Come, it's wonderful here!
We've got good prices! 40 francs per kilo. They're alive.
Look how pretty, how lively it is!
Madam. Look...
You're not on a diet? You're like that naturally. Not bad.
It's the last of our beautiful whitings. Look, madam.
They're all gone. These are the last slices.
Alright, the last of the Mohicans. Come closer and have a look.
Look, sir. Only 40 francs a kilo.
If you're tired now, what will you be later?
Madam?
Excuse me...
Marinette?
Ciao, Bella!
- Is it open? - Of course. Come up.
I was expecting you.
About the cards... I'll just draw one deck for you
because once I get started, we'll be at it till tomorrow.
Alright. If you prefer.
Auntie Marinette, I'm bringing your pins back.
Thank you, sweetie.
Leave them there, on the window sill.
Be a good girl and close the shutters.
She's my little neighbor.
I can't babysit you for today, sweetie. My friend is here.
Never mind, I'll be back later.
Bye.
There. I'll leave it on low.
And we're ready.
Tell me, Anne, you don't want to sleep here?
No thanks, Marinette, but... I have no plans, no schedule.
I prefer staying at the hotel. I've put my life on hold.
I'd like you to draw them for me.
What, the cards? You haven't changed, have you?
Which would you like?
Belline Tarot?
My English deck? Astrocards?
The Marseilles Tarot, naturally.
- It's your favorite, isn't it? - Of course.
That's my little lover.
Hi, Jean not.
You've got a visitor, Miss Marinette?
Yes. You wanted to see me, Garry?
Well yeah. It's about the battery.
Your eldest is not the sharpest tool in the box.
What can I do? You can repair my battery some other day.
I can't right now.
Too bad.
Alright. Come back another day, Garry.
- Goodbye, ladies. - Ciao, handsome.
Prosperity at the end of your journey.
You see? The crown awaits you.
But listen. Be wary... of a woman who holds power.
She reigns over everything.
But you can destroy her. The other cards give you the strength.
That's a silly pattern. Luckily I don't believe in it at all.
- Isn't that the Death card? - You didn't draw Death.
When you don't know a thing about the Tarot,
you'll make completely wrong mistakes.
Anne...
Is it you?
Do I seem older to you?
I find you... stylish.
Stylish? Older? What horrible words.
First of all, you should say "mature".
Yes, I would have recognized you.
A bit plumper, though.
Oh well.
Nonsense. Shall we have a drink then?
We haven't seen each other since... I don't know...
It's been seven years at least.
And now, just like that, you decide what I like?
I suppose you also want me?
What a man!
Ah, Marseilles!
But Sir, this is so sudden!
I wouldn't dare to understand your intentions.
But do understand, old dear. Understand me well.
I am taking you to bed.
To bed? To bed, how dread full!
To bed”? How sweet!
Then it's agreed. Let's go.
But we have all the time in the world. You're outrageous!
Why are we headed for Carry?
Is it still your fiefdom?
No, that's over.
My parents no longer live there.
But I like coming back here.
It's wilder than on the other side.
And.
I'm showing you the country.
Since you told me you're here as a tourist.
Yeah, but I don't have a swimsuit and have no wish to go in the water.
- Hello, Francis. - How are you, little brother?
- Fine, thanks. - What you will have?
- Well? What will you have? - What will I have? Wait.
- Wait, I'm thinking. - Take your time.
A decaffeinated café liégeois, please.
One mint water and one liégeois, but I don't know if...
Decaffeinated?
You fool!
Is your colleague from Paris, by any chance?
Yes, you know how it is.
Listen, Miss, everything here is regular. The coffee and the liégeois.
But you know, it's quite straightforward.
You put ice cream over the coffee, and whipped cream on top.
You just have to make decaf instead of espresso.
Okay, Francis. We'll settle for the regular lieégeois. It'll do.
That's fine, since I don't have a choice.
My heart will start pounding, and I didn't bring my Crataegus.
Yes, but if your heart must pound
it'll be for me, I hope. I'll find out.
I see. On that note, dear chauvinist...
Where are we going?
For our future lovemaking. Surely you haven't forgotten?
I don't know.
In any case, not at the hotel.
But for a short-lived love story,
isn't a hotel just what we need?
No? Okay, he doesn't like it.
Personally, I'd love it.
Here you are, Sir, Madam.
- Thank you, Francis. - You're welcome.
Not on the beach, though. I'm not the camping type.
I hate sand which gets in everywhere, insidious tar,
- having the sun in my eyes, wind in... - Stop!
I see only one solution to this delicate situation.
My place, beautiful.
