Subordinate adverbial clause
of condition.
How do we express a condition?
Do you know what a condition is?
Yes, the conditional.
No, they're not the same at all.
French can be illogical, as we'll see.
Let's take a simple example:
You want to go bicycle riding. There's a condition.
For example, on condition the weather's nice. OK?
Nice weather is a condition of the outing.
So what would you say? "I'll go riding..."
Complete the sentence.
"on condition it's nice."
Good. Very good.
That's called a "conjunctional phrase".
It's a bit complicated.
We prefer to use a very simple conjunction,
a two-letter word. See what I mean? "We'll go riding...?
"if the weather's nice".
Very good. Very, very good.
Nice work!
"If the weather's nice".
That's what we call a subordinate adverbial clause,
and subordinate adverbial clauses usually begin with...?
- If! - Nice work!
CHAPTER I
If, on the eve of the local elections,
the President's majority hadn't become a minority...
Because...
the vast importance of the work you're doing
in a slightly underground but thoroughly visible way
through your newspaper
has to be deciphered, read between the lines,
interpreted according to the intent,
or perhaps the lack of intent of your work.
At the same time, events will be decisive.
We'll see what the President does, what the party does,
and there's the intangible...
There are no intangibles...
Your "intangible" is the secret service...
France is conservative.
Luckily. If not, where would we be?
Our socialist President is a far rightist, in my view...
That's your opinion, and...
And not yours?
You know it's not. Let's be serious.
We're serious. Our meeting is serious.
Who knows if it wasn't predetermined.
I read your letter...
Hello, Mrs. Blanchet.
Hello, Mayor.
- How are you this morning? - Fine.
CHAPTER II
If Julien, after his defeat,
had not suddenly fallen for novelist Berenice Beaurivage...
You're wasting your time here.
If you want to be our Member of Parliament
you know it's no use operating here.
That's why you're so busy in Paris, right?
- Yes. - Paris first.
True, more so than I'd prefer.
Unfortunately, I must also attain national status.
But to go national, I must
first acquire a local base. That's what I've done.
Then don't hang around here, do your scheming in Paris.
I hate to scheme. I'd rather woo my voters than the party bosses.
And if the party rejects you?
It won't if I'm strong, and my strength is here.
My standing is way up. I know how to make allies.
- The ecologists? - Yes.
Watch out!
They're good people, whatever you think!
Sure, everyone loves them.
If I lose the first time, I'll win next time.
I'd rather fight while doing what I enjoy,
breathing clean air, in a place I like, with people I respect
instead of doing things that bore me, with people
I don't even like!
If the bosses heard you!
I don't just mean the bosses and eggheads,
I mean politicians in general, friends or foes.
I'm not in politics to be like everyone else.
The day of the party hack is over.
People are sick of wheeler-dealers and fancy oratory.
What's funny?
Because...such ideas... You ever tried growing a beard?
What's that got to do with it?
Nothing...
It just came to mind.
A beard's a good test:
if you're a con artist, it makes you look like Bluebeard.
But it makes an idealist
look like Christ.
And me?
Well...
Look! They're wonderful!
Don't run. Want me to imitate a turkey call?
Amazing!
They're well trained. Let me try it.
Those white flowers!
Pretty, eh? They're clematis.
That's an Armandi clematis, the longest-lasting.
Apple trees!
They're pear trees, doll.
No pears?
Not yet. In late July.
No apples or pears on any of the trees?
Of course not. Use your head:
They're not even in full bloom yet.
But you can buy pears all year round.
They're greenhouse pears.
Lettuce!
I've never seen one growing.
I see them in cellophane at the shop.
I'm going to plant them along that wall.
What's that?
Madonna lilies. Pretty, huh?
So pretty!
I'd like to wear them in my hair in the evening.
Gorgeous!
You'd look cute that way.
Smell. It's sage.
And those?
Those are lupines, this is sage, over there is sorrel.
Sorrel?
- Pretty, eh? - You seldom eat it.
Strawberries.
They're fabulous!
Look at that! Incredible!
They're bull calves. We'll give them... know what this is? Corn.
It's like touching prehistoric beasts.
Really!
I brought some parsley.
- They'll eat it. - They love it.
Here.
Here, baby.
He has tiny horns. It's funny.
Their horns are burned off at birth.
This one was badly done.
Number 280
is the parsley-lover.
Sheep!
They're darling! The little one!
We didn't bring any bread.
Oh, the little one!
Mr. Pillaud!
Hello, Mr. Pillaud.
They're going in early.
Yes. They'll go up to the farmyard. They're used to it.
They do it for a while every evening.
And down in the morning?
They won't go in for...another hour.
They'd rather stay in the field.
No, they eat better by the roads...
There's more grass.
It's better along the roads than in the fields.
Yes, they eat better there.
The fields are all plowed up, anyway.
Look at the flowers!
Mauve.
They're toad lilies, or snake's heads.
Can we make a bouquet?
You mustn't touch! They're a protected species.
There's even a government order
that bans picking them.
It applies to three places in France,
with special soil.
As mayor, I could have you arrested.
What's so special about them?
They're very rare.
Like orchids?
You can buy orchids in supermarkets.
It's pretty.
You see, you like the country.
I love it. It's restful, beautiful.
But like everyone, I get bored after 3 or 4 days.
Because you do nothing!
I do nothing at the beach and I'm not bored. I don't even write.
Come here to write.
Impossible.
I need
noise, movement, excitement.
The lack of life here turns off my brain.
There's lots of life here, there's nothing else.
Sure, cows and birds,
frogs...
Admit it, you'd be bored too without politics.
Your daughter's bored. She'd rather be at the beach.
She's always going to the beach with her mother.
Come this way.
She's bored because her girlfriend left. She'll find another.
It won't be easy here.
Maybe some little farm girl.
They're not yokels anymore. You don't know what farming is now.
Do you?
I'm in my element here, cultivating...
Cultivating votes, you mean.
You're a Parisian to your fingertips.
In your voice, gestures, outlook, clothes,
you're a super-Parisian.
I'm a man of the soil.
My family's owned land for generations.
The land is meaningless now.
It confers no name, no power, no wealth.
Forgive me, but people who think they belong on the land,
who think their roots are there,
are usually arch-reactionaries.
They see everything from a local angle,
a view from the steeple.
Modern men should have broader horizons,
blend all cultures, live in capitals,
be citizens of the world.
And put pins in their buttonholes marked "Made in USA"?
These are standardised, asepticised men.
The worst role models
80% of city dwellers
have country grandparents with rural roots.
And do all they can to forget them.
With their first 2 cents, what do they do?
They go far away, to Greece or the Caribbean.
Take a tip from me, Julien,
sell your beloved land,
and buy a house on the northwest coast.
A house on the sea is the height of vulgarity.
You're such a snob!
Me, a snob?
The biggest snob I know.
The people here don't think so.
I shouldn't have said "snob".
I should have said you're a dandy.
