1
To our fathers...
Is that you?
Hello.
As I said,
it's a series of portraits
in which I film people
in their private lives.
I try to get
a different point of view on them
and their careers.
They can be singers, like you,
or sports figures or...
dancers, painters, politicians.
- Portraits.
- That's right.
All right...
I'm in.
But why me?
The truth is, it's my mom who...
gave me the idea
of doing a portrait of you.
And I liked the idea.
She's a fan.
She really liked you a lot.
She liked me? But not any more?
Unfortunately she passed away...
Excuse me. I'm sorry.
- Sorry, I didn't know.
- No problem.
I couldn't know, of course.
When did she die?
Last year.
It's still painful.
You're scrunching your eyebrows...
It's always tough.
She still loves me up above.
- With her wings.
- I think so.
Her angel wings.
Well, nice to meet you.
Me too, Guy. Thanks.
What is it? Hricourt?
On the telephone.
That's right.
Gauthier.
It's a pleasure.
Guy Jamet.
I always have to see you
with that camera?
Yes, often.
You won't ever let it go.
We can talk without the camera too.
You don't want to.
Little robot.
I know nothing of you yet
Where you're from or if you'll come
But I know, my sweet love,
I'll wait for you
Some singers are part of us.
Like the soundtrack of our life.
We associate them with an event,
with school vacations,
fun with friends or one person.
Chicken salad, okay?
Still listen to Guy Jamet?
When I hear Guy Jamet
on the radio, at the supermarket,
anywhere,
I think of my mother.
Making memories?
She adored him.
And we adored teasing her about it.
While throwing out her stuff,
I found a letter for me.
In it, she informed me
Guy Jamet was my father.
She probably wanted it kept a secret.
But I had to meet him.
This encounter led to a film.
She'd forgotten to forbid that.
Do you remember our very first time?
I remember!
Who'd forget something like that?
Do you remember our song back then?
Our refrain was dadoo dee dooda
We will sing it once more
So our love will endure
So no one will ignore
It's the song of our heart
Happiness off the chart
And I sing dadoo dee doo deeda
And my love is always for you
The older I get, the blinder I get.
I have to admit Sophie is right.
She says I can't see a thing.
But I'm not the one
who crashed my Mini-Cooper into a boar.
Now she rides a bike.
Boars are nasty motherfuckers.
- You okay, hon?
- Yes, love!
They're glad to see you.
Not too hot?
Careful, suntan cream.
No, I'm fine.
Little doggies.
Staying there?
Gauthier?
You took them up?
They were too hot.
I washed them.
Escobar's paw still hurts.
Ticks?
No, he has some kind of wart.
"Clown", 8 letters.
"Clown" in 8.
Still here?
I thought you'd left.
"Fantasist."
Oh yeah.
Lots of mail.
It's bills, bills... stuff to pay.
No one sends postcards anymore.
There were funny ones.
Women with tits and ass.
"Kisses from St. Tropez".
I always found them funny.
Work for models
whose careers never took off,
but who had big boobs.
What?
Nothing.
You live in the countryside.
Sort of like your retirement.
Where are you from?
I'm from Metz.
La Moselle.
I was born there. My parents too.
I grew up there.
Until I went to Paris.
When I was young.
Singing from the start,
given my grades.
I knew how to strum.
Guitar.
Back then,
you could go to Paris
thinking you're gonna make it.
Without a cent!
JR got it good.
Off we go... on a walk.
Branches in your face.
Sophie!
We're going now.
I met Sophie at a dinner.
It was a charity thing.
She was seated to my right.
The others were ass-wipes.
We barely spoke.
But she and I did.
She was cute, amazing.
She had an ass to die for.
Still does.
And she takes care of me.
When did you use clay?
He's in pain.
I put it on Thursday
and some this morning.
And the blue spay for the cuts?
The yellow and the blue.
I don't see any.
You didn't put enough.
It's starting to get better there.
That's the cream.
You hungry, Gauthier?
No, I'm fine, thanks.
She's hot.
Each time I think he's a "she".
- Who?
- Her.
He has balls. Nerve of you!
The way you braid him is girlish.
He's good-looking.
Good-looking horse.
Guy too.
I'm more into dogs. I'm more...
They're more human, more...
We have the same astrological traits.
It's wild.
I love canine astrology.
I learned about it...
It's my passion.
Canine astrology?
It widens the sphere of impossibilities.
I mean, the sphere of possibilities.
People think:
Guy Jamet, popular singer.
He had lots of hits.
You expect a huge villa
like Brigitte Bardot.
In fact you have a small home
in the boondocks.
Not so small.
This home is enough for me.
And Sophie.
At first it was a little shack.
More than a shack,
but we kept adding on.
I had lots of problems...
money problems.
I became every clich
artists like me can become.
These cables are dangerous.
She organizes my stuff badly.
I get banged up.
Little dear.
Our inspiration for this...
was images from...
American cinema.
Hair curlers for hours on end.
They found it more romantic.
I looked dumb as hell,
like a Beatles wannabe.
"Do it wavy."
