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Marius 1931 CD1

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- Hey, Marius. - Yes, Fanny?
- What are you thinking about? - You, maybe.
Liar.
- You think I never do? - Only when you see me.
Buy me a coffee.
All right. Father's asleep.
Tell me...
why weren't you at the dance last night?
There's a dance every Sunday at the Cascade.
- Do you go? - Yes.
- You meet nice people. - Like who?
André, Monsieur Bouzique, Victor.
I danced with Victor all evening.
Does he dance as stupidly as he walks?
You're awful.
Why don't you come?
- I can't dance. - I could teach you.
I'd rather not.
Where did you go?
I went for a walk, to breathe the night air on the jetty.
- All alone? - Yes, but I ran into Monsieur Brun.
- He's back? - Yesterday.
Why did he go?
To take a course. He went to Paris a clerk and came back an inspector.
- Inspectors earn a lot of money. - Monsieur Brun?
They need to, with all those starched collars they wear.
That's the Saigon.
- How do you know? - And the Yara's whistle.
What's that?
- That whistle. - It's the Yara.
Idiot. It's the percolator.
You bought her a coffee?
Want a cup?
Why?
There'll be nothing left for our customers.
You begrudge me a cup of coffee?
- It's the principle of the thing. - What principle?
Drinking the profits.
You make me look so small.
Make you look small? How?
What do you take me for?
A son who must obey his father.
At his age?
I was 32 when I felt my father's boot for the last time.
We knew what love and respect were in those days.
- And a kick in the pants. - We didn't answer back.
I can't imagine Mother hitting me.
You'd snivel in a corner.
It's a pity your father isn't here to whip you into shape.
All our children do is poison our lives.
Poison your life? I share the work.
Some sharing. Never here when you're wanted.
- I'm here all day. - He's right.
What business is it of yours?
You work the whole time with such a sad, sorry expression.
Anyone would think you were a teetotaler.
Maybe I'm neurasthenic.
- Is that catching? - It just happens.
Don't try to make fun of your father.
And you go and sell your shellfish. Leave us alone.
You're a slacker.
Just like your Uncle Emil.
Just dragging his own shadow along wore him out.
You moon about, don't know your job.
You don't even know your own job.
You can't make a vermouth and black currant.
And as for a Picon-Curaçao, forget it.
Yesterday old Cougard came to complain.
And yet it's easy. Look.
You put one third Curaçao.
A very small third, mind you.
A third of lemon.
A good third of Picon.
And then a large third of water.
That's four thirds.
So?
A glass only holds three thirds.
That depends on the size of the thirds.
- No, it doesn't. - Why not?
It's arithmetic.
Well, don't try to change the subject.
And the drip on the bottle. Is that arithmetic too?
What drip?
The drip you always leave on the bottle. It's not difficult.
You have to pour it like this.
Twist the bottle and put the drip back with the cork.
But Master Marius doesn't care, so it trickles onto the label.
That's why the bottles are easier to pick up than put down.
- Funny, is it? - You're laughing too.
If I didn't, I'd cry.
Tomorrow at 9:00 all hands on deck.
Drumroll!
Leading Seaman Piquoiseau, I declare you
Chevalier of the Legion of Honor.
Drumroll!
Have you gone crazy?
There's a spy on board.
Admiral Escartefigue, you're reduced to the ranks.
Put him in irons till we reach Manila.
Admiral Escartefigue is reduced to the ranks.
Captain!
- Isn't it time we left, Captain? - Are there enough people?
- They're signaling like mad on the quay. - How?
Like this.
It's probably just some Italians talking.
No, they're gesticulating.
I'll see to it later.
Meanwhile, raise some steam and pull the whistle.
That'll calm them down.
Only three blasts or you'll use up all the steam.
And don't open the throttle too far.
Otherwise it will never shut again.
The ferry isn't popular anymore?
The transporter bridge has taken away my customers.
Now they all use the bridge.
It's modern, and they aren't seasick.
You've had people get seasick on your boat? Who?
Me.
- On a 300-foot crossing? - What 300 feet?
It's 675 feet.
I should know. I've crossed every day for the last 30 years.
Thirty years.
Monsieur Escartefigue,
how do you feel when you see the others?
