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MY LIFE TO LIVE A film in twelve scenes Lend yourself to others and give yourself to yourself. Montaigne A café. Nana wants to leave Paul. The pin-table Do you really like the guy? I don't know. I wonder what I'm thinking about? Has he more money than me? -What do you care? What's the matter? Nothing; I wanted to be very precise I didn't know the best way to say it Or, rather, I did know, but I don't any more Just when I should know, too. Does it never happen to you? Don't you ever talk about anything but yourself? You are horrible I'm not horrible, Nana, I'm sad I'm not sad, Paul. I'm horrible Don't just parrot lines. This isn't a stage You never do as I ask; you always want me to do what you want Anyway, I'm fed up. I want to die I mean it Parrot talk Loving you is exhausting. I'm always having to beg I exist too. You say I'm cruel, but it's you Why do you say that? It isn't true. When? On Sunday evening? You know when... I begged you to introduce me to that man You did it on purpose Yes, I did I despise you I'd just betray you again Don't say that I thought it was important to talk to you, but I don't any more We might have got together again But the more we talk, the less the words mean If I make it on the stage, it won't be thanks to you Acting isn't everything You, too! Why do you say that? If it's what I want, why should you mind? Someone may discover me one day Well, don't give up I haven't given up music. Not like your English lessons I'm not giving up. That guy is going to take pictures of me Maybe I'll get into films That'll be the day You are horrible, Paul You really are... it's always the same thing You say you love me, but you don't think of me as someone special I hardly love you any more, but I still think you're someone special Where does saying that get you? I think everyone is the same You don't approve of my working? It's not really your scene You're leaving me because I'm poor When all's said and done, maybe Have you got the photos you mentioned on the phone? I forgot about them. They'll be ready at the end of the week Is he all right, eating well? He had earache, but the doctor said it was nothing What's your job at Pathé-Marconi? I sell records Can you lend me 2,000 francs? Out of the question Your parents must be glad I've gone They liked you I bet! What's that look for? Nothing Let's not start quarreling again Shall we have a play? Got a coin? I only have one Go on, you start Those essays Dad's students write... What about them? He read us some wonderful efforts at dinner yesterday They're just kids, they had to describe their favorite animals One little girl of eight chose a bird It went: "A bird is an animal with an inside and an outside "Remove the outside, there's the inside "Remove the inside and you see the soul" The record shop. Two thousand francs. Nana lives her life We're out of stock Judy Garland? Have you a guitar recording by Roméo... What's his name? Raphaël Romero Raphaël Romero on guitar In the racks at the back Is Rita still away? I think she'll be back on Thursday She owes me 2,000 francs Lend me 2,000? -No way; I'm broke Is it serious? -No, it's OK That looks great The story's dumb, but it's very well written He gazed at the turquoise, star-laden sky, then turned to me "As one who lives intensely, logically you..." I interrupted him "You attach too much importance to logic" For a few seconds I was filled with a bitter sense of triumph Forgotten, my broken heart Forgotten, too, the need to put on a brave face Yes, a distinctly elegant way of escaping this dilemma The concierge. Paul. The Passion of Joan of Arc. A journalist Please give me my key Oh, all right Come on, give me that key! I have the pictures He doesn't look like me at all, he looks more like you Coming to dinner? -No I must go Come and eat I'm not hungry. I want to see a film. Goodbye We are to prepare you for death So soon? What death? At the stake How can you still believe you were sent by God? God knows where he leads us, but we know the path of our journey Yes, I'm his child And the great victory? It will be my martyrdom And the deliverance? Death Death I've said goodbye I bought your movie ticket Too bad Didn't we have a date? I wondered if you would come Why, am I late? A little, but that's not why I wondered Usually I'm very punctual Eleven at night is very late I thought you'd forgotten, too What will you have? Any rolls left? A coffee, then Was that a boyfriend of yours? No, it was my brother Have you many brothers? Five brothers and three sisters You're surprised? It's a fact What's new since Wednesday? Nothing much Is that red car outside yours? What is it? A Jaguar? No, an Alfa Romeo. Are you interested in cars? I don't know a thing about them When shall we do those photographs? Tell me, I told you I was willing I'm only free on Sundays I'm off to London on Sunday Well then, I don't know How about now? Are you tired? If I say no, you won't think I'm awful? No, not at all Do you really think I could get into films? I think so. Look, I've brought you a composite sheet I'd like to do something like that What's it for? You send them out to people in films and a few days later maybe they phone you I'm a bit shy about undressing It's nothing much, you know Can you lend me 2,000 francs? I would, but I haven't got it Come on, I'm tired What about my pictures? You'll stay with me, then? The police. Nana is questioned Born April 15th, 1940, at Flexburg, Moselle No fixed address. Is that right? Well, what happened? Well, I was walking down the street and I saw a woman buying a magazine Well, then... she