The Barbarian Invasions Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the The Barbarian Invasions script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Denys Arcand movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of The Barbarian Invasions. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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The Barbarian Invasions Script


  





 

                   

Hi, Mom.



 

                   

Hi, dear. I have bad news.

Your dad's prognosis isn't good.



 

                   

You have to come.

-Did he ask you to call?



 

                   

Not in so many words.



 

                   

We saw each other for

   minutes last summer.



 

                   

With his flat, bank account,

insurance, the university...



 

                   

Your sister's in Australia.

It's too much for me.



  

                   

I'll see if Gaelle can come.



  

                   

Hi, love.



  

                   

He's worse?

-I have to be there.



  

                   

I'll come.



  

                   

THE BARBARIAN INVASIONS



  

                   

The body of Christ.



  

                   

The body of Christ.



  

                   

The communion's over here.



  

                   

The body of Christ.



  

                   

How's Mr Desmarais?

-I don't know. I'm not Mr Desmarais.



  

                   

Sorry,

the computer system is a mess.



  

                   

Constance Lazure.

- My wife Louise.



  

                   

Must be hard having him here.



  

                   

I threw him out    years ago.



  

                   

So whether he's here

or humping co-eds in his condo...



  

                   

Gimme a break. You know it's been

years since I humped a co-ed



  

                   

And Raphaelle Metellus?

-She was Dominique's student.



  

                   

You were her personal tutor?

"Kneel down, open wide."



  

                   

I'd best continue my rounds. Have a good day!

-You too, Sister.



  

                   

I called Sebastien to let him know.



  

                   

You did?

-Aren't you glad?



  

                   

Lovely, we can play his video games.

-He's still young.



  

                   

Ok, but couldn't he have read

one book in his life?



  

                   

Any  book? Is that asking too much?



  

                   

He may not read, but he earns

more in a month than you in a year.



  

                   

Thanks a lot.

-That's ok, we had room.



  

                   

It's flying to Belfast Monday...

-I'll probably have to stay longer.



  

                   

My darling!



  

                   

You must be exhausted.

What time is it for you?   a.m.?



  

                   

Gaelle, how are you, dear?

-Fine, thank you.



  

                   

Hello, sir.

-Young man.



  

                   

Do you remember Gaelle?

-Gaelle is unforgettable.



  

                   

How are you?



  

                   

No private rooms?

-I'm lucky I'm not in the hall.



  

                   

I tried, all I got was voice mail.



  

                   

Dad's very sick.

Please get in touch.



  

                   

What I see isn't encouraging.



  

                   

But to be sure I need a PET scan.



  

                   

See if they can do it.

They can send it by satellite.



  

                   

It stands for

Positron Emission Tomography.



  

                   

Sherbrooke has one, but

there's a  -   month waiting list.



  

                   

Isn't he going to Burlington today?

They have one, -



  

                   

but it's expensive.

$     U.S.



  

                   

Money's no problem.

-You're lucky.



  

                   

You never listened to my body.



  

                   

But I'm not laying a guilt.

-Look, I have to get dressed.



  

                   

An ambulance is taking me to Burlington in    minutes.

-No more excuses!



  

                   

For my radiation therapy.

-No!



  

                   

The machines here are too old.

-Stop avoiding me.



  

                   

This is my son, Sebastien,

he's going with me.



  

                   

She's a woman I used to know, long ago.



  

                   

I couldn't face coming alone.



  

                   

You've never been here?

-Never.



  

                   

But you see each other regularly.



  

                   

Always on neutral ground.

Usually in restaurants.



  

                   

Did he come to your place?

-Occasionally.



  

                   

But you never came here.



  

                   

No. This was where he

brought his mistresses.



  

                   

With luck, we'll find some panties.



  

                   

I'm glad Sebastien's going with him today.



  

                   

It's important they talk.



  

                   

"Christmas in the scanner,

Easter   feet under."



  

                   

I have the scan.



  

                   

IT doesen't look good.

Not good at all.



  

                   

We can't be certain,

but the margin of error is almost nil.



  

                   

Is he in a lot of pain?



  

                   

Why don't you bring him here?

At least he wouldn't suffer.



  

                   

We'll make sure of it.



  

                   

I'm sorry, buddy.



  

                   

Baltimore's not far.

  hours by car, an hour by plane.



  

                   

I won't go into EXiLE.

-Wouldn't you like your own room-



  

                   

with a bathroom, CDs?

-What CDs?



  

                   

So you can listen to music.

They have that in civilized countries.



  

                   

Know what that costs?

-Nothing. I'll look after it.



  

                   

I won't know a soul.

-We'll all go tomorrow.