Because snob comes from sine nobilitate,
meaning lacking in nobility.
I'm not noble.
Yes, you are. You took the handle off your name
to appear more ordinary.
Very clever. My great-grandfather
opted to write Dechaumes in two words.
I hated that, and changed it back. It was ridiculous.
Isn't fear of ridicule snobbish?
The problem is this:
France, which was mainly agricultural until the 20th century,
is becoming almost wholly industrial.
The countryside's empty.
Everyone can have a country home. So democratic!
The number of vacation homes is dropping.
More and more people are moving to the country for good.
In 50 years, most city folk will live in the country.
Then they won't be city folk.
But they'll have city jobs,
that can only be done in a city.
Few villagers are farmers anymore.
They're builders, carpenters, gardeners,
or they work for firms nearby.
We're surrounded by fields. They have to be farmed.
They'll soon disappear.
There are 36 farms here now.
In 5 or 6 years there'll only be 8 left.
How creepy!
It's possible that in 10 or 20 years
there'll be no craftsmen left,
only service and high-tech jobs.
With video, faxes, computers,
office work can be done at home. You'd never have to leave, see?
You could run a Paris firm with factories everywhere.
Or design an airplane engine or an atomic plant at home.
Yes, why not?
It's pretty. Looks good enough to eat, like marzipan.
Don't, it's poisonous: polyurethane resin.
This new job pattern is the only way to slow
the runaway growth of the cities and the rural exodus.
Population distribution will be
more harmonious,
eliminating the city-country split.
You don't agree?
It's Utopian, it won't work.
I foresee nature returning to the city:
parks, botanical gardens, and so on.
I don't see going "back to the country", even your way.
It won't work. The city is a stronger magnet.
Much less than before.
For you, maybe, but not for most people.
They're in the city because that's where the jobs are.
Not just for that.
The city is fascinating.
People like the infinite possibilities to meet people.
They like the city, even if they meet no one.
The charm of passersby,
the crowds,
humanity's variety: big, small, black, young, old,
their beauty, their ugliness, charm, absurdity.
It reassures them, fascinates them.
Don't you see?
Endless possibilities.
If rural kids want some fun, what do they do?
Play the pinball machine in the village cafe.
Or go to a Saturday night dance, same crowd, same music.
In Paris, life is more complicated, maybe harder,
less leisure, maybe,
but there's excitement, a million things to do,
many neighbourhoods, movies, art shows, restaurants, parties.
You know that in the capital, anything can happen.
But here...
You're a Parisian, and a novelist. You think you're Balzac.
No. Ask them.
I do ask them.
You asked the kids what they'd like?
Just so, I asked the kids.
They're not bored. They don't want to go to the city.
They want to stay here.
You look at it all from outside,
which makes everything here seem dull and lifeless.
Paris is terrifically lively,
but deep down in people's hearts,
what's the real, dominant feeling?
Excitement.
- No. - The city!
It's not excitement at all,
it's loneliness.
I'd rather be anonymous...
I'd rather be alone dreaming of countless new faces,
than be stuck here with the same people,
crones peeking through the curtains...
Believe it or not,
city people's circles are smaller than ours.
Nonsense. In Paris I can change my circle.
Now you're talking nonsense. Listen,
whatever you think,
meeting new people is easier here than in a big city.
You're not stuck here.
You go to dances and parties for 20 miles around.
That's nothing new.
Historians say the prospects in the country, in the old days,
for finding a spouse
were more ample than in a city now.
Because festivals, fairs,
pilgrimages brought widely separated people into contact.
Maybe you're right.
But once they meet, what do they do?
They have fun.
First they work, they love their work.
Everyone has an interesting job. They know how to have fun.
Let's all drink...
St. Juire wine.
Too bad it isn't...
- To the mayor! - Thanks.
Too bad it isn't to my victory,
but that's for next year's parliamentary election.
Let's hope!
Sure, the local vote is reactionary,
but the district as a whole is leftist, it's for progress.
That won't change.
You scored well locally.
A good showing.
To us all, and to you.
Here's to next year...
And the mayor!
The land we'll build on is in a restricted zone.
Building is banned except in the public interest,
and even that needs government authorisation,
which it got for its excellence and good environmental impact.
We have masons and carpenters
who work in the old way and who are anxious for work.
We'll mainly use them
rather than workmen from outside.
The building will stir a demand,
not just locally, but even regionally,
for building methods
that have not been forgotten and can be revived.
Private projects of this type exist in France,
but a public operation would set an example.
You see,
we'll build the new library here.
We'll call it a media library:
it will include video and disc libraries,
an art gallery,
with an open-air theater and swimming pool behind.
That's huge!
An ambitious project.
It's handsome. It will hide the whole village.
No it won't.
It's no high-rise. It will only be...
maybe two stories.
We'd have to check the plans.
It will be built of local stone,
so it will fit in with the local style,
but it'll be a modern building.
With a stone facing?
I don't know...
That's handsome because it's a real farm, with fine proportions,
and a real barn, but...
It could look artificial.
Slapped on, slightly fake...
You can't put up a steel building beside a 13th-century church!
I don't mean that, maybe you have to find a way,
but slapping stones on artificially like that...
I don't know if it's a good idea.
CHAPTER III
If the willow on the village green
hadn't miraculously withstood the rigours of time...
Hear ye, hear ye!
The jury for the contest for the cultural-sports centre,
comprising a disc library, pool and open-air theatre,
has chosen the proposal by Mr Antoine Pergola.
His plan will be on display in the town hall as of Monday
for public inspection.
By order of Mayor Julien Dechaumes.
Lovely!
It's so lovely!
They want to destroy this!
Have they gone mad?
Or am I the madman?
What'll I do with my photo?
Look at it after this is gone? I couldn't bear it.
It's like a snapshot of someone dying.
My God, what's got into them?
What's got into you? You're so violent!
I'm seldom violent, but this time I'm furious!
I'm capable of anything. It's my pet hate!
I could even kill!
Some guys shoot kids who bawl. With me, it's architects.
If I had a machine-gun when the workmen first show up...
Shut up!
Scared? But I don't have a machine-gun.
Don't say such things.
Someone said: "We must abolish the death penalty
"except for architects".
Blame the mayor, not the architect.
The mayor's just a politician. An architect should have taste.
Wait and see, the plan probably respects the environment.
"Respect", you said the word!
They can do anything if they're "respectful",
justify any vandalism!
I'd rather they build a concrete tower, a steel shed!
People should have rebelled.
But it's "respectful"
so you can't do or say anything, it's the lesser evil!
Why evil? Why not the greater good?
The evil is the mayor's idea.
OK, but what shocks me most,
is that architects, who went to art school,
who studied painting,
failed to see this site is untouchable!
They wouldn't touch a Ruysdael painting for fear
of chipping the paint,
but they'll bulldoze a landscape that is worthy,
and I mean this, of the greatest Dutch masterpieces!
It's so lovely! Do you realise?
How dare they mess with it?
It's not a work of art.