The manager's idea.
Not too clever.
This is my real hair.
It's the real suppleness
my hair has.
The idea of a girl who sang backup
who said to do that modern stuff.
Here are the 45s.
Claude Franois, who knows why.
He annoyed me.
I was jealous.
And I didn't like his music.
But that voice...
Hey, Magnolia...
So nasal.
Unbearable.
No one ever told him.
No one said
"Claude, it's nasal, it sucks."
Then he changed that lightbulb.
You have kids?
Yes, a son.
Frdric.
I had him with Anne-Marie.
So pretty.
Just one son.
One isn't bad, right?
Yeah, not bad.
You don't like that.
I do.
The old living room clock
is still in a state of shock
It stopped ticking last year
I was just a child
Since then, time is suspended
I'm waiting here on death row
Meticulous handwriting
On embossed stationery
To tell you in a few words
Maybe I'll be back
Well, well. That's nice.
All alone?
Like a grownup.
In the spring of your winters
You can't get used to it
I'd like to unhook the moon
In the dawn of your beautiful sunsets
Meticulous handwriting
On embossed stationery
To tell you a few words
Maybe I'll be back
Definitely Lyon.
It lets me get in
"Everyone from Grenoble, Rouen..."
Nantes for sure...
I pretend to leave, then I come back.
Grand Duke!
It's a pain, because...
I lose one after another.
It's begun.
I won't go totally bald
because my father wasn't.
You won't lose yours.
I know because it shows.
Step back. This stuff stinks.
You can attack someone
with hairspray.
Spray it in a thug's face
and he'll beat it.
But this is the best.
If ever you need it. "Elnett".
With the lady on it.
You're laughing.
Mick Jagger uses it. Nothing else.
He stopped trashing hotels.
He uses Elnett.
Grand Duke!
Pain in the ass...
What are you listening to?
You don't listen to...
I listen to lots of stuff.
Mostly contemporary, but it depends.
Contemporary is fine,
but you don't have a song?
We all have a song.
I have one song in my heart.
We all have one...
One that's like Proust's madeleine.
I like Leaving on a Jet Plane.
By John Denver.
That's a classic.
Grand Duke!
I was shrieking your name.
It's all good. We're in...
- We're in what?
- We're in...
- Strawberries, but no cigarettes.
- I thought they...
- They're good.
- Got berries.
Get me cigarettes.
Mine aren't in my vanity case.
Put them in it.
I always have the vanity on me.
- It's not loud enough.
- No, it isn't.
We need a keyboard.
She says she needs a keyboard.
Why not play violin?
I told you before.
I'd love you to play violin.
All right.
I'll try.
It'd be nice because...
a girl on bass looks dumb.
It's true.
A girl on bass looks dumb.
Corinne from "Telephone"
is back in her suburb.
Give me yours.
Grand Duke, where are mine?
What?
I don't have my glasses.
Careful, she changed each stanza.
Nothing's the same.
I hadn't seen the stars in...
...in such a long time.
"Such" works well.
I lived like a... The hard part.
Sound less like a right-wing asshole.
It's true. Good job.
Don't forget I changed stuff.
Like a flower in spring
Opening to see the day
He hums his refrain
Whispering his love
He starts letting go, in rhythm
With no sense of modesty
Lost in his imagination, he dances
A slow dance with the moon
I was looking at the memories
In the name of you and me
More reverb.
And we're... fifteen
for a second time
A slow dance with the moon
I hadn't seen the stars in...
such a long time
I lived like a sad clown
in a makeshift circus
With the candor of a kid
slow dancing with the moon
Sarah didn't get any.
They're all so nice.
- Aren't they?
- Lovely.
Grand Duke, pour him some.
- I was coming.
- Be nice.
I'd like to start
by saying "bravo" to Nathalie.
It's a pleasure having you.
She booked us here.
Nice theater!
Great venue. "Michel Colucci".
Marvelous.
Everyone likes it.
Whether they come
from dance or theater,
they love this place.
It's convivial.
Like Michel is protecting us.
It's a swell name, "Michel Colucci."
We usually say Coluche.
And Nathalie said
"No, his name was Michel Colucci."
He had a first name.
But "Jean-Philippe Smet Theater"
wouldn't work.
Jean-Philippe, yes.
But it works with Coluche.
Why not a theater in your name?
The Guy Jamet Theater.
Guy Jamet!
To the Guy Jamet Theater!
The Guy Jamet Theater.
What a great idea!
Thanks for having us.
It's a pleasure...
Eye to eye!
Bravo to all of you. Really!
She can play double bass, electric bass.
Anything!
It's the image.
Does anyone want dessert?
I asked, but...
Coffee would be great.
Ice cream, Jacquot?
He'll have the usual vanilla-strawberry.
So...
Who pays for the damage? Me!
- No, me.
- Quiet, put that away.
- No, no...
- Enough.
No, but anyway...
Grand Duke, get my thing.
Quiet.
Go get it. You know my code.
This wasn't the plan.
It's the plan. I'm a revolutionary.
Nice night.
But so short each time.