  

                   

No we won't.

I'm not going to the States,



  

                   

I voted for Medicare, I'll accept the consequences.

-Only idiots refuse to change.



  

                   

I want to be with my friends.

-Your friends? Where are they?



  

                   

Dominique's away, but Pierre...



  

                   

You've no one.

Apart from that lunatic this morning.



  

                   

Which lunatic?

-It's irrelevant.



  

                   

The tears, rolling eyes: My Remy!



  

                   

Who's he talking about?

-Marlene Dupire.



  

                   

You didn't sleep with Marlene Dupire?

She's a certified nut, everyone knows!



  

                   

You wrecked your family for her kind?

-I wrecked nothing!



  

                   

You ruined Mom's life,

my adolescence, Sylvaine's...



  

                   

Blaming me for her failure?



  

                   

She loves the sea, she sails the world,

delivering yachts. Beats a  rd-rate university.



  

                   

You may be a millionaire,

but you know nothing!



  

                   

I know I won't end up like you!

She's the reason I'm here.



   

                   

She raised me, not you!



   

                   

Don't you have a plane

to catch to Hong Kong?



   

                   

I don't need you, not for one second!

Go to hell!



   

                   

Fuck you!

-Go to hell!



   

                   

We're returning to London.

-You can't.



   

                   

We offer him the finest hospital,

he refuses.



   

                   

You heard him. He'll never change.



   

                   

You plan to have kids?

-Definitely.



   

                   

Until you're a parent

you'll never understand.



   

                   

He changed your diapers.



   

                   

He called your teachers every month

all through school.



   

                   

He so wanted you to do well.



   

                   

When you had meningitis at age  



   

                   

he rocked you in his arms

for    hours non-stop,



   

                   

without sleep,

to keep death at bay.



   

                   

You can't remember that.



   

                   

What should I do?



   

                   

Find his friends.

Find him a comfortable room.



   

                   

That shouldn't be hard.



   

                   

The Ministry forbids changing hospitals.

Anyway, they'd park him in the hall in Emergency.



   

                   

The floor below is empty?

-  years, now.



   

                   

Could he move there?

-Ice cream with your pie?



   

                   

You can always ask at Administration.

Good luck!



   

                   

I'll leave you now.



   

                   

You're lucky to have such a caring son.

-You think so?



   

                   

How many children come here?



   

                   

Look around! See many children

at their parent's bedside?



   

                   

I'm here every day, so I know.



   

                   

Was your dad hospitalized?

Did he die there?



   

                   

In the end.

-Did you visit him?



   

                   

He lived in Chicoutimi,

I was in Montreal.



   

                   

You came from England?



   

                   

London, Chicoutimi, for you...

same thing? Are you becoming confused?



   

                   

When it's over, press End.

That stops it.



   

                   

It's hard, but if you concentrate,

you'll manage.



   

                   

Hi, Dad!

See, the Pacific Ocean.



   

                   

We sail from Sydney

to New Caledonia,



   

                   

on to Easter Island

and finally Valparaiso.



   

                   

I'm sending you lots of sea air.

They say it's good for your health.



   

                   

I have to go. Satellite connections

cost a fortune.



   

                   

I'm sending you lots and lots of kisses.

Bye for now!



   

                   

Security badge?

-Ms Pelletier? Lloyd's of London.



   

                   

Didn't they give you one?

-No.



   

                   

Last door on the right.

But next time you need a badge.



   

                   

Hello.

Pauline Joncas-Pelletier.



   

                   

Please have a seat.



   

                   

So you're with Lloyd's of London?



   

                   

Not at all, I said that to get in.



   

                   

My father's here.

I'd like to move him to the empty floor.



   

                   

Set up something more comfortable.



   

                   

That's wonderful!



   

                   

It complies with our awareness

programs involving family members.



   

                   

But unfortunately our allocation

of infrastructure is determined



   

                   

by the Ministry's ambulatory thrust.



   

                   

It's absolutely impossible to target our

responses in terms of individual beneficiaries.



   

                   

I'm sure our staff...

-I prepared this file.



   

                   

You must understand, our resource allocation

aims at prioritizing responses



   

                   

according to diagnostic parameters

defined by the Region    consultations.



   

                   

This is silly.

We're not in the Third World.



   

                   

Think it over.



   

                   

Even if we close our eyes,

we'd require union integration.



   

                   

And that is problematic!

-I'll handle them.



   

                   

This file will be updated weekly.

I'll come back tomorrow. Thank you!



   

                   

There's a room on the empty floor.

It'll take   minutes. I just want to show you.



   

                   

I'll be back in  .



   

                   

Sorry, take the next one.