Yes, a landscape is a work of art.
Maybe not in the past: there was great scenery at every bend,
but it's rare now and we must preserve it all.
I mean all!
This landscape with its meadow, its brook,
the tree, the village and church in the background,
is the work of both nature and man.
Those who arranged this land,
those houses, this tree,
may not be listed in books, but they were artists.
In the old days, farmers were artists.
Better artists than our fancy architect!
In principle, this tree remains.
My foot! Trees keep vanishing.
We're told a tree will remain, then it's suddenly cut down!
There's always a pretext:
access, the conduits, power lines, or it's blocking the view,
as if a tree weren't the best view.
Even if the tree remains, as I hope,
it's old, it will have to be cut down.
Another will replace it.
In the old days, they scheduled trees in advance,
for future generations.
As in La Fontaine's fable:
"For an old man, better to plant trees than build...
No, I goofed: "Better to build than plant trees..."
No, I know what will happen.
Assume the building's acceptable.
"Respectful", as you say.
Assume it fits into the landscape.
What we're seeing is the tip of the iceberg.
They're silent about the construction it will entail,
which will be far more visible.
Access roads?
Precisely. The access roads.
To the freeways, the parking lots,
the elevators. France is scarred with access roads!
200 cars a night without parking space? No way!
It won't be 200, and it won't be every night.
The mayor wants to bring Paris theatre troupes here!
It'll be a flop, but they'll build for 200 cars.
They'll plan for it!
So space will have to be found. They will plan what is,
euphemistically,
called a car "park"
on a protected site.
Underground, at first.
They'll cut down the tree to provide access.
Then they'll see the ground is too soft,
so they'll build a parking lot,
an open-air parking lot,
maybe with a few scrawny shrubs planted in rows
and, most horrid of all,
stunted red trees,
you know, those...
sort of plum trees, not even red,
a spooky purple.
Like a corpse.
As if death fascinated these people.
It's death they're giving us. My death!
If I don't see my tree every morning, I'll leave.
I couldn't live here anymore, I'd leave. What?
I'm yelling. I know,
but if people are deaf, you have to shout!
But nobody's listening.
Where should I yell?
I don't know, not here. Besides, you need to act, not yell.
Act? You're dreaming.
How can a mere teacher fight a decision
involving powerful political interests?
The mayor's boss here, his party's still in power.
So run in the elections.
Which? For Parliament? I'll only get one vote:
my own.
And mine, maybe.
Thanks.
Politics... The mayor even wooed the ecologists.
In that case, stop yelling.
Zoe, no...
Let her alone, I love her.
I can see her in Parliament someday.
Why not? It won't be long.
Not the next election, or the one after, but the third..
I'll be 21.
I see you have it all planned.
You'll be in college then, in the city.
You won't want to bury yourself here to solve our little problems.
You did.
I'm a city boy, so I wanted to be in the country.
Anyway, in 10 years, the country will be the city,
with all its drawbacks and without its few advantages.
You're too pessimistic.
The country-city argument will become obsolete,
but not your way.
How, then?
I'll explain my theory.
Let's hear it.
Not yet. I haven't worked it all out.
A pretty model... That's where we were
the other day, behind the school. There's the tree...
You sculpted it beautifully.
With the church and steeple.
- And all the houses. - Terrific.
- The scale is right? - Yes, it's accurate.
Then that's the swimming pool?
Yes, at top of the plot,
with the buildings climbing the hill, which faces west.
So the pool
is at the top, with the big and small basins.
- It's open-air? - That's right.
There's a solarium
on the east end.
A short season, then, 2 or 3 months a year.
Short? No, you can swim... 5 months a year.
Anyway, they asked for an open-air pool.
Sure, it has its own micro-climate.
That's the parking lot?
There's several: one higher, one lower.
You have the pool on top, and just below it,
the theatre, as you can see here.
There's the view from...
the theatre,
the entrance to the media library,
and the big tree below.
The seats are concrete?
That's right.
Is all this concrete, too?
No, the stage is concrete.
This area can be planted in grass or stay in concrete.
We don't know. We're still in a big-picture phase.
We'll fill in the details later.
I see you have small trees drawn in.
In 15 years they'll grow...
I'm not sure I like them there.
I don't know how you feel,
putting trees there.
We're in a village surrounded by greenery,
centuries-old trees.
Then we suddenly shift to a modern mode,
where small trees aren't very useful.
You see the stone, Berenice...
I'll show you a photo.
The trees are small, they're just saplings, but...
They'll mask the parking lot.
Look at the stone.
In 10 years they'll mask the parking lot.
It'll take a few years.
It's local stone. The whole front will be made of it. Beautiful, eh?
Beautiful.
The whole facade on the school side.
The theatre can only function in nice weather, right?
Yes, it's an open-air theater...
In winter it'll be snowed under.
It's not likely.
It doesn't snow much.
It can be covered.
I've seen freezing winters here.
If you've made it to scale,
the ceilings are pretty low.
- The building? - Yes.
The building's 20 feet high, as programmed.
Must the parking lot be there?
We need it.
This hideous expanse, with all those ugly cars on it?
Not all cars are ugly...
They're very ugly.
Especially massed on concrete like that.
When it's empty it's crummy, and full it's even crummier.
You have to park.
To go to a show, or swim, you must park your car...
Can't those ugly things be underground?
There are limits.
The budget may not permit underground parking.
If there's one important thing in the budget,
it's to hide those awful cars.
It'll be ugly, dead space...
In Paris cars park before every house.
They're scattered. But big parking lots...
No one likes them. Will tourists visit them? No.
Two small parking lots, one on top, for 70 cars,
with another 20 below. That may not be enough.
You must find away. It's horrible.
It ruins the beauty of your complex,
which is, if I may say so,
a bit too functional.
There's no fantasy element...
It's utilitarian.
Fantasy? What for?
You want ornaments, statues? Or what?
I don't say statues. But when you visit a medieval abbey,
the lofty ceilings, the space were not designed for function.
Here it's all functional.
The abbeys certainly were designed for function,
in terms of sound for the chanting, and the space needed
for church services.
- Spirituality's fine, but... - This isn't a church.
It's for culture, which should inspire you, it's a symbol...
Spirituality is in the design here, a closed space,
the theatre facing the library,
on the pattern of antique theatres,
like a Roman theatre, with the entry facing the amphitheatre.
The open-air theatre...
Actors can use the catwalks around the building,
we wanted the inside to be stripped down.
Not much local stone...
Just in the doorway, a few side angles,
some vistas over the village.
There's a beautiful vista...
You had no desire
to create a place without a purpose?
Every place has a purpose... And it's the taxpayers' money...
That's what modernity is,
too functional...
In private homes, useless can be beautiful...
The strict minimum, no wasted space, no long walls...
There's a lot of wasted space. This here is useless...
So are your parking lots!
I like the way it fits in our landscape.
I'm crazy about this complex.