If you come back around here, call.
I better not hear you came by.
You'd get angry.
I'd get very, very angry.
You don't want to see me angry...
Away the day slowly slips
Last moment far from you
Kissing your lips
Pressing against you
Without that, I don't exist
There's not a minute to lose
Last call for your sheets
I'm going to take off
I'm going to fly away
One-way ticket to your arms
Passionately
Attracted like magnets
Live your night, dream your day
Passionately
Love is a game for lovers
A sleight of hands under the covers
Impassioned passionately
Look how pretty that is.
Jewelry is your thing.
Give it to me.
You want an article in here?
It's not easy. I'll inquire.
You never answered for France Dimanche.
- So it's no?
- Yes.
Even with 3 full pages?
Look, here's a guy who does...
He's funny, too.
He's funny. Ahmed Sylla.
He's funny. Wonderful.
So I refuse? They're into it.
I won't do it, my dear.
You're a pain in the neck.
They wanted to do a story
with the horses and stuff.
But the day you get
cancer in your balls,
they're happy snapping
cancer-ward pics.
They're into it, but I only have
two days to tell them.
And RTL radio?
RTL is coming along.
You didn't want to do the couch show?
- Yes, with Chapier.
- Chapier left.
I know Chapier left.
Who is it?
That guy Fogiel.
Good job!
I know.
It was Chapier's show.
It's the same concept.
I agreed to it.
Stphanie is my publicist.
- It's been...
- 40 years.
Exactly 40?
We did Caresses.
Did caresses...
Quiet. Shut your mouth.
Sorry.
That's not it.
He wrote Caresses then.
This little lady here was a turbo jet.
She's still pretty.
See how gallant he is?
Thanks, Gauthier.
She was a bombshell.
She's not showing off her assets.
I wanted to do something here.
A highlight?
Like it?
What do you think?
To make it darker?
Or tint it.
Here.
It's old playboy.
So what?
For those who missed the boat,
remember...
Lots of them missed it.
We'll go back for them.
Guy Jamet... is this.
He is my most loyal courier
Without a glance, we said it all
But also, this.
A waking dream
Like a goddess
who slides up by my side
But my favorite Guy Jamet is this.
They walk hand and hand
on the promenade
Listening over and over
to their serenades
What a pleasure having you on Europe 1.
I'm thrilled.
You must like coming back.
Back to Europe 1? Yes.
I meant back on stage.
Actually I never left the stage.
The stage was always there.
I kept on playing galas.
But it was taking me a while
to write an album,
so I thought
it was a good time to re-release
and re-orchestrate these tracks
and some unreleased ones.
And you're going back on stage?
We're doing a gala...
My publicist is holding up messages.
Reminders.
A walking Post-it.
I have some dates planned,
about forty galas.
Annecy, Grenoble, Lyon, Frjus.
Our listeners can find the dates
on our website.
Next is Juliet Bose.
How are you?
Fine, thanks.
- I'm trembling.
- You can!
You said to beware of Juliet.
I told him and Juliet has free reign.
The way you phrase it
means I'm dead meat.
Did Guy inspire you?
I'm a little embarrassed, Mr. Jamet.
I didn't prepare a segment,
thinking you were already dead.
It's starting.
I had no news of you.
I figured you were up in heaven.
I'm thrilled to see that you are.
Not any heaven. Seventh heaven.
At the top of the nirvana scale,
because you're thrilled
thanks to your best-of...
- Double best-of.
- Double, sorry.
And it lets you reconnect
with your public.
Or rather, your "Publ" or your "Blic"
because after so long,
your public must be truncated.
Given your career span,
a lot of your fans must be
six feet under...
Under the influence!
She makes puns. It's great.
So to all of them I say...
"Fear not, Guy Jamet is back."
I even shout: "Guy Jamet is back!"
in case their hearing aids are off.
So, in two weeks?
I'll come.
I'll try to come.
Take care.
Want me to drop you off?
I'll keep an eye out.
Hold on.
We finish the one before.
Then I'll go sit on the stool, as usual.
With the little anecdote
about "a certain age".
"Blah, blah, blah, a certain age..."
The cables...
Why don't you put those things?
You're afraid I'll trip
and there's no thing.
So use some masking tape.
I'll do my anecdote. Ready?
You know this one...
My age-old fans... I'm getting old.
It's true.
At one point,
when you wake up you notice
your pelvis is a lot more stiff.
It makes the girls laugh,
but it's true.
Jacquot.
I hear too much of Jacquot.
Pelvis. That's nice from behind, girls.
Thing, pelvis, alas, it's true.
You hit bumps, what can I say?
But we can always, of course...
we can always....
count on some delicious...
Caresses.
That's what bothers me.
Let them scream when I start singing.
I won't keep on doing my sketch.
When you're 40,
you think you can screw around,
you're invincible.
When I wrote this song, I thought so.
Then you get older
and your knee hurts...
The screw loses its grip...
The hip has seen better days.
That man knows it.
Right, ma'am?
But of course,
we can always count on...
eternal love...
which is so powerful...
which breaks barriers.