   

                   

I want to set up a room on this floor.

We could...



   

                   

Look, nothing happens

without the union.



   

                   

It starts and ends with the union. Understand?

-I came to you, right?



   

                   

You'd have to paint it,

scrub the floor...



   

                   

Just a sec, man.



   

                   

You're talking overtime, you realize.

And my guys don't. -Paid in cash.



   

                   

Cash?

-Cash. One painter.



   

                   

Two.



   

                   

Six hours.



   

                   

Eight.



   

                   

What's the rate?



   

                   

$  .

-$  .



   

                   

I want a bed, curtains, chairs...

-Look, man, we don't do that.



   

                   

You hire a crew, supervise the work.

And charge me a reasonable fee.



   

                   

Reasonable?

-Let's say   %.



   

                   

Here's $     for starters.

We'll settle up every   days.



   

                   

Where's my laptop?



   

                   

What?

-My computer.



   

                   

On the floor.

-It's not there.



   

                   

It must be.

-Nothing there.



   

                   

The floor, not the locker.

I'm not crazy. -It's not there.



   

                   

Someone must have taken it.



   

                   

Who?

-I don't know.



   

                   

I've had    emails.

How'll I recover them?



   

                   

My entire deal with Norway.

There's no backup.



   

                   

Do you know what I do?

-No. You never told me.



   

                   

Why bother? You never listen!



   

                   

There were, what,      dead.

Historically, that's insignificant.



   

                   

As a U.S. example,



   

                   

      died

at the Battle of Gettysburg.



   

                   

What is significant,

as my old prof said,



   

                   

is they struck at

the heart of the Empire.



   

                   

In previous conflicts- Korea,

Vietnam, the Gulf War



   

                   

the Empire managed to keep the barbarians

outside its gates, its borders



   

                   

In that sense, people may look back on  /  

and I stress may,



   

                   

as the beginning

of the great barbarian invasions.



   

                   

Alain Lussier, thank you.

-My pleasure.



   

                   

Excuse me, my computer was just stolen.

-Oh yeah? Fill out this form.



   

                   

What for?

-It's for the police.



   

                   

Look, I've had all these

since Monday.



   

                   

The police ever investigate?

-No, only when there's physical violence.



   

                   

Last week a woman was raped in the

old laundry room, so they came.



   

                   

Otherwise they'd be here   / .



   

                   

It's easy to rob patients.

They're asleep half the time.



   

                   

And the union protects the employees.



   

                   

There's not much we can do.



   

                   

Ronald?



   

                   

What can I do for you, pal?

-I lost or misplaced my computer.



   

                   

Maybe in my dad's room. So, on the off-chance

someone should find a laptop somewhere...



   

                   

We'll ask around,

but I can't guarantee anything.



   

                   

In case.

-Right, in case. We'll check.



   

                   

Thanks, I appreciate it.



   

                   

Hello? Speaking.



   

                   

Of course I remember you, Sebastien.



   

                   

How are you?



   

                   

Yes, it's been a long time.



   

                   

He's very sick.



   

                   

And he's all alone,

except for my mother.



   

                   

I knew he was in hospital,

but I didn't realize...



   

                   

I almost never come to Montreal, so...



   

                   

Is he still in hospital?



   

                   

Pierre, I need you, now.



   

                   

School's starting, we haven't found

a daycare, the kids are sick...



   

                   

That's life. Always the same.



   

                   

I'll try to get a flight.



   

                   

You say that because times

are so terrible.



   

                   

Not especially terrible. Not at all.



   

                   

Contrary to belief,

the   th centaury wasn't that bloody.



   

                   

It's agreed that wars

caused     million deaths.



   

                   

Add    million

for the Russian gulags.



   

                   

The Chinese camps, we'll never know,

but say    million.



   

                   

So         million dead.

Not all that impressive.



   

                   

In the   th centuary,

the Spanish and the Portuguese managed,



   

                   

without gas chambers or bombs, to slaughter

    million Indians in Latin America.



   

                   

With axes!

That's a lot of work, Sister.



   

                   

Even if they had Church support,

it was an achievement



   

                   

So much so that the Dutch, English,

French and later Americans



   

                   

followed their lead

and butchered another    million.



   

                   

    million dead in all!



   

                   

The greatest massacre in history

took place right here.



   

                   

And not the tiniest

Holocaust museum.



   

                   

The history of mankind

is a history of horrors!



   

                   

They had a trial program with heroin.



   

                   

See if it still exists.



   

                   

Heroin's    % more effective

than morphine.



   

                   

It makes a huge difference.

-Ok, thanks.



   

                   

Get some rest.

-I will, good night.