Your place? Where is that? In Aix?
No, in my former room. In Marseilles, don't you remember?
The room you rented as a student? The one you never showed me?
You still have it?
For what it costs me! I like that place.
It's where I left my books. No one ever sets foot in there.
Except my landlady, who insists on tidying it up.
She is delighted. I'm the ideal tenant.
I've kept it for myself. Shall I invite you over?
Of course. It's convenient.
- I wonder if the hotel wouldn't have suited me better. - Oh, really?
It's where summer goes on.
Until it suddenly blows up in your face.
How about a walk to the beach?
We could find a creek. On the Gard.
Cuddles in the creek!
Creeks, cuddles!
Creeks in the cuddles!
It's very intimate here.
The last I came, there were people swimming in their dinner jackets.
But they don't bother me.
Note that we're the ones bothering them.
We're ridiculous with our clothes on.
Are we? I'd love to see that.
After all, we could also go for a swim, don't you think?
I already told you: The sea doesn't inspire me.
It's not because I'm prudish.
I don't care for it at all.
I don't know why you came.
But this time, I've got you.
I feel dizzy.
It's the scent of your skin.
I remember your skin.
Always this mix of light tobacco and your subtle amber scent.
Like a Latin lover.
- You haven't changed. - And you're beautiful.
Even more beautiful than before.
I'm still quite disturbed by your beauty.
It's too pretty around here. Too perfect.
Can't we throw in some Parisian grayness?
Dim the lights, especially.
This brightness drowning everything is almost unbearable.
It bleaches your eyelids enough to make me believe in your innocence.
In your sincerity.
You're beautiful.
And mad.
So mad to have left and not waited for me.
Mad to be here now.
Because it's too late.
I'll keep you.
Stay.
We can't help it.
There is no rush.
I've got light years for you.
How could I have let you go?
Let go of me.
We're ridiculous.
We're not fifteen anymore, you know?
And you didn't even let me go.
You had no claim over me.
Don't start again.
I was in love with you. You know that.
Well? Are we done playing games?
Can we love each other in a decent place?
We've wasted enough time, Miss.
We shouldn't wear ourselves out.
You childish angel, admit that you can no longer move.
Paralyzed by my warmth. Admit it, my love.
Believe me, never.
Okay, Anne. We'll stop, if you prefer.
Come, I'll drive you back.
It's silly, I know.
But I'm allowed to play hard to get, aren't 1?
Such a spoiled child!
By the way... We haven't talked about it, but...
Are you still married?
Barely. Well, less and less.
I don't need to justify myself.
But you're showing up at a time when Marie-Odile and I have become...
Friends who no longer wish to see each other privately.
That's very convenient.
In any case, this isn't about her, but about you and me.
I may have gotten married.
I may have made sacrifices for my social life.
But I haven't heard from you in years.
I don't know if you are free or if you have settled with someone.
I'm not married.
I've had enough of the creeks. Enough of talking about your wife.
Take me back.
It's a shame to say goodbye like this.
Couldn't we at least have dinner?
Isn't that where your room was?
Yes, it's close by. Down there.
You see, I'm taking you back to the scene of the crime.
That we didn't commit.
It's the little house with the blue shutters.
My room is the last window on the right.
A false harbor. Boats on dry land. Areal postcard.???
It's always open.
♪ Ten years more, ten years less ♪
♪ I woke up this morning ♪
♪ With an empty head and blue skin ♪
♪ A hammer on my back ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years less ♪
♪ Nostalgia makes me happy ♪
♪ But sleep I like better ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years older ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years, I know ♪
♪ We don't think enough ♪
♪ We should be careful with words ♪
♪ Ten words less, ten words too many ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years, tell me ♪
♪ What good does it do ♪
♪ Gazing so long at each other ♪
♪ Before wounding ourselves till we bleed ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years, truly ♪
♪ Will someone put out my eyes ♪
♪ So I can see better, see clearer ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years older ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years less ♪
♪ Please get me a train ♪
♪ So I can escape, go far away ♪
♪ I can't breathe very well ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years or else ♪
♪ Bury me in your garden ♪
♪ Maybe next to your dog ♪
♪ So I'll hear nothing anymore ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years less ♪
♪ I woke up this morning ♪
♪ With an empty head and blue skin ♪
♪ A hammer on my back ♪
It's a lot like Fanny et Marius.
But more sophisticated.
Say something.
There's nothing to say.
We look beauty in the eye.
We look love in the eye.
Hey, it's a bit juvenile, for a businessman's bachelor pad.
Anne...
It's not bachelor pad. I'm not a businessman.
When will you stop being so insufferable?