What others?
The boats that go out rather than across the harbor.
Why should I think anything?
They go so far.
Yes, and sometimes so deep.
Last thing at night, when you see all the lights on the water,
haven't you ever wanted
to turn round and put out to sea?
Out to sea? You're mad, my poor Marius.
- No. I see through you. - And what do you see?
You hate being stuck here.
- I hate it? - Yes, own up.
When you drink with the captains
back from Brazil or Madagascar,
when they tell you about their voyages,
I can see you care.
I'm glad they're home safe and sound.
- That's all? - That's all.
Marius, I'm proud to be a sailor and a captain,
master on board after God.
But Madagascar can go to hell.
I've nothing against patriotism.
I'm glad the French flag flies over those faraway lands,
though I can't say it does much for me.
But to go there - especially by boat - no thanks.
I'm quite happy here.
I can't believe my ears.
Well, so long.
He's calling me.
He hates to keep passengers waiting. Such a good lad.
He's using up all my steam. The silly ass! Idiot!
Look out. Full steam ahead.
So, Monsieur Brun, what did you think of Paris?
Sensational.
Did you manage to explore at all?
I took a stroll each evening.
- So you met Landolfi. - Who's that?
He was in the army with me.
Tall and fair. With a mustache and a constant blink.
You can't miss him.
No, I didn't see him.
Then you can't have been in Paris.
But I was.
- And you didn't see Landolfi? - No.
Then he must be dead.
- Paris is very big, you know. - Sure, it's big.
It's a lot bigger than Marseilles, right?
Forty times as big.
That trip has gone to your head.
They say we Marseillais exaggerate.
But 40 times bigger. That's a good one.
You're a true Lyonnais.
Oh, my God, it's 12:30.
Where's he gone?
To change. Today's Monday.
- What's so special about Mondays? - Don't you know?
Every Monday my father has lunch with his girlfriend.
A beautiful buxom Italian.
No, he's changed to a Dutch woman at least twice the size.
When he goes to see her, he makes excuses to hide it.
But it's no crime. He's a widower.
A widower? Please!
Don't say that word, Monsieur Brun.
- You don't know of my misfortune? - What misfortune?
Madame Panisse?
Three months tomorrow.
On Friday, she'd eaten a sumptuous dish of snails and fish.
- And that Sunday she passed away. - Just like that?
Say what you will, the good Lord is not very kind.
Such a devoted wife, and so good at putting the employees to work.
And at home she loved a laugh.
She was always ready for a little joke.
At breakfast, I'd chase her round the table in her shift.
I'd give her little slaps. I'd pinch her nicely... in fun.
In revenge, she'd tickle me.
I'm sure you'd rather not talk about it.
When I think that all that is gone forever.
I weep every night. I can't go on, Monsieur Brun.
What's to be done?
I've made up my mind.
Come on now. Think it over.
I have already. I can't endure such suffering any longer.
Don't act hastily.
I've decided to marry again at once.
- Marry again? - As soon as possible.
After all, she's dead.
I can't bring her back.
Some may say I've not waited long enough,
but my conscience is clear.
I've wept more in four months than others do in years.
Tears as big as that, Monsieur Brun.
And moans and cries - I don't know how I've borne it.
Yes, I'm to be pitied.
Cheers.
What do you think?
I'll wager you've got someone in mind.
Yes, of course. I'm going to propose today.
Who is it?
I can't tell you yet.
But I'll be sending you an invitation to the wedding.
I'm inviting all my clients and friends.
There will be only one person missing.
My poor Felicity. She always loved a party.
But that's life. It wasn't God's will.
She'll be happier up there looking down on events.
The Malaisie's mate is here.
Right. It's a big order. I must put my best foot forward.
They asked about sails yesterday.
- A large ship? - Yes, leaving on an expedition.
On a three-master?
They'll be studying winds and currents in the South Seas.
There's an auxiliary engine.
Panisse, hurry up.
That's enough. All in good time.
- You want to kill me? - We must all die one day.
When one isn't rich, one has to work.
He's none too happy.
In Marseilles, nothing comes harder than work.
So, Fanny, is it settled?
What?
I may ask your mother for your hand?
Anyone may ask.