Tenderness...
for sure.
See where I'm heading?
Caresses!
And caresses!
Your beauty blows me away
I'm under its sway
Pretty soon I won't be able to...
Keep you at bay
The palm of my hand
starts to throb
Against your naked back,
a bit too snob
Both of them humming
Tonight love is coming
When the lights are all out
Our bodies are but one
Your breasts and your skin
Where does your smile end
and mine begin?
Your sighs and your hands
rhyme with...
tenderness, caresses!
Did everyone smoke and pee?
Soon I'll need an escalator.
You ever feel outmoded?
Outmoded?
Surfing on your old hits.
It's been a while since we heard
some new Guy Jamet.
Yes, it's been a while.
But it's cool.
Gee, thanks.
I was wondering: do I get a compliment
or my balls busted?
No, it's cool.
Aren't you...
Am I wrong or are you...
So who am I?
Guy Jamet. You haven't changed.
That wouldn't be honest.
You've changed...
A bit. We all do.
But you're even handsomer.
I'm thrilled to meet you.
You're one of those singers who...
who keep France on its feet.
When we see that young girl
who wears gypsy dresses...
singing, chanting the revolution.
What does she think?
- Who?
- Jaz.
Ah, Zaz!
Exactly.
You agree that her name is nonsense.
I'm so happy to see
that you still exist.
Honestly...
I'll be able to... keep on dreaming.
Thanks a lot.
Thanks for answering.
It's not hard,
letting her say all that?
Letting her what?
Letting her say all that.
Yes, I let her say it.
What do you want me to say?
It was stupid.
I get it. Let's find her
and have a debate.
So I can really corner her.
Isabelle!
He's too busy to see you.
Tell that to the dead girl.
Ballistics say she died 11:30 pm.
Immediately.
I expect excellence from this squad!
Commitment. Faith.
Shit.
Look inside yourselves!
- Isabelle...
- Get off me!
I'm a coroner...
but above all, I'm a cop.
Isabelle... watch out.
Just doing my job.
Isabelle Brogniart, soon on France TV.
I'm thrilled to have Sophie Ravel
and Guy Jamet.
It's a scoop.
We don't often see you together on TV.
This is the first time
we've done press together.
We're both in the news...
My album and her amazing series.
Her series and your best-of,
which we'll discuss later.
- You play a forensic pathologist.
- Indeed.
She looks like...
Strong-willed, yes.
I run a team
and I'm pretty domineering.
But very committed.
Sophie is very committed.
That's what won me over.
Her strength.
That strength of character
that levels everything.
You never wanted to be
on a film shoot together?
Or on an album?
For an album,
I'll make a formal request:
One day I'd like to sing
with Sophie.
- No way!
- I mean it.
You have a secret garden?
Whenever I try to join you,
I'm told: "No, he's in...
his fortress in Provence."
It's not far from you.
Near Aix-en-Provence.
Land of Pagnol.
It's a haven of peace
where you can't be reached?
It's difficult.
I don't open the door easily.
It's a region that I chose.
But I don't think bad regions exist.
Our country never ceases to amaze me.
Every 75 miles
the landscape changes.
Ardche, Le Gers and...
We have a really gorgeous country.
It was a pleasure having you.
You're both in the news.
There's your series: Coroner.
Incredible.
It's with Anne-Marie.
- A young Mick Jagger.
- It's wild!
It was great.
The series looks good.
Can I get a picture of you two?
I'm no big deal.
I'm not much of anything either.
Gauthier, it's Guy.
We need to talk.
I want to see you because...
I want to stop...
It annoys me. Not my thing.
Call me back.
We're rolling, Guy.
My goal is not to hurt you.
So what do you think I am?
Born yesterday? A young virgin?
I see what you're shooting.
I'm no idiot.
What? Shooting what?
Don't use that idiotic tone.
I see, that's all. I see.
You film an old man.
You find him old.
You like nothing of his.
No desire to discover him.
There's nothing worse.
At your age.
You film Sophie and find her dumb.
Yes, you find her dumb.
But she loves me.
You accepted a raw portrait
but show a caricature of yourself.
- Why caricature? What caricature?
- Drucker's show!
You talked such nonsense,
ridiculous clichs: "Yes, indeed..."
What can I say? It's Drucker!
Should I vote a law
while taping Drucker?
Me, Guy Jamet?
With Passionately, Tenderness, Caresses,
Slow Dance with the Moon?
I say:
"Mr. Drucker, my mistake: I hate love...
"I'm sad. I'm depressed...
"Error. Sorry.
Don't buy the CD."
Should I say that to Michel Drucker?
If this life is enough for me,
what do you care?
Caricature, you say.
Maybe it's who I am!
God damn it.
My man Jacquot!
Are you good?
No, Grand Duke has it.
Talk later.
The kid has his dumb camera on me.
Talk to you later, yeah.
Another dummy.
Everyone's dumb. Must be the times.
So what do we do?
I don't know.
I say let's continue. We had a fight.
Fights can be a good thing.
Tonight we perform
the re-orchestrated songs.