CHAPTER IV
If Blandine Lenoir, at the monthly "Tomorrow",
had not, while recording a cultural broadcast, inadvertently
unplugged her answering machine...
...this can be explained by several trends
that are more or less evident,
then something shifts again,
that we'll call "chance".
This gives rise to a new kind of evolution,
a new quality of evolution
that in history we call chance:
a casual conjunction of a series of necessities,
of various kinds, economic, social and political,
and this unexpected conjunction of compulsions,
when they meet,
produce an event.
We'll call this event...
we'll identify it
with this concept of chance.
It is obvious that, stated this way,
it doesn't really explain what happened,
it just explains the result of certain conditions
that don't confirm what is and lead to a posterior explanation.
We can never probe deeply into historical chance,
it's a virtually useless notion,
raised and instantly dismissed,
as we tend to explain things
after the fact. That's always the problem.
Can we speak of the imponderable? Does that still have meaning?
Absolutely.
I think the imponderable exists...
Why ignore it?
What's really amazing when you read history
is the evacuation of the imponderable.
The imponderable makes us experience history,
experience it intensely,
but it's absent from historical discourse,
probably because we don't want to imagine or admit it.
We live with the imponderable,
but we don't think about it
or know how to think about it.
That's why this dimension is never found
in a historical paper.
The imponderable is gone from history books
because introducing or keeping it
might become a philosophy of history,
a particular philosophy,
which to a historian means taking liberties
he might relate to science-fiction...
The contrast is striking...
TAX MANAGEMENT SERVICE
...between knowing that the imponderable exists,
in a way, everything is imponderable...
PARLIAMENT
Hi, how are you?
We tried to reach you.
I forgot to plug in the answering machine.
I only found out when I called it just now. What's up?
Sorry, Blandine, there's a mix-up, I had a previous appointment.
You're the second person to stand me up today!
Tomorrow, same time, OK? We must get together. Can you?
- I'm very busy. - I know.
Is that OK?
- Tomorrow, 5 PM. - Alright.
Dammit, I'm doing these people a favour seeing them
and on top of it they're late.
My sister-in-law's cousin wants me to meet his girlfriend,
Berenice Beaurivage, the novelist. Do you know her?
She wants to write a book with a newspaper setting.
I'm the guinea pig, but I'll throw her for a loop.
I hate talking about my work. What's there to say?
You don't believe that?
Neither do I.
Generalities are silly.
OK, I'm off.
No, please,
stay five minutes more.
If they don't show by then, they can wait.
I don't mind coming back tomorrow.
You have something to do? Stay.
I can't stand three-cornered appointments.
I mean it! So...
Don't talk. Just sit in, that's enough.
Charming!
You might like it, a unique opportunity...
The cousin-in-law is one of the group
of young, stay-at-home reformers,
We wanted more leftist Young Turks.
He has vast political ambitions that I don't think he's up to.
Observe him.
He's the mayor and lord of the manor of his village.
He lost a local election, but he's running for Parliament.
Observe him.
What's this rarity's name?
His name's unknown and always will be: Julien Dechaumes.
They're here.
- Julien! - Hello, Regis.
Berenice Beaurivage.
How do you do?
Blandine. She'll sit in, alright? She's our best free-lancer.
Of course.
Expert on political sociology. Come into my office.
Never mind the local election.
You'll win next time. You can always build on a failure.
That's true. If they want me.
Who's "they"? The party?
I haven't been nominated yet. But I'm confident.
In my area, the majority belongs
to a nationwide minority wing of the party.
The hard-liners?
Sure. I'm young, so I'm with the young.
But the national bosses snub the names our people propose.
They want to force their own on us. It's a real brawl.
- So? - So, I'm waiting.
I'm waiting for them to see they're wrong. If outsiders run,
a conservative will carry this Socialist stronghold.
- Are you that popular? - Of course! I'm a local boy!
That's very important in my district...
They're royalists.
But you're a royalist.
He runs as a Socialist, but he's an arch-royalist.
Cut it out!
Admit you're a royalist.
He wants to be a great lord,
with first-night rights over the farmers' daughters.
Anyone would, if they're pretty.
Stop the nonsense!
But they're plain, so he behaves!
He loves folks to bow and scrape to him and listen
when he patronises them.
It's fiction. I'm absolutely simple with people.
Spoken like a great lord!
Stop it.
I'll shut up, he's taking it badly.
A royalist? What's insulting about that?
It's not incompatible with socialism.
In the countries with kings, Norway, Denmark, Sweden,
Spain, Belgium, Holland,
the governments are usually Socialist.
It works very well.
I forgot Britain,
where Labour will come back someday.
Why not in your area, too?
Maybe in the north, but not the south.
Sorry, but you clearly don't know its history or geography.
It's a common error.
The south, my area, has always been republican.
It marked the royalist-revolutionary border.
My great-grandfather, a commoner and trader,
bought the manor during the Revolution,
which the state took over. So I ask you,
where's my "royalist tradition"?
If you're nominated, have you got a chance to win?
It'll be rough. I've by no means convinced the party.
I'm in no hurry, I know times are tough now.
That's why the party needs new faces.
To spite the right. The farmers there are angry.
That will help the rightists.
The ecologists, too, luckily.
Luckily?
Better a liberal vote, even if it's not for us.
But the ecologists, the Greens,
are awful reactionaries! They've never been liberals!
You think so?
I agree. He's letting them gnaw at his vote.
In a way, they're allies of the far right,
but certainly not his.
That's absurd! Sorry, but what you're saying
is total nonsense.
In the last election, I talked to the Greens' leaders for 4 hours.
They said, "We're all for what you've done as mayor,
"in both ecology and welfare policy".
They even go farther than I do.
For example, they think a cut
in the work week should mean an overall pay cut.
That's Utopian, I wouldn't go that far.
Hard to push through.
Leftist Utopia, like the '68 student revolt.
The most dangerous kind: Maoist, totalitarian.
All totalitarian regimes meet at the extremes.
I say the Greens have no political talent.
They should stick to reforestation and clean rivers.
I need ecology.
I have a house down south that's threatened
by a gas plant on one side
and a new freeway on the other.
The Highway Service owns France.
While world auto sales are dropping,
we go all out building freeways!
It's mad! France is run by Highway Service engineers.
They are defacing the country!
Even worse,
sorry, Julien,
are the mayors.
Decentralised government is OK on paper,
but the vast power it gives the mayors
allows them to vandalise France.
So my house will be surrounded
by a gas-pumping plant
and a useless freeway feeder.
Around my lovely village, as around all our villages,
prefab houses are going up on land
owned by friends of the mayor or his council,
who get rich on it. That's decentralisation!
I know that's not your case.
No, it isn't. I had my village protected.
Our new project is the work of one of today's great architects,
an environmentalist.
- What are you building? - A sports and cultural centre.
- You have the money? - Yes. It wasn't easy, but I got it.
Nice work, you can operate.
Grandeur is out of fashion in the sticks these days.
This isn't really grand. It's minimal.