You don't think I'm being foolish?
That's for Mother to decide.
The exquisite modesty of a true maiden.
There you are, sir. I won't keep you a moment.
Pretend you know nothing. He thinks no one knows.
Well, I'm going out.
Just for a little walk round the town.
Nothing important.
I really must get rid of this hat.
I may pop into Mostegui's
for some fish soup and a steak with fries.
Well, I'm off.
No need to explain yourself.
I'm not explaining myself. Why should I, at my age?
I'm just informing you that I'm going to Mostegui's.
So that's where we can find you.
No, there's no need for anyone to come to Mostegui's.
If you want something,
ask me now.
You said...
I said... I've nothing to say.
I don't need your permission to go out.
Of course not.
Damn it, what does this inquisition mean?
If I were 86, I'd understand your spying on me.
But I'm not senile. I won't drown.
Dad, off you go. It's quite natural.
There you are.
My son says it's quite natural. I shall go - naturally.
People should mind their own business.
It's mere suspicion.
And I won't be suspected by a Lyonnais.
No offense meant.
If Picon comes, take 12 bottles.
That'll be 240 francs.
Twelve bottles. Don't forget.
No need to tell me. Leave it to me.
Good God, give me patience.
What did I do to deserve such a son?
He can't be mine. I don't believe it.
If Picon comes, take 12 bottles.
On second thought, don't. I'll telephone.
- My poor boy. - What do you mean?
You'll be late for your own funeral.
Panisse, have you really thought about this?
Of course I have.
She's 30 years your junior.
Is that my fault?
I'll give her everything she wants - money, jewels...
You're a good man,
but I'm afraid she might find something lacking.
I'll say no more.
Don't talk about what you don't know.
- I know love is wonderful. - Agreed.
- But it's best at 20. - She is 20.
- But you're 50. - And I've got lots of money.
My dear Panisse, nightgowns don't have pockets.
I'm only speaking for your own good.
You'd be a good catch,
but when I look at you, I see a huge pair of horns.
You're wrong. Just say yes and leave the rest to me.
I'm going to be married.
To whom?
No one knows yet.
I'm telling you because I need some advice.
Who is it?
- He asked for my hand. - Who did?
- Perhaps I shouldn't say. - Don't then.
You'll know soon enough.
It's Victor. Everybody knows that.
He comes every night for your shellfish.
It's a wonder he hasn't died.
- Proving what? - He's an idiot.
And he won't get the shop till his dad dies.
I don't want the shop, and I don't care a fig for Victor.
Then who is it?
What? Old Panisse?
- You don't believe me? - No, I don't.
- So you won't advise me? - Yes, when you find a better story.
The man has bags under his eyes.
Taking a rest, my dear?
Keeping cool.
Yes, "The sun is king today
but hide your lovely face
lest he should burn in his embrace
the pride of Love's nosegay."
- Well said. - Did you make that up?
I'd say I did, but you'd only see it on the pots of face cream
in the window of the corner shop.
But the right poem at the right time lends tone to a conversation.
Marius, two anisettes.
- Is one of those for me? - Who else?
Come and sit down.
I talked to your mother.
She's checking my accounts,
but I think she'll agree, if you say yes.
Give me a few days to consider.
Of course. I don't mind waiting.
I'll be even more pleased when you say yes.
- How many workers do you have? - Twenty-three.
Fill up those glasses, my boy.
- They are full. - Liar.
I'm lying?
- Then let me fill them. - Careful! You're spilling it.
He's a bit tired today.
That's no way to behave.
Darn. I forgot my matches.
Wait, Panisse.
How delightful a light is when proffered by a pretty hand.
My hands aren't pretty.
They're so small. So soft... and warm.
And such a pretty ring.
- You like it? - Very much.
Is it gold?
I don't know. It was in a cracker.
Then it must be brass.
Too bad. Do you have a gold ring?
But your necklace is gold?
Yes, my Aunt Zoé gave it to me for my First Communion.
It's very pretty.
What's the medallion on it?
Just a minute. I'll show you.
- What does it say? - My date of birth.
Fanny, your mother's calling you.
- I didn't hear anything. - Well, she is.
She knows where to find you.
Let's talk seriously.