- That's cool.
- Cool, yeah.
- You'll film?
- Of course.
Is it nighttime?
Yes, it's nighttime.
Not middle of the night?
We'll wait. It's prettier.
You think "pretty" is tacky?
We can do a morning concert.
Don't play me for a fool.
- I don't play you for one.
- Perfect.
Smoke. You want one.
I scared you. I shouted.
Come on, enough.
This application is jammed.
- I don't have a light.
- Me neither.
It's acting like it wants to leave.
What do I do now?
Hit the big button in the middle.
This one? It'll remove it?
It'll make it stop looking like...
Like it wants to leave.
That's what I want.
See? We learn from each other.
Does she remember our very first time?
She remembers!
Who'd forget something like that?
Does she remember our song back then?
Our refrain was dadoo dee dooda
We will sing it once more
So our love will endure
So no one will ignore
It's the song of our heart
Happiness off the chart
And I sing, she sings,
dadoo dee doo deeda
And my love is always for you
Let me thank Patrice Lanvin,
the owner of this gorgeous hotel.
He honored me by asking me
to share some music
with you tonight.
Music matters.
Keep it in your hearts.
I brought magazines and... water.
I got you wheat crackers.
No more Kit-Kats?
You said some wheats.
I said some sweets.
Not "some wheats".
No big deal.
I feel you laughing.
You're laughing.
- You're laughing.
- Yes.
Why?
Guy Jamet eating wheat crackers
is funny.
Your nonsense brings us to a halt.
People like to know
that Guy Jamet at home
is not the same as on stage.
It's not to tease.
Probably in pajamas and slippers...
Yes, he does!
But that makes people more accessible.
Why do you want to access me?
Why "access"?
It interests people.
Everyone wants
to access one another.
Why access someone up his asshole?
You say people are interested
but why are you filming?
Why are you filming me?
It interests me.
So that's what you say.
It interests you.
I'll take it.
I'll try hard to be interesting.
But you're not "people".
It's time for the wheat cracker sketch.
It can even go like this.
Cut.
Yes or no, dammit?
You're talking crap.
We got rid of the favicon.
- The what?
- The little icon on the top.
I hate that.
I got rid of it.
We simplified
the permalinks and hypertext.
The what?
- That's for blogs.
- Exactly.
We had lots of blank pages.
It was a mess.
One last thing. I think...
web-pushed notifications can help.
For example,
your subscribers surfing the net
get your news flashes.
They get a tiny poke... Yes, an alert.
- A link to your site.
- I get one for...
I understood some verbs and pronouns.
It's awful.
The rest was like...
"We have to... beep... tatata... beep..."
The black background is good.
It's my colors.
This is wonderful. It's...
The roses are nice.
Yes, aren't they?
I don't get it.
There it is!
He got married to a guy.
- Okay... Congrats.
- Thanks.
- With Stphane.
- Guillaume.
Guillaume.
Is he nice with you?
Very.
It's great. There used to be...
Back then, guys were doing it in hiding.
It was no fun.
They'd say:
"No, I'm a corporate lawyer, 4 kids..."
I had a military father.
He scared my mother.
He was awful. Nasty to everyone.
And his step-father is the same.
Horrible.
He marches with his mother
for "Marriage against All".
How awful...
"Marriage Together". Fuck!
Those Catholics
who say anal sex is forbidden.
It says so on the posters.
So now he's in a tough situation
with his parents.
I'm fine, Guy. It's all good.
You should call your mom.
She's scared of him. He's a prick.
It's her choice too.
No false pride.
Call your loving mother.
Blah blah blah,
have a secret dinner in Aix.
It's so awful.
And it's settled without even...
Fuck it.
At least you're on good terms with her.
And she pretends
to get along with that prick.
It's great you got a husband.
Take what you have.
Think positive.
That's what counts.
Dad?
Dad.
Fuck.
Dad.
So what's left? Over there is fine.
Guy!
What?
What are you up to?
I've looked all over!
- I'm here!
- The pool guy too.
The guy for the pool
has been waiting an hour!
- No.
- Why no?
We canceled twice.
I was shouting.
I forgot my phone!
Stop screaming.
I left my phone charging.
I'm not screaming.
If you want to be alone, tell me.
I didn't ask him to come today.
You made me cancel twice.
I made you?
I called because you're too scared to.
Now he's here.
I didn't say to.
I can't open the motor.
I know nothing about pH.
Too bad.
Too bad? He's here!
I can't throw him out.
I told you,
when you were in the bathroom,
I'm going to see the horses.
- I didn't hear. I was on the toilet.
- Prick up your ears!
Prick up your ears.
Fuck it!
Fuck it! I've had enough!
I'll stop dealing with it.
Fuck it.
I'm fed up.
- Crazy...
- What do I tell the pool guy?
Tell him, yeah, yeah.
I need the keys.
I didn't tell the pool guy
to come today.
I think it was Thursday.
- Today's not Thursday.
- Yes, it is.
She's really pissed off.
I made her real mad.
Dammit.
Untie him and I'll go back to her.