   

                   

Are you pals with the Premier,

or a hockey star?



   

                   

His son takes care of him.

-I know. And dumbo won't thank him.



   

                   

My son is an ambitious

and puritanical capitalist.



   

                   

Whereas I was always a sensual socialist.

-Sensual isn't half of it, Sister.



   

                   

Lewd!- Debauched! -Bestial!

-Lascivious! -Perverse!



   

                   

How are you, you lusty sinner?

-Better!



   

                   

Give me a kiss, you randy snake!



   

                   

You're back?

-Yesterday?



   

                   

And Alaska?

-Lovely and cold, like me!



   

                   

You see, Sister? My exquisite daughter-in-law, my

heroic wife, and two most charming mistresses.



   

                   

I can die in peace.

-You'll burn in the flames of hell.



   

                   

And I won't be alone. They're safe, but given the

depravity of these two, they'll roast alongside me.



   

                   

Whereas you'll play the harp on a cloud



   

                   

for eternity, seated between John Paul II,

a surly Pole, and Mother Theresa, a slimy Albanian



   

                   

His illness has affected his brain.



   

                   

No, it's an ethnological truth,

Louise.



   

                   

Albanians are often slimy

and Poles are always surly.



   

                   

"for the misfortunes of Poland

are proof of God's existence!"



   

                   

Hello. I'd like to meet someone, a police

officer or detective in the narcotics squad.



   

                   

Have a seat.



   

                   

Come stai, you big pig?

-What are you doing here, old queer?



   

                   

This is Alessandro.



   

                   

We've heard all about you.



   

                   

Gilles Levac.

My partner, Kim Delgado.



   

                   

Have a seat.

-Thanks.



   

                   

My father's hospitalized here

in Montreal.



   

                   

He gets rotten care, of course,

and he's in pain.



   

                   

A doctor friend suggested

I get him some heroin.



   

                   

I know little about drugs.

As a student I smoked pot.



   

                   

Drugs are sold in every city,

and the police know where.



   

                   

I hoped, perhaps naively, you could recommend some

spots where I can find high-quality heroin.



   

                   

That's fascinating, except that...



   

                   

our job is to arrest dealers,

not help prospective buyers.



   

                   

think of me as a smart guy

trying to save time.



   

                   

Think of me as someone not too dumb

who doesen't want to read a headline:



   

                   

"Police Help Our Journalist

to Buy Narcotics."



   

                   

I'm no... -She and I don't want to end

our days directing traffic in Chibougamau.



   

                   

I swear I'm not a reporter.

-Why should I believe you?



   

                   

I'm a market operator with MacDougall Deutsch.

It's easy to check.



   

                   

It's easy to print phony cards.



   

                   

Sorry to disturb you.



   

                   

I'll have to try the discos.



   

                   

Look, the Citrouillard family!



   

                   

Claude, I don't believe it!

How are you?



   

                   

Heroin used to be for the rich.

Now prices have dropped and that's changed.



   

                   

But traditionally it's the

drug of musicians and poets...



   

                   

You mean, ask my friends?

-I don't mean anything.



   

                   

I'm repeating rumors circulated in the media.

-Ok.



   

                   

What exactly do you do?



   

                   

My dear, I'm the director of the

Canadian University Institute of Rome.



   

                   

What exactly does it do,

the Canadian University Institute of Rome?



   

                   

In fact we're a leading cultural agency that

assists Canadian university students in Rome.



   

                   

And how many Canadian university

students are there in Rome?



   

                   

In fact, a few.



   

                   

Why do you ask?



   

                   

We like to know how our taxes

are being squandered.



   

                   

We're a very modest operation. Naturally

the director requires paid housing...



   

                   

...where you're always welcome,

of course.



   

                   

You haven't been hit by cutbacks?

-Quite impossible.



   

                   

The Institute is buried in the budgetary

quagmire of Foreign Affairs.



   

                   

The Minister himself

has no inkling we exist.



   

                   

Who should I have slept with

to get that job?



   

                   

I'm afraid that people I slept with

would've been blind to your charms,



   

                   

however abundant they are.



   

                   

Abundance has it fans, dearie.

-Not in Foreign Affairs.



   

                   

This it?



   

                   

Someone found it somewhere?

-That's it.



   

                   

I have to get heroin for him.

I need someone with contacts.



   

                   

I've been away too long.



   

                   

The only poweder I sniff now

is Baby's Own.



   

                   

I could try to ask my daughter.

Remember Nathalie? -Yes, a little.



   

                   

I can't promise anything.

I rarely hear from her.



   

                   

Hi, sweetheart.

It's mom. It's Diane.