Never.
I hate maintaining composure.
Is there a bathroom at least?
Yes. There's a shower. With a hip bath. Will it do?
Oh, a hip bath!
With running water?
With running water.
- You're leaving already? - Yes.
I'll get something to drink.
Do you need anything?
Shall we jump on the bed?
Or are we being formal?
Okay, I get it.
I'll go lock the door.
If you keep on talking, I'll gag you.
Then I'll beat you like the chauvinist you want me to be.
Your skin...
It's outrageously soft.
Your eyes are too tender.
It makes my head spin.
I could scratch your skin, you know.
I've got fingernails.
And you don't know what a wound is.
You're a spoiled child.
How would you know?
I was a spoiled child.
Perhaps.
But I was a loner.
If I was.
I would know it.
Spoiled, I mean.
Christian...
It's not easy after all.
We shouldn't have talked so much.
I'm hungry.
So am I.
Nothing is easy with you.
Even if you've changed.
Come here.
Yes, I've changed. Fortunately.
As for you... I remember.
Your flying lessons.
Your ski trips.
Your easy girlfriends.
Your mommy.
And how about you? Your oppressive virginity.
Surely you've made up for it since.
I'm doing fine, thanks. I'm fully booked.
Congratulations.
In any case, you haven't lost your penchant for derision.
You haven't lost your gullibility.
Anything is still possible, if one listens to you.
We'll make love.
If we can manage it.
And then?
Alright, that's what we're here for.
But don't pretend you're madly in love.
You didn't even know if I still existed just a few hours ago.
I think now is the time to open our bottle.
Here are some sweets to mitigate the effect of your curare arrows.
This stuff is good.
You often cheat on your wife?
Not really. And you?
A man in every port?
Several?
Well, no. To be frank, I'm more and more difficult.
Let's say you've earned a credit.
You have a ten-year bonus.
Assuming that I really like you.
But I'm sure of it. You would always attack me.
Miss Margaritas.
That was you. Remember?
Margaritas ante porcos.
"Pearls before swine."
Your motto.
The pearl necklace of course was you.
The swine, as it happens, were us.
That's hilarious.
I'd forgotten about that.
Well...
Something happened one night.
I came on to you.
At that cocktail party at your parents' shop.
You came on to me, and how!
You shoved a sticky pastry into my mouth.
Then there was silence.
I swallowed it while looking at you.
At that moment...
In spite of your arrogance and my male vanity
thanks to that pastry, the ice had been broken.
I was going to ditch everyone and leave with you.
Then what did your Highness do?
Well, Her Highness turned her proud rear end around
and disappeared.
You even gave Roger a signal. As if he were your lackey.
Indeed, he came at full speed. He took you home in his 2CV.
That was the last time we saw each other.
After that, the young lady lived her life.
Yes. It's a good thing I left.
Boors aren't my thing.
Guys from your generation are phonies.
They grant you one look, and that counts for three months of courting?
Besides, you didn't even know what you wanted.
There was... your cow of a girlfriend.
With her braided hair.
She wouldn't leave you alone.
One time, she put her hand over your eyes so you wouldn't see me.
And you didn't do anything.
I didn't even have time to catch my breath.
You needed a Superman faster than lightning, more cunning than tolerant.
Less of a hypocrite than you, especially.
A pathetic married guy who wants... to treat himself to a love affair?
It's really not for you.
What about you?
You stupid bitch.
You've learned everything, but know nothing.
And you slap others on the wrist to teach them a lesson.
Better and better.
Wine suits you well.
Champagne brings luck.
We're going to need it.
This scene has exhausted me.
I'm hot.
I'm ashamed.
Will you let me speak?
You don't like me all that much, really.
Perhaps cheating on your wife even bothers you.
Although I have precedence over her.
When my mom told me you were getting married...
It came as a shock, I must say.
I don't need to tell you about my marital life.
That doesn't concern you yet.
But I'll be faithful to Marie-Odile.
We've already talked about separating.
Loyalty is often just violence.
Meanwhile...
If we're overwhelmed with passion...
What shall we do?
If you still have your pilot's license, we can work it out.
Marseilles-Roissy in a private plane?
We'll see each other at the Novotel in Roissy.
How exciting!
No, at the Sofitel.
Fantastic!
I like your sense of anticipation.
But when you want something...
Solutions are bound to follow.
I've never loved anyone.
I don't know. I don't think I could.
Within two months, you'd be miserable.
You'd miss your life with her.
I don't know how to live.
Well.
I know how to survive.
I love you.
I've always known that.
You'll be my own spoiled child.
So spoiled.