In fact I have my phone.
I bet she called a lot.
My love!
I'll be right there.
I'll check the colt.
Screw your colt!
You play piano?
Badly.
Terribly badly.
It wasn't bad.
My fingers slip,
I hit the wrong keys.
I sound like a beginner.
I didn't even record.
As for guitar,
I've lost all my dexterity.
I had an accident
a few years ago.
You write your songs?
A few of them.
Da-dee-doo with my beauty.
I wrote it.
She played piano. It was luck.
Anne-Marie played well.
Da-Dee-Doo is my favorite piece.
That's your favorite?
It's the song of our heart
Happiness off the chart
And you sing, I sing,
dadoo dee doo deeda
And my love will always be you
It's a postcard.
Do you remember our very first time?
I remember!
Who'd forget something like that?
Do you remember our song back then?
Our refrain was dadoo dee dooda
We will sing it once more
So our love will endure
So no one will ignore
It's the song of our heart
Happiness off the chart
And you sing dadoo dee doo deeda
And my love is always for you
I need a leather goods store.
I need a cover for an iFan, an iTry.
iPad?
A tablet.
Why did you become an artist?
I don't think you become an artist.
It's a mindset.
It doesn't mean you have talent.
I may not.
But I know I'm an artist,
in my spirit, my mindset.
It's an anger.
An author named Novarina
said that actors
- same for artists -
is knowing
you're missing a limb.
Not the dick.
But it's true.
Indiscipline is swell.
Remember that.
They put up a fence.
Proves my point.
No more leather goods shops?
It's like hardware stores.
They're history.
I used to love hardware stores
as a kid.
I have stage fright.
It's silly.
Seeing your son?
Yeah.
It's absurd.
Why?
It'll be great.
I have stage fright.
You okay?
He didn't take his gift?
Yes, he did.
He left the flower.
Being a good father isn't easy.
No, it isn't.
There are good ones.
I think you're a good father.
You give gifts, your time.
You're present.
It's good.
It's good.
You're a nice guy, Gauthier.
It's true.
You did your job now.
Some fathers never give gifts
or meet for lunch.
Think so?
Some fathers don't even exist.
You think so?
You're an alcoholic.
Of course it stresses him out.
I was discreetly sliding this glass.
I'll drink from it.
And you'll join me.
Waiter?
What the hell is she up to?
Unbelievable!
I came late on purpose...
and she beat me to it.
The only woman
who ever made me wait.
Here I am like a mussel
clamped onto a rock.
Voicemail.
Yes, I imagine...
Did we get confirmation?
Yes, you two even spoke.
We worked by phone.
We're going to start...
I added a little mi at one point.
Yes, you told me.
Because the voice is like Joni Mitchell.
It's become low.
Here, it would be nice
if we did some harmony.
Me and you.
I'll let you start on...
Here.
Over time...
I almost forgot about us
You're high up.
Don't worry, I'll make you remember
As for now,
all we have to do is sing
I'll take it down on "Yes, now..."
- I like it.
- Good!
- Think so?
- Do it.
- You don't mind?
- Nope.
She sings, if she's here.
Yes, now...
I know singing is enough
Much better.
And my love is always for you
Call her, for God's sake!
Yes, now...
I know singing is enough
I messed up.
Can we start over?
Goddammit, I could kill you.
You know I'm always late.
I know.
You made yourself gorgeous.
Barely...
Let me say hi to Julien.
- How are you?
- Great.
Here, thanks.
You'll sing with us on the show?
The arpeggio is nice.
And high up...
Okay.
You can do "We will sing it once more".
I'll do "So our love will endure".
And all of us: "So no one will ignore".
She whispers. Did you hear?
- And you sing...
- I sing...
Nice. It does something to me.
New hairdo?
Do you remember our very first time?
I remember!
Who'd forget something like that?
Do you remember our song back then?
Our refrain was dadoo dee dooda
We will sing it once more
So our love will endure
So no one will ignore
It's the song from our heart
Happiness off the chart
Over time, I almost forgot about us
Don't worry, I'll make you remember
Yes now, I know singing is enough
Just like us, a few dadoo dee dooda
We will sing it once more
So our love will endure
So no one will ignore
Sitting, for now.
What is it, the color?
If Julien had glasses,
we'd look like a group.
Is everyone here?
I tell you everything.
Not everything.
You seem happy together.
Yes, we are.
We always are.
Yeah, we are.
Not always.
Together but not always.
That's not bad.
Together but not always.
That sums us up.
She's the queen of formulas.
She found the name "Icarus".
It was like being at home.
A pretty lively household.
At first it was just for friends,
but then...
It was pitch black.
All that was black.
- It was narrower.
- A little smaller.
Having fun isn't what it used to be.
It's touching.
Sort of.
They all have TVs.
Internet access too.
Read emails and work.
You can work while exercising,
sweating.
Hello, how are you?
Going that way?
Let's go.
If you told me this was our disco,
I'd say you're not on the ball.
Maybe we're not on the ball.
Disco ball.
Use your arms.
He said to use our arms.