Your mother and I have discussed figures and...
Am I disturbing your chat?
You stopped talking.
We may have private matters to discuss.
Some filth, I reckon.
Filth? Don't be so rude.
Remember whom you're addressing.
Looking at you makes me feel sick.
Don't look then.
- And don't scowl at me. - So now I'm scowling at you?
- Have you gone mad? - Poor lunatic.
Lunatics can be very dangerous. I know one who'd love to hit you.
Hit me? My poor boy.
Come out here, if you're a man.
- You're still wet behind the ears. - Just see if I am.
You're afraid.
Marius, you don't want to see me roused.
Don't I? You miserable wretch.
Wretch? Did you call me a wretch?
Leave this to us men.
Hold my hat.
- Go on, hit me! - Box my ears.
- Poor kid. - Miserable wretch.
- Poor boy. - Shopkeeper!
- All talk and no action. - You're all hot air.
- If I'd less control... - If your hair weren't gray.
You want me to tear it out? Is that it?
You've got customers.
I'm busy!
Thank your lucky stars.
Fanny, business calls.
Will you come over for tea later?
Why not here?
I'll never set foot in this bar again.
People should know their place.
Your Parisian accent doesn't impress me.
I will expect you later.
Two anisettes at two francs twenty-five.
That's four francs fifty.
Here's five francs.
Keep the change... waiter.
You shouldn't get worked up over things that don't concern you.
If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes!
It's shameful what you're doing to that poor old man.
What poor old man?
You might have killed him.
When he looked down your blouse, he went as red as a lobster.
You went redder.
Besides, I'm wearing a bra.
- And it's none of your business anyway. - You're right.
I've got better things to worry about.
I don't like to see you becoming like your Aunt Zoé.
Don't I have a right to marry?
Come on. Think it through.
What does that mean?
Marriage doesn't end at the church.
It's a start.
- And after that? - The wedding breakfast.
- Then what? - I'll see.
- He'll kiss you. - If he must.
He'll kiss you on the neck and lips.
Don't talk about that.
I have to. It'll be too late afterwards.
He'll take you in his arms... the dirty old man.
Dirty bastard!
You can laugh, but it's not true.
What's not true?
You think I'm jealous.
You have to be in love to be jealous.
Exactly. And I'm not.
We're friends, nothing more.
Mind you, I could easily have fallen for you.
You're so pretty.
But I didn't want to.
- Can you look after the place a moment? - What if there's a customer?
I won't be long.
Bartoli will take you on.
- For how long? - Ten months.
Ten months?
Suez, Aden, Bombay, Colombo, Makassar,
Sydney. The same voyage as the Malaisie.
All right.
It's not a sure thing yet. I've signed on a Corsican.
But if he's not here tonight, you can take his place.
We sail at midnight.
So soon?
So much the better.
- How will I know? - I'll come and tell you.
Your papers are in order?
What's the matter?
Just a headache.
Was that why you were crying all night long too?
Enough of this nonsense. Tell me the truth.
I'm leaving for Aix tonight, and I'm not going till you tell me.
Don't worry, Mother. It's nothing.
I suppose it's that worthless Marius.
I've been watching him for a long time.
You love him?
How stupid can you be?
You can have Monsieur Panisse.
Such a nice man, so kind,
so charming and so rich too.
Yet you weep over a boy who washes glasses.
Well, if that's what you want, I won't stop you.
Come on, you little ninny.
Don't cry. If you want him, you'll have him.
He doesn't want me.
He doesn't want you?
He doesn't want to marry me.
He said that? When? Where? Why?
Go and tell Panisse to come over for some champagne.
It's a long way.
It's only a step. Get a move on.
- What will you give me if I go? - A glass of wine. Now go!
Panisse! Come and have some champagne with Monsieur César.
You damned idiot! You'll have every drunk in town rushing in here.
Here's some for you.
I didn't see you yesterday. Let's have some champagne.
Since you ask me, it would be impolite to refuse.
But I swore I'd never set foot in this place again.
Why would you swear that?
Your son was very rude.
My son was rude?
Yes, very rude.
Next time I see him, I will kick him in the backside.
Notice I'm not wearing espadrilles. I've got shoes on today.