   

                   

I miss you, sweetheart.



   

                   

Look,

remember Sebastien, Remy's son?



   

                   

You often played together as kids.



   

                   

He wants to meet.

He needs some information.



   

                   

So call whenever you like,

at any time.



   

                   

If you prefer not to talk to me,

I'll leave you his number.



   

                   

We have to hit Costco before  .

We need a shitload of diapers.



   

                   

Children cost so much.



   

                   

Why do people in the Third World

have so many?



   

                   

What a dumb thing to say.

-Your poor students, if you teach such crap!



   

                   

Did you get that book I mentioned?

-Which one?



   

                   

Inner Healing by Swami Rapudanthra.



   

                   

No, unfortunately not.

-I'll bring it. Your body's in your head.



   

                   

Illness starts and ends in the head.

I keep telling Pierre that.



   

                   

Well, we'll be going.

-See you soon.



   

                   

How old is she? It's not about age.

Her breasts outweigh her brain.



   

                   

Cut it out.

-It's true! The quantity of blood they require



   

                   

drains the brain. It's physiological.

-No wisecracks.



   

                   

She's given me two girls

who've transformed my life.



   

                   

And a mere brush of her hand

makes me as hard as a bull.



   

                   

Which you'll agree

is a godsend at our age.



   

                   

Nathalie?



   

                   

I didn't recognize you. Come.



   

                   

Do you work full-time?



   

                   

What do you do?

-Proofreader.



   

                   

For a publishing company?



   

                   

Boreal Press.

-So your hours are flexible.



   

                   

My proposal is that

I pay for your supplies,



   

                   

as well as my father's.



   

                   

Want brown or white?

-I've no idea.



   

                   

To smoke or shoot up?

-I trust you.



   

                   

You shouldn't.

-Why not?



   

                   

You should never trust a junkie.



   

                   

They make a habit of lying.



   

                   

It's right there.



   

                   

How much?

-$   .



   

                   

It's pretty chilly, huh?



   

                   

That girl's innocent.

She's doing me a favor.



   

                   

Arrest me, but forget her.

-Arrest you?



   

                   

Think I'm a fool?

-Not at all.



   

                   

You located Olivier in two days.

Nice going.



   

                   

Olivier?

-The dealer.



   

                   

Why not arrest him?

-Want me to arrest everyone?



   

                   

Recognize him?

-He's Michel Richer, the biologist.



   

                   

You never bust suppliers?



   

                   

All the time. We work    years,

bust an Iranian gang.



   

                   

And then Iraqis took their place.



   

                   

Or the Lebanese, Turks, Italians.



   

                   

There's too much demand.

It's an invasion.



   

                   

What are you doing here?

I mean, now?



   

                   

My job.

-I see.



   

                   

Keeping the peace.



   

                   

The fish are biting

in Zampino's pond.



   

                   

Time to go fishing.



   

                   

What did you study?



   

                   

Why do you ask?

-Curious.



   

                   

criminology, minor in psych.

You?



   

                   

Mathematics, minor in economics.



   

                   

Take care.

-You too.



   

                   

You don't remember me?

-No.



   

                   

I was close to your mom.



   

                   

You mean you slept with her?

-Not just that.



   

                   

Were you married?

-Yes.



   

                   

The married ones

never stayed till morning.



   

                   

I'd see them if I woke up at night.



   

                   

From a child's perspective,

it must seem sordid.



   

                   

We called it

sexual liberation.



   

                   

What's that?

-Heroin.



   

                   

It comes from opium, right?



   

                   

It's morphine mixed with chemicals.



   

                   

Will you inject it?

-We'll start inhaling and then see.



   

                   

It's incredible to...



   

                   

Be quiet now. Try to concentrate.



   

                   

The first time is the best.

It's the one you long for.



   

                   

It's called riding the dragon.



   

                   

Morning.

-Good morning.



   

                   

It smells. Have you been smoking?

-Not on your life. I light a candle and meditate.



   

                   

Where's your IV?

-Dr Levesque had it removed.



   

                   

Good morning, my doctresses.



   

                   

Take a deep breath.



   

                   

Does it hurt here?

-Oh, yes.



   

                   

And here too?

-There too, yes.



   

                   

Is it unbearable?

-Goodness, no!



   

                   

You're in high spirits.

-Couldn't be higher!



   

                   

How do you sleep?

-Like a baby.



   

                   

Then I won't prescribe painkillers.



   

                   

Forget it!

-That's wonderful.



   

                   

I always say, the longer

they stay lucid, the better.



   

                   

I plan to remain lucid till I die.



   

                   

Wonderful, Mr Paranteau.

-Thanks so much, Dr. Dube.