We used them any which way.
Like this, like that, you know...
They're in sync.
You're in sync!
Our own rhythm if you don't mind.
We got rhythm.
Subdued light, like we imagined.
That's right.
Kings.
Kings of the world.
Did you see Frdric?
Yes, we had lunch together
at Montmartre.
And for his b-day, his birthday,
I bought a...
a cover for an iPad, in leather.
Then he went back to work.
He said he was very happy.
If you know, why are you asking?
You want to corroborate?
Double-check?
Stop smiling. It's annoying.
Get going. Enough already.
Pain in the ass.
You okay?
Turn that thing off.
Shit.
We men are funny.
Here we are,
sitting here for a while,
without saying a word.
But we enjoy ourselves.
What I usually do is,
I watch people pass by...
and I imagine they're serial killers.
I could like that game.
Look at any person.
They can be a serial killer.
Anyone can be a serial killer.
Look at that lady.
Poisoner from Cantal.
She has a B&B. With her omelets,
she killed them all.
They puked for weeks.
No one connected it to her.
One day they all said:
"Weren't we at a B&B in Ardche?"
He's obviously one.
The carver of St. Petersburg.
This one teaches stretching.
He exhausts them, then drowns them.
That lady in pink.
What could she have done?
She looks like a throat-slitter.
The Montreuil slitter.
Jackie the Red.
They're from Lyon, right?
From the paper Le Progrs.
And people from Talloires too.
- Talloires?
- By Annecy.
- Near the lake?
- Exactly.
You'll be okay?
The old living room clock
is still in a state of shock
It stopped ticking last year
When I was just a child
Since then, time is suspended
I'm waiting here on death row
Meticulous handwriting
On embossed stationery
To tell you in a few words
Maybe I'll be back...
I wanted to pay tribute tonight
to a friend...
who has cast his magic on us
from a faraway land.
Canada.
A wonderful song by Robert Charlebois.
Montreal.
I'll come back to Montreal
In a big Boeing, ocean blue...
Is she your daughter?
And falling from the winter sky,
blue roses, gold roses
How's it going?
I'm thirsty!
This is Sarah.
Number one.
I'll come back to Montreal
And listen to the ocean wind
Crashing like a giant horse
Against winter's white ramparts
I want to see the long desert
The streets that never end
Which lead to the end of winter
Without the slightest footprint
I'll come back to Montreal
To get married with the winter
Are you tired?
I'm in pain.
Every concert is
a little time that goes by.
There go another two hours!
It was good, Guy.
- Really?
- Yes, it was.
Why are you here?
With the horses.
With the other one.
With the colt? He's sweet.
Such generous creatures.
Because you can mount them?
Deer don't give a fuck.
They'd do this.
I wouldn't accept anything
yanking me from behind,
"Come on, let's take a walk, Gramps."
I'll leave this to dry.
I'm glad you came to see them.
Come and see.
Look.
Come.
Meet Mr. Botero...
Touch him.
I chew, to show I understand.
Mr. Gauthier...
Look here.
Take his foot. Would you dare?
Take it, or he doesn't understand.
Take it.
You'll come with me one day.
- Riding?
- Yes.
I don't know.
I'd like it.
No one in my family rides.
She prefers animals
five fucking inches high.
I ride alone in the bush,
like an idiot.
I'll just film you leaving.
Do as you please.
- It'll look pretty.
- Pretty?
Come on, boy.
Let's look pretty for Mr. Gauthier.
Fuck.
Guy!
Verdict?
16.5.
What are you plotting?
You have to stop...
horseback riding.
There we go.
Yes.
I can't keep covering for you.
I can't keep lying.
Your producer calls.
Don't answer.
You mustn't answer the producer
or those insurance assholes.
You're my doctor.
If I don't answer them, who will?
Ever read your contract?
Don't be a pain with that.
Look what you signed.
It's not the question.
You photocopied it?
You bet I photocopied it.
Are you a cop or what?
I do it to protect you.
I know what I signed
with that piece of shit...
"Guy Jamet is forbidden
to engage in any dangerous activities,
"including any sports
that would put his health at risk."
You signed that.
Life's a risk, isn't it?
"Obviously forbidden are extreme sports,
"like mountain climbing, parachuting,
"but also any leisurely sports which,
"due to Guy Jamet's age,
may put him at risk.
"If this clause is breached
"and his tour is interrupted,
"Guy Jamet agrees
that he will be liable to the producer
"for any financial loss
"to collect any amount
"reimbursed in addition to fees
"and eventual producer shares."
I'm thinking about your health too.
I'm fine. Cut the crap.
What are you scared of?
I'm scared for you.
No, you're scared for yourself.
You all look out for number one.
Crazy damn society.
Fucking Stasi.
- What are you doing?
- Getting up.
Am I not allowed, contractually?
Who gave you the contract?
- Your producer.
- He's wonderful.
Don't talk to me
about your goddamned ethics.
Society of cops, jerks and scammers.
Let him go.
Leave me alone.
Pieces of shit.
There's a step.
Maybe call the insurance, honey?