I've now got my whole life to give you.
It's easy to be happy.
You just have to let go, darling.
Why did you let me go?
When I was in exile.
You know, in Saint-Hilaire.
Me? I let you go?
Your stay in the mountains?
You're the one who should have written.
You never did.
Your parents got divorced around that time.
And we stopped seeing them.
Besides...
You stayed there for three months.
And you make it sound like martyrdom.
You didn't know.
I stayed there for two years.
With the whole shebang.
Drips, intubations, injections.
I was cut off from the world.
From all of you.
At first, I wanted to escape.
I refused to believe that I was sick.
But where would I have fled?
Later, it became bearable.
Enjoyable, even.
The Magic Mountain.
Don't make that face.
After a while, you can't leave the mountain that protects you.
Or the lungers who resemble you and understand you.
I was expecting a letter from you.
I didn't want to play the Lady with the Camellias with you.
This is quite a shock.
I don't understand anymore.
You mother said you'd merely overworked yourself in college.
I remember it very well.
"It will force her to rest."
"With the fast life she's leading at the universities."
She used the plural, I swear.
It doesn't matter all that much.
After all, I was lucky.
Yes. Going there was useful.
I left my Greek and Latin behind.
It was about time.
I met some extraordinary people.
They encouraged me to organize my first fashion show.
In front of a real public.
They helped me some more in Paris.
The ex-lungers' club.
The KB party association.
Translation: Koch's Bacillus.
My karma buddies, if you prefer.
I don't understand anything anymore.
You see, there's nothing to complain about.
All this time I thought you'd consigned me to the scrap heap.
And you were the one waiting for a sign from me?
I can't bear thinking about it.
I would have gone to see you.
I would have waited for you.
And there we are. I should never have told you all that.
I'm crazy.
There was no point in you coming.
We were going nowhere, you know that.
I would have come to see you.
Why did your mother do that?
She never mentioned a sanatorium.
- Let alone... - Tuberculosis?
She didn't mean it. Illness is her specialty.
Since I was beating her indisputably...
She kept the spotlight. You understand?
No. You couldn't.
But it's serious. She made fools of us.
After all, I was entitled to know.
You know, it's serious, but it's not.
Depending on the way you look at it.
My mother was always in denial.
She doesn't want to know what's going on.
Once words have been spoken and actions have been taken.
When my father died, it was the same.
And.
I'm probably like her.
I'm afraid of being an adult.
I don't know. It's painful.
I don't want to justify myself. That's the way I am.
Christian, I beg you, don't make that face.
I want to see your real face.
The other one.
When you look like a happy child.
You know, I do love spoiled children after all.
Just looking at them, you'd think there will always be presents.
Cakes covered with candles.
Christmas trees.
Like you, they have this look of longing on their faces.
A longing that's sure to be satisfied.
My darling child.
My crazy girl.
We can change everything.
We can do anything.
How would you know?
What do you know about violence?
I don't want to love you. Do you understand?
I would rather kill if forced to choose.
Perhaps you'd also like to have children, while we're at it?
What are you waiting for then? Hurry up and fuck me!
At least make me come!
You country bumpkin!
We can't rush this.
We have a second chance.
Sleep, my love.
Farewell, my spoiled child.
It's too late for a cake covered with candles.
♪ Ten years more, ten years less ♪
♪ I woke up this morning ♪
♪ With an empty head and blue skin ♪
♪ A hammer on my back ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years less ♪
♪ Nostalgia makes me happy ♪
♪ But sleep I like better ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years better ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years, I know ♪
♪ We don't think enough ♪
♪ We should be careful with words ♪
♪ Ten words less, ten words too many ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years, tell me ♪
♪ What good does it do ♪
♪ Gazing so long at each other ♪
♪ Before wounding ourselves till we bleed ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years, truly ♪
♪ Will someone put out my eyes ♪
♪ So I can see better, see clearer ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years older ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years less ♪
♪ Please get me a train ♪
♪ So I can escape, go far away ♪
♪ I can't breathe very well ♪
♪ Ten years more, ten years or else ♪
Jacques Mandréa, Brigitte Lahaie,
who are you in this film, Les Volets bleus?
- I'm Christian. - And I'm Anne.
How would you summarize this film?
I would say that...
It's about a man desperately trying to get raped.
And I'd say it's about a man desperately trying to make you believe the opposite.
Ah. And how do you go about doing that?
We can't tell you, but in any case, we try to be funny.
- Moving. - Sensual.
Even impertinent.
Impertinent? And where does this all take place?
It all takes place behind the blue shutters.
And around them, too.
THE BLUE SHUTTERS