- You say that to me? - Yes, to you.
Lay a hand on Marius
and I'll kick you so hard your teeth will chatter.
Lay a finger on Marius
and you'll wake up in the hospital.
You don't scare me.
Touch one hair of his head
and you'll wake up in the cemetery.
I've knocked out bigger men than you.
Holy Virgin, it's murder- but you asked for it.
The champagne!
What a pity. It's not chilled.
Yes, it's a bit warm.
But it's not bad.
I'll put a bottle down the well for tomorrow.
We'll soon arrange it. Don't worry.
But if you don't want Monsieur Panisse,
you should tell him so right away.
I'll speak to César, that brute!
No, Mother, please don't tell anyone.
Let me deal with this myself, please.
Very well. I won't say anything.
I promise.
Though I'd like to give that barman who rejected you a piece of my mind!
Come on, silly. Eat your soup.
And don't cry into it. It's salty enough as it is.
Panisse, if you meet Marius, don't kick him.
You know I won't. It was only my pride talking.
To your health.
- What did the boy do? - He provoked me.
He mocked me and my gray hair.
You must have said something.
You picked a quarrel with him.
Why would I do that?
I know I've got a quick temper,
but I'd never start a quarrel that could end in a massacre.
I wasn't even looking at him when he pounced on me.
Really?
He tried to strangle me.
If he starts throttling my customers, what will become of us?
- Something's wrong with that boy. - Like what?
I don't know. Haven't you noticed anything?
Yes, that he tried to strangle me.
That's not important.
Do you know if he has a mistress?
No, I don't.
It's a woman, mark my words.
Love makes men so stupid.
You don't think he fancies Fanny, do you?
Surely not. They've known each other too long.
I say that because, when he attacked me,
I was sitting beside Fanny.
- Meaning what? - Maybe he thought I was courting her.
Who?
You?
Go on. You're joking.
He wouldn't be jealous of an old man like you.
Look at you. You're like an old monkey.
No, a woman must be making him suffer.
I'm afraid it's
Madame Escartefigue.
She's made enough men happy.
She'd hardly turn away the son of a friend.
Speak to Marius.
I suppose I must.
Marius may be 23,
but I'd still cuff him if need be.
All the same, I can't talk to him about women.
- It's my stupid modesty. - Modesty?
Paternal modesty.
You're very fastidious.
You'd feel the same way if you had a son.
This shoe is pressing on my corn.
Those are fine shoes you have there.
- Are they torpedoes too? - They're my wedding shoes.
You must have kept them in mothballs.
They're so tight, I think they'll burst.
Maybe they won't come off.
I can always use scissors.
No hard feelings, César?
Don't worry about your son. It will pass.
You look like a ballet dancer.
Don't go playing football in those shoes.
Good-bye, my friend.
She's a fine ship.
Come on board.
Evening, César.
Still out at this hour?
I'm leaving on the midnight train to see my sister.
I came here early because I wanted to talk to you.
Go ahead.
- It's not that easy. - What is it?
It's about Fanny.
Fanny... and Marius.
Have a seat.
That's a nice hat. What will you have to drink?
A mandarin and lemon.
What's up between Fanny and Marius?
Is it so hard to say?
Panisse wants my child.
What for?
In marriage.
Panisse wants to marry Fanny?
He asked me this morning.
He's out of his mind.
He wants my answer tomorrow.
What does Fanny say?
She'll say yes if she can't have the one she wants.
And it's Marius she wants?
Exactly.
Now I understand yesterday's carnage.
A terrible fight.
The police came. It was pandemonium.
Marius wants her to reject Panisse.
Did he say he loved her?
He hinted at it.
Did he kiss her?
No. He hinted at it, she said.
Without kissing her? That's odd.
But they want each other?
Marius said he couldn't marry her.
He won't say why.
He doesn't answer, and he makes her cry.
Is that any way to behave?
What's he waiting for? A princess?
Don't lose your temper, Norine.
Maybe he doesn't love her.
Then why is he jealous of Panisse?
This should be easy to settle.
Do it then, because if my child goes on crying,
I'll set fire to this place.
Calm down now, and sit down.
We'll ask Marius about it when he comes in.
- Not me. - Why?