   

                   

I'm not Dr. Dube.

-How fitting, because I'm not Mr. Parenteau.



   

                   

Who's he?



   

                   

So it all started

with Maria Goretti.



   

                   

Exactly. The girl who said, No!

-Which one was Maria Goretti?



   

                   

A Portuguese peasant.

-Portuguese? Santa Maria Goretti!



   

                   

She was Italian?

-From Nettuno.



   

                   

Portugal, that's Fatima, the apparitions,

the Virgin, the shepherds.



   

                   

The secret of Fatima.

-Which only the Pobe could hear.



   

                   

Poor Canada, in     .

-Look, we believed it.



   

                   

So they filmed the edifying life

of Maria Goretti.



   

                   

Starring?

-I've racked my brains.



   

                   

Ines Orsini.



   

                   

Of course! The Immortal Ines Orisini!

How could I forget?



   

                   

I saw it at school in Padua with the Jesuits.

-Me, the Jesuits at Brebeuf.



   

                   

Me, at the Chicoutimi seminary.



   

                   

For the whole film the

immortal Ines Orsini



   

                   

is covered from head to toe.



   

                   

But at some point they had to at least suggest

the abject nature of the bestial desire



   

                   

of the vile rapist.



   

                   

So the exquisite Maria dips

her adorable toes into the ocean.



   

                   

With a regal but modest gesture,

she lifts her skirt...



   

                   

The thighs of Ines Orsini!

-Even I remember!



   

                   

Oh, the rivers of sperm I spilled

dreaming of her thighs.



   

                   

So that explains the rise in the level

of the St. Lawrence River.



   

                   

For years I'd fall asleep with

a hard-on, dreaming of Ines Orsini,



   

                   

until the day I saw Francoise Hardy

on TV singing All the Boys and Girls.



   

                   

I was suddenly indifferent to Ines's holy airs.

-Maria Goretti, alone,



   

                   

abandoned - the fate of womanhood



   

                   

For a long time I slept with

Francoise Hardy. We were very happy.



   

                   

Alas, I discovered Julie Christie in a film.

Our mad affair lasted six months,



   

                   

till I met Chris Evert,

the tennis champ,



   

                   

whom I left for the sublime Karen Kain



   

                   

dancing carmen in Marseille.



   

                   

All my life I went to bed

with the world's most gorgeous women.



   

                   

Then one morning I awoke realizing

I'd fallen asleep dreaming of the Caribbean.



   

                   

I'd grown old.

Women had deserted my dreams.



   

                   

It's been so long

since I dreamed of a man.



   

                   

Just what is it you do?



   

                   

You're president of a Norwegian oil firm.



   

                   

You've bought a North Sea oil field

from a failing U.S. company.



   

                   

You can produce oil for $  per barrel,

and you sell for $  .



   

                   

But you want to limit your exposure

to fluctuating oil prices. How?



   

                   

No idea.

-You see me, we do a swap.



   

                   

What's that?

-A deal where my bank pays you



   

                   

a set price

and you pay the floating price.



   

                   

You contract to sell your oil at a set

price for a set period. In short,



   

                   

I manage financial risk.



   

                   

Are you good at what you do?



   

                   

Pretty good.



   

                   

Could you get the driver

to stop at the lake?



   

                   

Probably.



   

                   

I'd like to see it again.



   

                   

At Berkley I did my PhD alongside Locken and

Donaldson, two future Pulitzers.



   

                   

They were no better than me,

but they were American.



   

                   

Me, I came back here, I started

to teach, got married,



   

                   

And then... then nothing.



   

                   

Your women kept you too busy.

-That was small time, like you said.



   

                   

No, what I lacked was extravagance.



   

                   

I went in for pathetic trysts

in poorly heated East End flats.



   

                   

I was replaced by a TA within    hours.

The dean neglected to say goodbye.



   

                   

The lowliest secretary

gets a cake for maternity leave.



   

                   

Ladies and gentlemen, for health reasons

I'll be unable to complete this term.



   

                   

Ms Raphaelle Metellus

will replace me.



   

                   

Does this affect our deadlines?



   

                   

No, deadlines and exam dates

remain unchanged.



   

                   

Any other questions?



   

                   

Good luck.

-Thanks.



   

                   

So, as you saw last week, the     

election was particularly stormy.



   

                   

The Whig party,



   

                   

then newly formed, united four

distinct constituencies



   

                   

First, the National Republicans, followers of

Adams and Clay, the party founders.



   

                   

Irina's home, I have to go out.



   

                   

Is Nathalie buying for you?



   

                   

She's a friend.



   

                   

If you're a regular,

maybe we should deal directly.