took some money out of her bag She didn't notice she'd dropped 1,000 francs So then... I pretended to buy a magazine, too and I put my foot on her 1,000 francs She left and... And she noticed? She came back towards me and she stared into my eyes for a long time So then I gave her back the money Then why did she bring this charge? I don't know. I think it was very mean of her Have you no one to go to in Paris? Friends, sometimes Boys? Sometimes Why not ask for an advance? I have already, too often What are you going to do? I don't know... I... I... is someone else The boulevards. The first man. The room How about it? Is it here? You've been here before? Anyone there? Room 27 or 28? Room 27 Smoke? There's never an ashtray How much do you want? I don't know, it's up to you I don't know Four thousand francs? You owe me 1,000 I have no change Never mind, keep it Take everything off, though Why not on the mouth? Meeting Yvette. A café in the suburbs Raoul. Gunshots in the street Yvette, how are you? I hardly recognized you How are you? -And you? I'm getting by So am l. -Good for you Why? -I thought that... Why are you here? To dance? Shall we have a drink? How's Raymond? I'll tell you all about it What happened? Life's so hard I'd like to get away, escape to the tropics Escape's a pipe dream That's life I'll be back in a minute Well, tell me One evening, Raymond came home with railway tickets to Brest He said he had a job, so we all moved and went to live in a hotel by the harbor I saw nothing of him He was "working" I'd take the children out, buy them ice cream I worried because I couldn't figure how he earned his money One evening, after three weeks he just never came back I had to manage on my own with the children my mother-in-law didn't want to look after Gradually, I became a prostitute; it was easier Then, two years later I went to the movies one evening and saw him acting in an American film And now? Everything's fine But not much fun It's depressing, but that's not my fault I think we're always responsible for our actions. We're free I raise my hand - I'm responsible I turn my head - I'm responsible I am unhappy - I'm responsible I smoke - I'm responsible I shut my eyes - I'm responsible I forget I'm responsible, but I am I told you there's no escape Everything is good You only have to take an interest in things After all, things are what they are A message is a message Plates are plates Men are men And life is life The boy I greeted wants to meet you. Do you mind? I don't mind She's no film star, this baby of mine She works on the factory assembly line We live in one room down by the railway track With a lovely view of the warehouse out back No Riviera for us on our holidays No family with a fond Daddy who plays But the light that shines in my baby's eyes Is more to me than the stars in the sky And when the rest of the town starts to doze The late evening sun in our window glows We whisper in the secrecy of our own four walls And make love together as darkness falls Is she a lady or a tramp? Insult her. If she's a tramp, she'll get angry; if a lady, she'll smile We'll see Are you a friend of Yvette's? I already know you You don't. -It was three months ago Boulevard Saint-Germain, looking at photos That's true Why did you deny it? You parrot anything You're ridiculous. Why are you looking at me like that? You look stupid, and your hair looks awful Wait, I've got something to tell you My eyes The letter. Raoul again. The Champs Elysées Dear Madame, a friend who worked for you gave me your address I would like to come and work for you I am 22 I think I am pretty My height is... My hair is short but grows very fast I enclose a photo and... So it's you? The classic letter Yes, it's me How did you find me? I followed you. I was in my car and I saw you come in here You've got nerve No, you are very beautiful You disappeared fast the other day When was that? When the crook was shot; you just vanished I don't think they were crooks, it was some political stuff Oh, well... In any case, I didn't mean that you weren't brave I was just making conversation What do you think of me? I think you are very good You have great goodness in your eyes I see, I didn't understand; it's a funny thing to say Why? I wasn't expecting a Catholic answer. What I meant was: Do you place me in a special category of women? Do you like being special? Why? No reason For me, there are three types of girls Some have one expression, some have two, some have three Is the address from Yvette? Are you serious? Why? I want to earn more money I can help you earn even more here Really? I'm willing Why haven't you tried to get into films? I did. Two years ago, I wanted to make it on the stage I was in Pacifico at the Châtelet Once I was in a film with Eddie Constantine I'm telling you my life story. How awful I'm a friend Give me a smile. -I don't feel like it Shall I come with you? When do I start? When the city lights go up, the streetwalker's endless beat begins Afternoons. Money. Sinks. Pleasure. Hotels What is the routine? The prostitute trades on her charms to build up a good clientele and establish lucrative conditions Must she be beautiful? No, although beauty is an important factor in a prostitute's career It attracts the attention of the pimp since physical allure can be an immense source of profit Must she register? Since the law of April 13th, 1946 prostitutes are subject to medical but not police supervision The 1946 law and decree 2,253 of November 5th, 1947 established the National Sanitary Register for all women shown by conclusive evidence to be leading a life of prostitution But