A Minimum Cultural Guarantee? The ecologists approve?
Of course.
Sure, it's so timid...
It's not timid, it's respectful.
Respectful timidity
or timid respect.
I'd build a big glass bubble.
It would respect the environment more.
Are you serious?
Where were we?
To get back to generalities:
political ecology is dangerous
because it's conservative, basically reactionary.
The Greens' ideal is a static world,
even a return to the world of 100 years ago.
The formation of the universe began a process of evolution
no one has a right to stop.
It's a basic fact,
in the evolution of living things, a truism
everyone should agree on. But oh, no!
What if evolution is going the wrong way?
What are the "right" and "wrong" ways?
Suppose the planet blows up, or goes radioactive,
you can't say it's going the right way.
We're not there yet.
We could get to it.
Listen. If we have to die, let's die!
If life never changes,
it's not worth living.
I refuse to live just to assure my survival.
Survival, what a horrid word!
If survival is the only idea we're offered,
then let's die now, hurrah for suicide!
Suicide has beauty,
but survival has a mean, degrading side to it.
It's dreadful.
But I don't believe the prophets of doom.
Mankind is not a totally failed species.
The world will live on,
it will change and develop in the right way.
Absolutely.
All living creatures have always adapted to their environment.
Man will adapt to carbon dioxide, maybe even radiation.
Just as fish took to water.
Aren't you confusing two things?
One is the natural evolution of the universe,
the other is pollution caused by man,
who adds a new dimension:
his will, basically if unwillingly perverse.
Perhaps, meaning that technology overcomes natural law.
I say the remedy to technology
is more technology.
I know that argument,
but I'm not quite convinced. Isn't it a bit simplistic?
Nothing is simple, of course.
The ecologists simplify things with amazing dishonesty.
We know that natural cataclysms
are far more pollutive than manmade catastrophes.
Nature can trigger its own defenses.
- Not always. - What do you mean?
In prehistoric times
there were volcanoes, earthquakes, floods,
and meteor collisions
that were far more pollutive
than, for example: Chernobyl.
The problem is again
that man blocks nature's defenses.
What does he do? Cut down forests.
There's more forest now than two centuries ago.
Not in the Amazon.
Sure, sure, the Amazon. I'm all for the Amazon,
the Indians, primitive life, snakes,
spiders, crocodiles, piranhas. I'm for all of it.
But to say that the Amazon is the world's green lung
is wrong.
Chlorophyll eliminates at night the carbon dioxide
it absorbs during the day.
Not entirely. Part of the carbon absorbed is retained.
It helps form the plant matter later found in the earth
as coal or carbohydrate.
I'm pretty good, eh?
Very little of it does.
Very little?
If we burned all the coal and oil the earth ever held,
it would return to its primitive state, surrounded
by an atmospheric belt of carbon dioxide,
C + O2 = CO2, as we learned in class.
There's another fixative of carbon:
calcium.
What is limestone composed of?
An age-old accumulation of marine animals' shells.
To return to the earth's primitive atmosphere,
you must extract the CO2
from the calcium carbonate
in the earth's crust.
You scientists have lost me.
We're wasting your time with our bar chat.
Sorry, but I haven't much time to give you.
Want a quick tour of the premises?
I'm in no hurry. I can take them around.
That would be nice.
You don't mind?
It won't take long. It's nice of you.
What about the castle?
These are houses.
They're not houses,
you can see they're the castle windows.
You begin.
I'm sorry, can we put off our meeting again?
Again?
Alright, Monday... OK.
Not at all.
No, it went fine. We had a drink afterward.
If you want a specimen of the new political class, he's it.
I'd like to do my story on Julien.
Julien's a nice guy, but a lightweight.
I don't agree. He interests me.
Nothing. That's just it!
There are plenty of brilliant men, good talkers,
who know all the answers.
He's no great talker, he fumbles for words.
Not much of a phrase-maker.
What he says may seem watered-down,
but at least it's thoughtful.
Most politicians ring false, their words are hollow.
There's mystery in him. A hidden gravity.
That's good!
He's persuasive, and for a politician, that's an asset.
He told me a lot about his village
that really made me want to see it.
I bet the place is exemplary in a lot of ways.
Come off it.
They're not in love. It's just for show.
She's not his type.
I hope you won't find my first question hostile.
Wouldn't the money for building the media library
be better used for something else?
A cultural programme doesn't seem vital for a village
of a few hundred people.
Aren't there more urgent issues?
You're stating it backwards.
I got the money for a cultural programme,
nothing else.
I'm on good terms with the Culture Ministry
and I got a subsidy that is, let us say,
unusual
You can quote me. It wasn't a favour to me,
but deliberate policy.
Up north, the conservatives wave the banner of culture
that is traditional, local, even monarchist.
The government wanted a reply from the republican south.
Another kind of culture,
less traditional and local, more up-to-date.
Tradition must be alive, must move, evolve, create.
Otherwise it's folklore for tourists.
Let's get back to finances.
You got a hefty sum from the government.
Doesn't the village have to kick in? What do the taxpayers say?
They pay nothing.
We made a profitable deal
when a firm bought into a new industrial area
on land bequeathed to the town.
Didn't you buy land for your project?
It was dirt cheap.
It's all connected:
Industry only moves in
if there's cultural activity along with business and sports.
Now people won't have to go to the city to see a show, or swim.
City people will come to the village for specific shows.
Our programme is aimed at holding folks here
and attracting new residents.
We must save the countryside from emptying out.
You sound like the ecologists.
I share many of their ideas.
Why not join the Greens,
or your friends in other conservationist parties?
Their reasons for joining may not be mine.
If I went in with them, I'd be doubly disloyal:
to my party, to which I owe my career,
and to the Greens, who gave me generous support
in the local voting.
If I ran as a conservationist
I'd be sabotaging them and myself.
Then the Right wins another seat.
Ecology is a concern all parties should share.
It can't be a political trademark.
It's negative, all prohibitions and nothing constructive.
Ecologists can't have any platform,
political, economic or cultural.
Their leaders are offering more concrete answers to big issues:
unemployment, crime, immigration...
They're vague, or Utopian.
You need some realism in politics.
Now you talk about realism.
That's how conservatives talk.
Rightists now are less realistic than the liberals.
Because the Left has been edging to the Right.
I'll be the devil's advocate.
There's a paradox in what you say.
You seem to be a hard-core liberal,
yet you defend realism.
You preach traditional, back-to-the-land values.
Even your humanism allies you
with the conservative dissidents.
Since the Right-Left distinction is now blurred,
and has been more middle-of-the-road,
why are you so intent on being known as Leftist?
A diabolical question,
but not troublesome.
The Right-Left distinction may need readjusting,
but it's still valid.
I was raised on liberal ideals,
that's where I'm a traditionalist,
so to speak.
If ever I'm a dissident in my party,
it will be on the hard-core side,
not toward the middle. Moderation was
a betrayal and a tactical mistake. Look where it's got us!