   

                   

It's only temporary.



   

                   

Everything in life is temporary.



   

                   

"you can never swim

in the same river twice," said...



   

                   

what's his face? You know...



   

                   

You can't count on Nathalie.

She'll pull a fast one on you.



   

                   

We'll see.



   

                   

You know where I live.

-Sure.



   

                   

What are you doing?

-I was waiting for you.



   

                   

You're always on my mind.

-I know, you've told me.



   

                   

At night I picture you bleeding

in an alley, in shooting galleries.



   

                   

I'm always so scared.

It's unbearable.



   

                   

You imagine too much.



   

                   

You know this can't go on.



   

                   

Of course I know.

I know it better than you.



   

                   

I know it's my fault,

that's what's killing me.



   

                   

That doesn't change anything.

I don't need this.



   

                   

You don't care much

about living, do you?



   

                   

Not really.



   

                   

I was like you at your age. Ready to

die at any time. I didn't care.



   

                   

That's why the young people

make the best martyrs.



   

                   

It's paradoxical,

but living grows on you,



   

                   

when you begin to subtract:

I've got    years left,      .



   

                   

When you realize it's for the last time.



   

                   

I'm buying my last car.



   

                   

This is my last trip

to Genoa, Barcelona...



   

                   

I won't live that long.

-How do you know?



   

                   

Overdoses are pretty frequent.



   

                   

But you can never tell. Maybe you'll

kick it and reach a ripe old age.



   

                   

We can't decipher the past,

how can we know the future?



   

                   

No one ever knows what'll happen to them.



   

                   

Except me, now. I know.



   

                   

Are you scared? -Sure am. I don't want to

stop living. I loved life so much.



   

                   

What was it you loved?

-Everything.



   

                   

Wine, books, music, women,

above all women.



   

                   

Their smell, their mouths,

the feel of their skin.



   

                   

Were there many of them?

-Yes.



   

                   

Don't they begin to seem the same?

-A bit, yes.



   

                   

But I never get tired of them.



   

                   

Still the great seducer? -No, not anymore.

With age, it's not the same thing.



   

                   

Do you still enjoy wine?



   

                   

Unfortunately  not.

Not with my liver.



   

                   

The trips you dreamed of,

did you make them?



   

                   

Nowadays there are tourists everywhere.



   

                   

It's not the present you cling on,

It's your past life.



   

                   

That life is already dead.

-Perhaps.



   

                   

I expected a musty antique dealer,

not a ravishing young lady.



   

                   

I warn you, I'm no specialist.



   

                   

At one time

everyone here was Catholic.



   

                   

Like in Spain or Ireland.



   

                   

At a very precise moment in      in fact the

churches suddenly emptied out, in a few months.



   

                   

A very strange phenomenon

that has yet to be explained.



   

                   

So now we don't know

what to do with this.



   

                   

The authorities would like to find

out if it has any value.



   

                   

Commercial value?

-Yes.



   

                   

Do you have any   th-centuary

French cahlices?



   

                   

The Americans snapped them up.

There are a few examples in the museums.



   

                   

I'm sure this has great value

for people here, the collective memory.



   

                   

But is there anything that we could sell?

-On the world market?



   

                   

Honestly, I can't imagine it.



   

                   

In other words,

this is all absolutely worthless.



   

                   

I'll show you out.



   

                   

Pius XII sitting on his ass

in his gilded Vatican



   

                   

while Primo Levi was taken

to Auschwitz... That's not sad!



   

                   

It's despicable! Hideous!



   

                   

If what you say true, and history

is a series of abominable crimes,



   

                   

then someone has to exist

who can forgive us.



   

                   

That's my belief.



   

                   

I envy you.



   

                   

If at least I'd written.



   

                   

You wrote nothing?

-A few papers here and there, nothing serious.



   

                   

What are you doing?



   

                   

What are you doing?

-It bugs me.



   

                   

What would you have written?



   

                   

The Gulag Archipelago,

The Periodic Table.



   

                   

Really, in that class?

-Never. -So?



   

                   

At least I'd have left a mark. We need to

succeed, even on our own terms.



   

                   

To be a able to say we did our best.

It allows us to die at peace.



   

                   

I'm a total failure.

-At least you realize it.



   

                   

So many professors are smug,

unbearable.



   

                   

I don't know your daughter,

but Sebastien's not exactly a failure.



   

                   

Not thanks to me.

-You don't know that.



   

                   

We thought we'd pay a visit.

-Everyone wonders how you are.



   

                   

Not everyone, surely.

-You'd be surprised.



   

                   

That last day in class

no one seemed very moved.



   

                   

We had no idea at the time.