Assholes!
I'll walk him like a dog.
Big dog.
We'll ride like this.
Daddy keeps falling.
No other choice, buddy.
I've grown old.
But I haven't changed.
We never do.
We get chipped.
Like a vase.
It ends up looking different
because a kid dropped it.
The handle is broken.
Perhaps the spout is different.
Then the color of the ceramic fades.
But it's the same vase.
I haven't changed.
I like being alive.
I do. I even like suffering a bit
and being happy at times.
Alternating suits me fine.
Your favorite word?
"Luck", I think.
- Lovely.
- And "indiscipline".
Least favorite?
"Caquelon", "ramekin".
Let's toast!
Favorite piece of music?
It's not at all...
folk music.
It's Csar Franck's preludes.
They're all my age.
Who inspired you musically?
It's silly, but my generation: Elvis.
Regrets?
Yes.
It's dumb to say no.
Yes I do.
Life isn't a homework assignment
we can do over.
If God exists,
what might he tell you after you die?
I'd tell him stuff.
"I'll forgive you, if you forgive me."
It's from the Talmud, really.
Let's toast in shot/reverse shot.
Favorite drug?
Drugs are great,
but I'm not allowed to say it.
No, you mustn't.
What can I say? It's fun.
We tell kids it's bad.
First we should say it's fun,
then explain why not.
You hold it well.
I'm blown away.
I'm addictive to the max, kiddo.
My body has seen it all.
Addicts must redirect their addictions.
I passed mine into alco...
So I thought sex.
Sex and alcohol and I'm fulfilled.
My interplanetary void is fulfilled.
- I didn't see you.
- It's you!
- How are you?
- Well.
That's Gauthier.
Hello, ma'am. Nice to meet you.
My friend Clara.
My friend Clara, Gauthier.
Look at the Alps.
How's the air up there?
Want to go skiing?
Nice evening, wasn't it, Gauthier?
It's far, isn't it?
The car? Yes.
About 500 meters.
Want me to drive?
Excuse me?
Want me to drive?
What an insult!
So what?
What?
Come on.
Don't freak out. He's a bum.
He's allowed to be here.
He's not well.
Yep.
It's over a girl?
Careful!
She left!
They all leave.
I got dumped too,
but I didn't sit on a bag for days.
Sleep on your bed.
Get some sleep.
It'll chase away the dark thoughts.
It's crazy how they dress in season.
Despite it all,
he's dressed in season.
Look, Converses and sandals.
They're slims, my man.
My wife doesn't want me
to smoke regulars.
- Same thing.
- I know...
Aim, aim.
Look at the cigarette tip.
Yes, now give it back.
So long!
How much was that?
You see what we gave
those girls with the boobs?
Half-naked girls dancing on our dicks.
We can give as much to him,
half-naked on the asphalt.
Wait!
She's asleep.
She's so pretty asleep.
Want a beer?
Yeah.
When you've had too much to drink,
you have to drink.
It's almost daybreak.
I have an idea.
What?
I have a good idea.
Don't move.
Daddy's upset.
No, Guy...
This is a very bad idea.
Not smart at all.
This isn't right.
It's the best time.
It'll be nice and calm. No flies.
I want to teach you something, my boy.
I don't ride. End of story.
You will.
Do you trust me?
Yeah, but...
Look at me, Gauthier.
Answer me.
Do you trust me or don't you?
Yes.
So come.
We're drunk, so you better do your job.
Ride the one that threw me off.
- The nervous one?
- No, he's just...
- He's not nervous?
- Nope.
We're not going riding.
Yes, we are.
Jesus.
I need to.
Get on.
What a beauty!
Fuck!
Come on, follow me.
You're doing great.
Shit.
Fuck them all!
It's doing us good.
Your generation should do this,
instead of being well-behaved dicks!
Does your son ride?
We used to ride together sometimes.
But now with his work...
I don't know.
If you two still rode,
would you let him ride...
half-drunk in the forest?
Sure.
If it were the case, I'd be here.
I'd be here.
Guy?
Nothing.
Give me that thing.
I almost dropped it.
Look how handsome he is.
Gorgeous.
A drunken prince.
But a prince all the same.
Your mother saw me in concert in Tours?
Look at me.
Tours is pretty.
Time goes by fast, doesn't it?
Then we go our separate ways, right?
No choice.
So I'll make a souvenir...
of the handsome horseman.
How else?
How else?
Still afraid?
Start galloping.
Gallop, my boy.
All the images will disappear.
They'll all suddenly vanish,
like the millions of images
in our grandparents' heads,
and those of our parents.
One day we'll be
in our children's memories,
amid our grandchildren...
and others unborn.
Like desire,
memory never stops.
It pairs the dead to the living,
real people to imaginary ones,
dreams to history.
It vanishes in a second.
Then it will be silence.
No words to say it.
The open mouth will say nothing.
Neither "I"...
nor "me".
In dinner conversations,
we'll be but a first name,
more and more faceless,
fading into the anonymous mass
of a faraway generation.
To Tom... And Ferdinand.