Left-Right conflict is not outmoded, as some say,
merely blurred
because some liberal traits, the original virtues of the Left
are now claimed by the Right.
In this century, sectarianism and dogmatism,
not just the communists,
have shifted some Leftist virtues to the Right,
like civic spirit, equity, tolerance
now claimed by the pseudo-liberals.
They long ago appropriated democracy and the republic.
But democracy, the republic, liberty, equality and fraternity,
the Nation, were not invented by the Right,
they're the Revolution's heritage.
The Right shouldn't use these words as if they owned them.
- What is it? - Can I play the piano?
Alright.
Your problem is: the Right won't call itself the Right.
It mustn't call itself the Left
even if it wants to.
If democracy is no longer social - I mean, socialist-
it's no longer democracy! My mind's made up on that!
How long have you lived here?
20 years, come August.
The village has changed, eh?
Yes. For the better...
For the better?
All along the line, the atmosphere,
the changes...
nature, everything...
Is your clientele changing?
Not much,
we have the same old customers.
A few die off, alas,
so there's always some change.
Are people who come now different-
for example, a lot must own summer homes -
from those who live here? Is there a difference for you?
- Not for us. - Not at all?
Are you satisfied with the library, all the cultural changes?
Why not?
Do you want something bigger?
Theatre, for example, or movies?
I'd like the region to progress.
Are there things you need?
Need? No, but I'd like activities that get people together.
Get together?
Together. Do some activities.
By people getting together, I mean
we can have little parties,
create associations...
A clubhouse where you can meet, and so on.
Do you plan to spend your life here?
Absolutely.
We may have to develop it more than we're doing.
Who knows what the future holds?
We don't have to stay rooted and static
in this charming village.
You're a conscientious objector,
doing your service in the town hall. Then what?
I plan to teach English.
That means many things.
I'd be transferred around, so it may not be suited
to living in a village.
Any chance of teaching English here?
That's what I do:
teach English to adults and to kids in the village school.
They're luckier than the kids in Paris.
This is a pilot school.
Talking to you before,
I noticed you were also aware of the farmers' problem,
which is real.
It's a real problem, alright.
Our farmers will surely have a terrible time
in the next 5 or 6 years.
Yes, but why?
Around here there's a big problem of drained land.
Farmers are forced to over-irrigate
in a completely crazy way,
it's absolutely nuts.
So the farmers invest heavily,
then prices drop because they overproduce.
They grow both corn and wheat, which is absurd.
The land's not suited for that.
Do you see a solution?
It's for them to try to find
markets for special crops,
and everyone do his own thing.
Is that feasible?
Yes, but here again, they need help,
to avoid doing wild things like planting courgettes.
We've had examples here recently.
You've always lived here?
In the village. I was born here.
Anything you've missed out on, or wanted to see?
I don't know what to say.
For example, there's a lot of talk
about culture, a library, a record library...
That never meant much to us.
In the old days we had no time, we worked.
In the evening we just wanted to rest.
The days were too long...
Yep, we didn't have enough hours in the day.
Is redistribution of land a good thing?
In some ways,
to enlarge tracts of land, yes,
other places they should have left in pasture,
where it was needed.
Do you favour, for example, growing corn to feed
cattle instead of grazing them?
It's costly,
but they're better off eating fresh, natural things.
For better meat.
Yes, and the milk and butter, too.
When they eat fresh, green fodder
it's so much better. They process it for us.
Then why do we do the senseless things we do?
It's progress, of course, evolution.
It'll end someday, maybe, I don't know.
Progress hasn't brought any benefits?
Not to me, really.
I'm old-fashioned, you see? I'm not modern.
You have pasture, too?
- A lot of it? - 30 acres.
You have livestock?
Really?
There aren't many left, eh?
Fewer and fewer, but I've still got some.
Really?
Will you show them to me?
I'd love to see and talk about them. ls it far?
- No, it's not far. - Meaning?
- Around half a mile. - Half a mile?
They wonder what's happening.
- Not used to visiting journalists? - Guess not.
Thanks for showing them to me.
I'll tell them they're in the news...
You're the only one who still has cattle?
And you graze them?
Can you continue to...
So far, yes, but in the future, I dunno.
How do you see the future? What are your problems?
There are all kinds of them.
Things have changed in 10 years, it's awful.
First of all, folks aren't so friendly anymore.
And farming is disappearing, especially small spreads.
I have 90 acres and you can't live on 90 acres.
My wife found a job a month ago.
We once grew tobacco. Without it, we couldn't go on farming.
Is large-scale, low-yield farming the problem?
Costs are too high. It's not like before.
People lived better 20 years ago.
Some farms had only 2 or 3 cows.
Now on the few farms left, the cows never get out.
Which means that after 5-6 years they're no good anymore.
Some of mine are 10 and 12 years old.
Still in great shape.
They eat grass, they eat good things.
You like your cows to be happy, eh?
What's the future of a village
where all the trades have disappeared?
What's happening in St. Juire, how do people live?
The atmosphere has changed.
How was it before?
You saw more people, to start with.
Now, with tractors, everyone uses the road.
In the old days, folks would stop at our fountain.
Tons of them, sometimes 10, 15 a day.
They had oxen, then, or horses, it depended...
Often they'd go to the house, chat a bit.
Now they're on tractors, so...
- There's no time to chat? - No time left.
That's terrible.
There was a baker. There's none now.
How do you get bread? Vans come through selling it?
They come in a van, from Sainte-Hermine.
Or Saint-Martin...
That's all past now.
What do you think?
How do you keep a village alive?
What has to be done? Any ideas?
Nope.
They're not putting up a building
for the 15 readers who now use the library.
The old one was big enough.
If it got too small, they could move it to one
of the village farms that are on sale cheap.
They're not interested
in meeting the "cultural" needs of the locals,
but in drawing new people.
Who? From where?
That's all vague.
But maybe not so vague, after all. I have my suspicions.
Namely?
It's His Honor the Mayor's policy,
who is backed by the Culture Minister,
who is backed by the President of France:
we must at all costs liven up the rural districts.
Liven them up!
To city people, the countryside is "inanimate".
We must be revived.
This is socialism's truly perverse effect.
Even in socialism it's an obsolete idea.
It's the perverse state robbing people of responsibility,
so they look to it for everything.
They become welfare clients dependent on decisions
that eliminate them as individuals.
You think I'm off the subject?
- You'll cut this. - Maybe not.
I'm sure you will.
Now I'll tell you something that's relevant, but general.
You'll cut that, too. A pity: the idea deserves an airing.
Alright...
Whether this building ever goes up or not,
and I still hope it won't,
isn't just a smokescreen before the voters, which is serious.
It's part of a policy to urbanise the village insidiously.
The mayor expects that in up to 50 years
all the farmers will disappear.
This will be an urban area, a distant suburb of a small city
that will be a suburb of a bigger city,
itself a suburb of a no-longer-so-remote Paris.
The mayor isn't scaring farmers away.