what must I do? Everywhere the procedure is the same By her dress, attitude and make-up the prostitute indicates her trade Sometimes, in defiance of the law she will appeal directly to the client What do I charge? From 300 to 15,000 francs for a meeting varying from a few minutes to an hour The rate for a whole night ranges from 5,000 to 50,000 francs Can I go anywhere I like? Controls have been attempted. In Paris, for instance a police regulation of August 25th 1958 forbids loitering with intent at certain hours, in the Bois de Boulogne and around the Champs Elysées Do I keep all the money? A daily tax is agreed Around the Champs Elysées 20,000 to 30,000 francs a day Payable weekly Do I have a room? Hotels usually change the towels, not sheets Beds are often made just with a bottom sheet The police? They conduct raids, interrogations Anyone infringing regulations is sent for medical tests Can I drink in a café? A drunken prostitute is a liability undesirable because she creates scenes If I'm pregnant? People think prostitutes always have abortions That's not true They do try to avoid pregnancy, by chemical or other means But when pregnancy is confirmed, abortions are rare Must I accept anyone? The prostitute must always be at the client's disposal She must accept anyone who pays That one... that one... Are there clients every day? Lower-grade prostitutes average five to eight clients a day They earn 4,000 to 8,000 a day, but some earn extraordinary sums Sixty clients a day is not unheard of on Saturdays or holidays A young man. Luigi. Nana wonders whether she's happy What about days off? Usually after the medical check Her man usually takes her out often to see her child in the country Afterwards, they go to a restaurant or a movie Is Luigi here? -He's upstairs I'll be five minutes The film's started, anyway Any cigarettes? What kind? -I just wanted to know Any cigarettes? -They have them downstairs How are you? -So-so We were supposed to go to the movies I'll cheer you up I'll do the kid blowing up a balloon You ought to be my man Now will you let us talk? The streets. A guy. Happiness is no fun Inspector Fleytoux has bought a BMW They could have supplied chairs It's always like this How much? -3,000. 5,000 if I undress Just one more. -I must keep some One of those, then? A little one. I'll be very nice Do you come here often? Haven't we met before? -Maybe What's your name? That's a nice name Yes, I'm fond of it What's your job? I do advertising pictures Is that like the films? -No, they're stills I was in a film with Eddie Constantine No Pity. Did you see it? You don't talk. Are you romantic? If you give me more, you can stay You want a second girl? I'll see Are you going? -Yes Can you spare five minutes? -Ask Monique, she's in 41 What's up? -Nothing They never work See you on Tuesday What are you doing? -I'm going down Can you spare a moment? -How much? Ask him. -All right Room 45 Arrange it with her What's your name? -Elizabeth, like the Queen of England Shall I strip, too? -No, it's not worth it So I'm to do nothing? -I don't know Like that Place du Châtelet. A stranger. Nana the unwitting philosopher Mind if I look? You look bored. -Not at all What are you doing? -I'm reading Will you buy me a drink? -If you like Do you come here often? -Occasionally. I happened by Why are you reading? -It's my job It's odd Suddenly I don't know what to say; it often happens to me I know what I want to say. I think about whether it is what I mean But when the moment comes to speak, I can't say it Yes, of course You've read The Three Musketeers? I saw the film. Why? Because in it, Porthos this is really in Twenty Years Later Porthos, tall, strong, a little stupid he's never thought in his life He has to place a bomb in a cellar to blow it up He does it He places the bomb, lights the fuse, then he runs away, of course But suddenly he begins to think What about? How it is possible to put one foot before the other? You must have thought about that, too So he stops running. He can't go on, he can't move forward The bomb explodes, the cellar falls on him He holds it up with his shoulders But after a day, or maybe two, he is crushed to death The first time he thought, it killed him Why did you tell me that story? No reason, just to talk Why must one always talk? Often one shouldn't talk, but live in silence The more one talks, the less the words mean Perhaps, but can one? I don't know I've found that we can't live without talking I'd like to live without talking Yes, it would be nice, wouldn't it? Like loving one another more But it isn't possible But why? Words should express just what one wants to say Do they betray us? But we betray them, too One should be able to express oneself It has been done in writing Think: someone like Plato can still be understood - he can Yet he wrote in Greek, 2,500 years ago No one really knows the language, at least, not exactly Yet something gets through, so we should be able to express ourselves And we must Why must we? To understand each other? We must think, and for thought we need words There's no other way to think To communicate, one must talk; that is our life Yes, but it is very difficult I think life should be easy Your talk of The Three Musketeers may make a good story but it's terrible Yes, but it's a pointer I believe one learns to talk well only when one has renounced life for a time That's the price. -So, to speak is fatal? Speaking is almost a resurrection in relation to life Speech is another life from when one does not speak So, to live in speech one must pass through the death of life without speech I may not be putting it