He mustn't know I was here.
I know what men are like.
If he hears I came to ask,
whenever she lets fall a remark, he'll say,
"You asked for me.
Your mother said you cried," etc.
He'll hate her, and they'll be unhappy.
But Fanny mustn't talk about Panisse either.
I know what women are like.
Their first quarrel and she'll say,
"I turned down a wealthy man for you.
I'd have had a car, a maid, a boat," etc.
It would be the end of him.
I know all about that from my poor wife.
In 20 years she never let me forget
the cattle dealer who proposed to her.
But there'll never be another like her.
You say nothing, and I'll see she never mentions Panisse.
Shall we drink to it?
To your health.
Do you like the idea of this marriage?
That remains to be seen.
What would you give Fanny?
The cockle business.
With a good assistant,
it could bring in 40 francs a day, net profit.
That's not much.
Some people would be glad to take her with nothing.
My girl isn't a hunchback.
And my boy isn't lame.
You may find taller, bigger men, but none more handsome.
Laugh if you like, but it's the truth.
I'm not saying it because the lad's mine, but he's a fine boy.
He's handsome! Very handsome!
Don't make me angry.
Just 'cause he's handsome, does he have to marry a Rothschild?
Of course not. But, if they get married right away,
and if they have kids, they'll need money.
In that case, I'd give them an allowance
as long as I had my fish stall.
What will you give your boy?
Me?
He'll help me in the bar till I retire.
They can live here.
And I'll give him 1,500 francs a month.
That's not enough. You must give him more than that.
Such as?
You should give him
a cod steak, some fresh turbot,
a few crabs and some bream.
You better stop drinking.
It's bad for you.
I'd rather have some crayfish.
Is this for fish soup?
Fish soup.
So you're just getting in?
We'll talk about it in the morning.
Yes, that sort of soup won't keep.
I'm off.
Good-bye, César, Marius.
Hello, my dear. What can I do for you?
I'd like to talk to you.
Let's go inside.
Where did you go tonight?
I was playing billiards at the Brasserie Suisse.
With whom?
With some friends.
I'm sure that's not true.
You were somewhere else.
But that's not important.
I've something serious to tell you.
What?
I've lost my cap.
Behind you, on the table.
Listen.
One of these days you'll get married.
Me?
Why?
Why? It's natural, and good for business.
Surely you don't want to remain a bachelor.
I've given it no thought.
Maybe it's time you did.
Panisse has asked Fanny to marry him.
I don't see the connection.
Marius, don't take me for an idiot.
Can't you hear me? Don't take me for an idiot.
I know you love Fanny.
- Who told you that? - A little bird.
A clever little bird.
You love Fanny, and I can prove it.
That's why you attacked Panisse like a wild beast,
nearly throttling the poor old chap.
He's out to find you. He's put shoes on.
He's walking around like this.
- We just had a little quarrel about... - About what?
I don't even know what.
I know. It was about Fanny. You wanted to eliminate a rival.
You idiot. If you want to eliminate your rival,
propose to Fanny.
You think she'd accept?
You talked to her mother?
What?
You talked to her mother?
What was that? What do you mean?
Ah, her mother.
She has a pretty hat.
No, I didn't talk to her, but I think she'd say yes.
Maybe.
But I'm not interested.
I don't think I love her enough to marry her.
You're lying.
Why?
- 'Cause you're lying. - I'm lying?
What's all this? I said you're lying.
You love Fanny. You're furious because someone else wants her,
yet you refuse to marry her.
You're very trying, Marius.
If you're crazy, be honest and tell me.
I'll send you to the loony bin.
If you're not, trust me and tell the truth.
There's a woman at the bottom of this, isn't there?
Tell me!
Yes... you're right.
I guessed as much.
Who is she?
Listen...
I'm embarrassed to talk about it.
Me too.
But I want to know why you're being so stupid.
You can't love the girl.
Maybe I pity her.
And that's what makes you stupid? Listen, Marius.
All right, I'll explain.
I loved a girl,
and she's in love with me.
I'd hurt her if I said I was getting married.
She might kill herself.
Don't exaggerate.
I need time to get her used to the idea.
It's as simple as that.
Simple.
Well, let's forget it.