It's an undeniable fact.
I'm not so sure.
What will happen in 40 years?
Were the world events of the past 3 years anticipated?
In politics, no, I agree.
Forecasts are easier in economics.
Not really.
We've made mistakes and always will.
I assure you.
Did we foresee the ravages of single-crop farming?
Of uprooting hedgerows?
Of chemical fertilisers?
Will the Third World go on sending us cheap raw materials?
Why do we buy pears in New Zealand when they're better here?
To spur the transport industry,
send up planes to pollute the air,
promote trains that burn atomic energy,
build roads that now cover 58% of the planet.
90% of the modern world's ills result
from our mad insistence on moving men and merchandise.
If we don't farm the countryside, it won't be countryside anymore.
Why do folks go to the country?
If it becomes the city, they won't come anymore.
I surely won't.
If that building goes up, I'll get a transfer.
Despite what he says, the mayor's a city man.
If he were really a country man,
he'd live here the year round and farm his own land.
His manor is just a country home.
Most village mayors own country homes.
Is that proper?
It's like the days of Louis XVI,
when a noble had a country manor, and a town house in Versailles!
I've been really begged to run for the local council.
I've always said no.
Why? Because I like my tranquillity?
Not just for that.
No, honestly, it's because I wasn't born here.
The natives have more rights than I
to manage their town.
But having lived and worked here for 10 years,
shared the lives of people here,
I have more of a right to run than Dechaumes.
So run.
Why not?
It'd be good to have a teacher on the council.
I wouldn't win. I hate politics. I won't run.
Someone in my family may, but not me.
Who? Your wife?
My daughter. She's 10 years old.
I'm joking, but she's a born politician.
CHAPTER V
If, just as the issue was going to press,
Blandine hadn't gone with a UNICEF mission to Somalia...
- Everything's OK? - Fine.
Take this...
I'm worn out.
- So how'd it go? - Fine.
- Was he good? - Very. He's asleep.
- No! You have a party, or what? - Mummy!
How are you, little rascal?
You OK? Did you have fun?
I bet Manuela let you run wild.
No, she didn't.
She didn't, eh?
What's this? Did you make it?
Sorry, did I wake you?
I just got home, had a great trip,
I'm calling to...
Seen the issue?
And you're furious.
It figures... I'll explain.
I don't see why you cut it so much.
I had to, it was too long. You weren't here...
I had to make decisions.
You cut the heart out and left the hull.
Our subject was the new politicians.
At first, but that wasn't the right angle to take with Julien.
It was recited by rote.
The teacher was more amusing.
Sure, he was clowning.
He's touching, even pathetic.
I'm in love with his tree, too.
You're plunging into ecological trendiness.
Why give the ecologists a monopoly on ecology?
This month we covered smoking,
pollution in Uzbekistan, the tree,
it all made a good, ecology-slanted issue.
A tree on the cover of a political monthly is gutsy.
He's my cousin, not yours.
Don't worry, I'll square it with him.
Our trade's honour doesn't rest on your frail shoulders.
Blame it on me, I can talk to him.
I'm doing him a favour.
What he said wouldn't please the powers in Paris.
Julien!
The article! Is it good?
Shocking!
Seen the cover?
The tree. We made the cover, so why not?
But the headline!
"The Teacher Prefers the Tree to the Library".
That's his problem, not mine.
It is yours: you're not in the article at all.
Are you kidding?
You read it through?
Both pages.
Only two pages? There must be more somewhere.
I assure you, I looked. It's two pages.
Let me read that.
"Mayor Julien Dechaumes seems like a gentleman farmer
in New England in the Revolutionary War,
right out of a novel
by James Fenimore Cooper.
He's giving his village a sports-cultural centre
fit for a county seat.
Partly government-financed, the project
will cost the village almost nothing.
By helping to create jobs, it will slow the population drain.
Paris architect Antoine Pergola is designing it.
But school principal Marc Rossignol doesn't like it..."
Incredible, it's all about him!
We talked for two hours!
I knew she'd cut, but not everything. What's left?
James Fenimore Cooper.
I didn't trust that woman.
Read the rest of it.
I don't want to. I know his damned tree!
Sure it's pretty. I like trees too.
His tree's rotten!
It won't live 3 more years. Main branches keep falling off.
I'm furious!
She's a typical modern journalist:
sly, manipulating...
that, yes!
You should put her in your novel.
You bet I will.
And he's a typical scandal-sheet editor,
unscrupulous,
up to any dirty trick for a scoop,
a sensational photo or headline.
It's true!
All in the benign guise of a veteran newsman.
I see several explanations.
First, and I tend to doubt this,
is that the teacher is secretly loyal to a clique,
an agent for the some or all of the Socialists,
and he's hiding behind the ecologists.
That's fantasy, it's most unlikely.
For my novel it must be more probable.
A second possibility, which you're welcome to use:
he's jockeying for position.
With the Socialists down, he's using the ecologists
to satisfy some personal ambition.
That's more like it.
I suspect he's flattering the ecologists for the moment
for personal reasons.
He owns property that's threatened by a freeway.
So he told us. He was funny about it.
He's being an opportunist.
The third possibility is the pettiest:
he once said I had no gift for politics,
and now he won't back off.
I was too trusting, it's a lesson to me.
At least the teacher's pleased.
Well, I can use what he says,
because he's so reactionary
that by contrast I really stand out as a liberal.
And since you still need to seem liberal...
It's perfect.
CHAPTER VI
If Vega, the mayor's daughter, hadn't sent her balloon
into the path of Zoe, the teacher's daughter...
You live here?
You Mr. Dechaume's daughter?
Yes. And you?
My dad's Mr Rossignol, the school principal.
Mine's the mayor.
Your dad's a mare?
No! Mayor. With Y-O.
I know, I'm not stupid. What's your name?
Vega. And yours?
Zoe. You alone here?
Yes, I mean, I'm with my dad.
And your mum?
She lives in Strasbourg.
Are they... divorced?
Yes, but... I'm only here for the holidays.
Monday I'm going back to Mother's.
You got any friends?
Not here.
I can introduce you. I have plenty.
Playing with your ball alone?
Yes, I'm alone.
I can play with you. I'm in no hurry.
I can even show you the vegetable garden.
There are cherries over there,
but they're better here.
Let's go.
Like that, see?
I don't know what it's for, but...
It's a big here. What's behind there?
Strawberries,
wild strawberries, flowers, and lettuce.
How far does it go?
It starts there, then you go all the way around...
It's very big.
Do you like this colour?
It's pretty. Do you?
I dunno, I think...
I hate it! Horrible!
This is the biggest cedar in France.
It's not. I saw the biggest on TV.
They'll say anything on TV.
What's that tower?
A dovecote. Want to see?
I'd love to.
The next day...
I win!
Daddy!
You OK?
Found a friend?
Yep, her name's Zoe.
Zoe Rossignol.
- Your dad's Mr Rossignol, the principal? - That's right.
How did you meet?