clearly, but there is a kind of ascetic rule that stops one from talking well until one sees life with detachment But one can't live everyday life with... I don't know With detachment We balance, that's why we pass from silence to words We swing between the two because it's the movement of life From everyday life one rises to a life we call superior The thinking life But this life presupposes one has killed the everyday too elementary life Then thinking and talking are the same thing? So I believe Plato said so; it's an old idea One cannot distinguish the thought from the words that express it An instant of thought can only be grasped through words So one must talk and risk lying? Lies, too, are part of our quest. Errors and lies are very similar I don't mean ordinary lies Iike I promise to come tomorrow, but I don't, as I didn't want to You see, those are ploys But a subtle lie is little different from an error One searches and can't find the right word That's why you didn't know what to say You were afraid of not finding the right word. That's the explanation How can one be sure of having found the right word? One must work It needs an effort One must speak in a way that is right, doesn't hurt says what has to be said, does what has to be done without hurting or bruising One must try to be in good faith Someone told me: "There is truth in everything, even in error." That's true. France didn't see it in the seventeenth century They thought one could avoid error and what's more, that one could live directly in the truth It isn't possible Hence Kant, Hegel, German philosophy: to bring us back to life and make us see that we must pass through error to arrive at the truth What do you think about love? The body had to come into it Leibnitz introduced the contingent Contingent truths and necessary truths make up life German philosophy showed us that in life, one thinks with the servitudes and errors of life One must manage with that, that's true Shouldn't love be the only truth? For that, love would always have to be true Do you know anyone who knows at once what he loves? No. When you're twenty you don't know All you know are bits and pieces, you make arbitrary choices Your "I love" is an impure affair But to be completely at one with what you love, you need maturity That means searching. This is the truth of life That's why love is a solution, on condition that it is true The young man again. The oval portrait. Raoul trades Nana What shall we do today? I don't know Shall we go to the Luxembourg? I think it's going to rain I thus saw in vivid light a picture all unnoticed before It was the portrait of a young girl just ripening into womanhood I glanced at the painting hurriedly, and then closed my eyes It was an impulsive movement to gain time for thought to make sure that my vision had not deceived me to calm and subdue my fancy for a more sober and more certain gaze In a very few moments I again looked fixedly at the painting The portrait, I have already said, was that of a young girl It was a mere head and shoulders done in what is technically termed a "vignette" manner much in the style of the favorite heads of Sully The arms, the bosom, and even the ends of the radiant hair melted imperceptibly into the vague yet deep shadow of the background As a thing of art, nothing could be more admirable than the painting itself But it could have been neither the execution of the work nor the immortal beauty of the countenance which so vehemently moved me Least of all could it have been that my fancy had mistaken the head for that of a living person At length, satisfied with the true secret of its effect I fell back within the bed I had found the spell of the picture in a "Iife-likeliness" of expression Is that book yours? -No, I found it here Can I have one? It's our story: a painter portraying his love Shall I go on? And in sooth some who beheld the portrait spoke of its resemblance as of a mighty marvel and a proof not less of the power of the painter than of his deep love for her whom he depicted so surpassingly well But at length, as the labor drew nearer to its conclusion there were admitted none into the turret for the painter had grown wild with the ardor of his work and turned his eyes from the canvas rarely, even to regard his wife And he would not see that the tints which he spread upon the canvas were drawn from the cheeks of her who sat beside him And when many weeks had passed and but little remained to do save one brush upon the mouth and one tint upon the eye the spirit of the lady again flickered up as the flame of the lamp And then the brush was given and then the tint was placed And for one moment, the painter stood entranced before the work he had wrought But in the next, while he yet gazed, he grew tremulous and aghast and crying with a loud voice: "This is indeed Life itself!" turned suddenly to regard his beloved: She was dead I'd like to go to the Louvre No, I don't like looking at pictures Why? Art and beauty are life I adore you And I love you Why not come and live with me? Yes. I'll tell Raoul it's all over Let me put my coat on, at least! Don't be silly What did I do wrong? You must take anyone who pays Not anyone. Sometimes it's degrading That's where you're wrong Weekdays we're too busy to go to the movies and on Sundays there's a line Where to? -Their car Why did you make me come? You're going to stay with them HADES AND SONS Well, are you going? First the girl First the money Get the money 100,000 is missing Don't think I won't shoot just because of the girl You shoot, I forgot to load it |
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