She was riding by on a bike.
Well, have fun. See you later.
Sir, can I say something?
- Of course, what? - About your project.
The media library?
I read that your dad's against it.
That's his opinion, and that's fine.
I'm all for discussion. You tell him that.
Did he send you to...?
No, he didn't.
He ought to contact me directly.
I repeat, I'm entirely at his disposal.
He doesn't want to.
He doesn't want to talk? Don't say he's scared of me.
He says it's pointless.
Talking? I'm for discussion.
A teacher should be, too, don't you think?
He has his opinion, he won't change, he's said his piece.
But I'm for saying it face to face. Right?
In the magazine story he was cut a lot.
I was cut a lot, too!
But I won't change my mind, I said what I had to say.
He won't discuss it.
If he won't, that's that!
But I'd like to talk!
- For him? - For him and myself.
You want to speak for yourself?
Let's sit down. What have you to say, Miss?
I don't entirely agree with Dad.
He's too pessimistic.
That means you're for the project?
Less than he is.
Less? How? He's dead against it.
He talks, but won't act. I want to fight.
- Fight me? - Fight everyone and no one.
How?
By discussion. You say you're willing. You in a hurry?
I've a few minutes. It won't take hours.
- We'll be brief. - OK, shoot.
Your centre isn't really needed.
Stop right there.
It'd be great to have a pool near your home.
You won't have to go miles for a swim.
It's a short bicycle ride, I don't need it closer.
The library doesn't speak to you?
It's too big, and it's so ugly.
The video library, with 10 TV screens? Films you can't see on TV?
It's stupid to ruin...
the field for a thing you could put elsewhere.
There are village houses for sale cheap.
I'll tell you something I'm sure you don't know.
It's easier to raise money for a new building
than to restore an old one.
I got funding for a full programme.
I wouldn't have for a random operation.
For reasons we can't go into now,
the Culture Ministry backed me
as part of its consolidation policy.
I'm opposed. The Ministry is wrong.
It's dumb to group everything all the time. Useless, too.
And why a theatre? We have a community hall.
- It's just a shed. - It can be fixed up.
Costly, if it's done right.
You want Paris theatre troupes
to come to a comfortable place with good acoustics.
Outdoors is better?
There's no echo. It's like a Roman theatre.
Like in Arles and Orange.
What if it rains?
It can't rain all the time.
It rains a lot here.
You're so pessimistic!
No, but it's stupid to ruin a field
when you don't have to.
The field was given to us. We have to use it.
The cows will be gone next year. What would you put there?
I have a theory. But you wouldn't understand.
Really? Why?
There's something the village needs more than the library.
- What's that? - Parks.
Parks? There's greenery everywhere.
This is the country, we're surrounded by it.
Cities have parks, but not the country.
Your house has grounds, but others only have their little gardens.
When I read history, I see that kids played in the fields.
They could pick flowers, hunt butterflies and ladybugs.
Now it's all shut off with barbed wire.
If you do find a way in,
dogs chase you.
So why would people with kids go to the country?
Without fields or meadows or woods,
there's nothing left.
What you say isn't so silly, Miss, not at all.
There are woods near here.
It's three miles away!
A nice little bike ride.
No, I don't want to tease you,
but what's done is done.
We'll build the library, it's underway.
Overall, however, your objection
is well taken.
Thanks for thinking of something we tend to ignore.
If the fields and meadows disappear in the future,
we'll have to create playing fields.
Optimism is vital. The future's moving your way.
Meadows will soon be selling for a song.
Then we can make a leisure area for young and old.
Anyway, I'm grateful for your suggestion.
It doesn't confirm my stand, but it coincides with the project.
It completes it.
It's the next step.
Anyway, I'm glad you weren't scared to discuss it with me.
- How old are you? - Ten.
I hadn't such ideas at ten. Nor could I share them with a grownup.
- What'll you do later on? - I dunno.
You have time.
If you see your dad, tell him I'm at his disposal
to discuss the library, the pool, the tree.
I'll be off now.
CHAPTER VII
If a bureaucrat, out of routine or by order,
hadn't been overzealous...
Hey! Mayor!
- Remember me? - Yes, how are you?
Fine, thanks.
I'm sorry about that article.
I know, it's Regis's fault.
How do you know? What did he say?
I haven't seen him. I guessed.
I haven't seen him either, I quit. Now I'm at UNESCO.
Fine.
What's become of your project?
It's in a hole.
The article?
It didn't help. But the engine was racing and it jammed.
- You lost the subsidy? - No, but they might as well have.
A bureaucrat in the planning office
said the ground wasn't safe.
Didn't you test it?
Sure, it's dry and hard as rock.
There's a subsoil water trap that the farmers pumped dry.
It'd take 1,000 years to fill up.
But there's a hole, we must bolster the foundations.
Will it cost a lot?
Under 5% of the estimate.
But I don't have it. I have to raise it.
The Ministry?
Out of the question.
They already regret I got so much.
They're glad the project's dying.
I even thought of raising the money
by selling some of my land for a loan to the town,
to be repaid at leisure.
But I found no buyers
except a shady Briton who wanted to build a golf course.
I'd have lost all my land.
And it didn't fit my idea of a people's playground.
You mustn't ruin yourself.
Ruin myself!
If it had served any purpose, I'd have done it.
But a politician
must be realistic...
He's no Don Quixote, he's a pioneer.
Pioneers must be followed.
They must be guided so they can guide, too.
But no one's following me.
Let's have a drink.
Zoe, get my geography book, please.
A letter for your Dad.
The mayor's office!
"Dear friends, the town council
has cancelled plans for a cultural centre
for lack of funds.
The district planning office, for safety reasons, insists
on changes that are well beyond our budget."
I knew it!
If I hadn't talked to him...
Well done!
You'll be a Deputy!
Give her a hand.
Now the countryside will bloom, Swallows will have lots of room.
Fields covered with flowers bright, For the ladybugs' delight!
No more insecticides, No more pesticides,
No more diesel oil, No roads the view to spoil,
We'll breathe in oxygen, Instead of kerosene.
No garbage dumps that tower, No more atomic power,
No holes in the old ozone, No zones...
Of planning bureaucratic...
No more media library, And the lending library...
...in an old attic.
The video collection in a disused mill.
The discs will sound sweller in the cellar.
We will all live in the country,
Among the meadows and the fields,
We can live like landed gentry
On whatever the soil yields.
If you're a most important clerk,
accountant or data brain,
There'll be no need to go to work
In an auto, or by train.
We'll be on permanent vacation
In agricultural elation.
What luck!
We've found the best solution
For the coming generation.
In that case, for the weekend
And for all holidays,
Instead of flying to Ostend,
To Caracas or Cathay,
Lounging in Atlantic City,
or on the Bay of Biscay
We will go into the city,
with its broad diversity.
There we'll take our pleasure
As we while away our leisure...
What luck!
We've found the best solution
For the coming generation.
What luck!
We've found the best solution
for the coming generation."