-Exactly. Now that you're gone...



   

                   

We see what we're missing.



   

                   

I'm touched to hear that. Sincerely.



   

                   

We should be going.



   

                   

We have a lecture by Mr Roby at  .

-Off you go.



   

                   

Good luck.

-Thanks.



   

                   

-Don't give up.

-I won't.



   

                   

Well I never.

-Surprising.



   

                   

For illiterates, they're sweet.



   

                   

It's not their fault.

No one taught them.



   

                   

At this price we'll come anytime.

-We'll see.



   

                   

I don't want it.



   

                   

We agreed.

-No, thanks.



   

                   

Do you want to split hers?



   

                   

We're getting married next summer,

at my parents' in France.



   

                   

You'll see, the chapel's lovely.



   

                   

Louise and I married on



   

                   

a grey February day in a dismal suburb.



   

                   

So we could sleep together

without our families hassling us.



   

                   

I want a wedding on the Loire.



   

                   

  months later I cheated on her.



   

                   

That was fast.

-Indeed.



   

                   

When I met Sebastien, I said: With him

it's forever, there'll be no one else.



   

                   

I hope it lasts, for your sake.



   

                   

Because, you know, love...

-No, no, no! Not "love."



   

                   

Mom and Dad

talked like that. "Love."



   

                   

I love you. I love you too much.

I don't love you.



   

                   

You can't build a life

on pop-song philosophy.



   

                   

Love Me Tender. Love, Love Me Not.

It's ridiculous.



   

                   

My parents divorced when I was  .



   

                   

For several years Dad continued

to come over for Sunday lunch.



   

                   

Half an hour before he left,

I'd vanish.



   

                   

I'd be lying on the ground in front

of his car so he couldn't leave.



   

                   

My kids won't go through that.



   

                   

So now my nocturnal pleasures are provided by

my giant-screen Toshiba at the foot of my bed.



   

                   

No more curled-up toes?



   

                   

That's over. I've seen enough ceilings.

Ei. Olen katsellut kattoa

-For ever?



   

                   

I've closed the store, laid down my arms,

hung up my skates.



   

                   

Things are much quieter between us too.

-Well, well.



   

                   

He's in Bologna all week

and I'm in Rome.



   

                   

There's the weekend, but...



   

                   

My wife falls asleep in bed

with the kids.



   

                   

Great, you can reread Tocqueville.



   

                   

That's what I did.

     pages on bible paper.



   

                   

He's increasingly cultivated,

and his prostate increasingly swollen.



   

                   

Sorry, I still enjoy it a lot.



   

                   

In the country

there's an old cowboy I...



   

                   

Cowboy? You're with a cowboy now?



   

                   

Yes. There's an old cowboy

I invite over to shake my bush.



   

                   

To shae your bush!

-Yes, but we had a fight.



   

                   

I'll never understand men.

All my life I date cads



   

                   

who thought only of escaping

after satisfying their base needs.



   

                   

The other day, as a compliment,

I said to my cowboy:



   

                   

To think we can still have sexual flings at our age.

He was incensed. He doesn't want to be a sex object,



   

                   

talks about his masculinity.

-We love that!



   

                   

Invokes father hunger goes on about exploring

his feminine side, his inner me.



   

                   

It was unbearable.



   

                   

The last thing I want is

a limp-dicked sentimentalist.



   

                   

I want to be screwed forcefully.

That's all.



   

                   

I'm sensitive

and smart enough for two.



   

                   

A rub-down?



   

                   

Would he like a rub-down? Does the

Muslim need to bow towards Mecca?



   

                   

Does the Carmelite

long for the Holy Species?



   

                   

Is this your first time here?

-Yes...



   

                   

I don't know if you believe

in random acts of kindness,



   

                   

but if you do,

render this sick man happy.



   

                   

Give him the mother

of all rub-downs.



   

                   

You will be repaid a hundredfold

in this life or another.



   

                   

Am I in heaven already?



   

                   

Are you my Valkyrie, my houri?



   

                   

Oh joy!



   

                   

Nathalie didn't show.



   

                   

It's bad.

Your father's in withdrawal.



   

                   

Know where Nathalie is?

-No idea.



   

                   

She's disappeared.

-I warned you.



   

                   

I may come back.

-Before   .



   

                   

I'm not supposed to do this.



   

                   

You were right.

You said not to trust you.



   

                   

Your dealer said that too.



   

                   

Wake up. We've a contract.



   

                   

What contract?

-I buy the dope, you look after Dad.



   

                   

What's with him?

-He's waiting.



   

                   

We're coming.



   

                   

You honor a contract!



   

                   

That's heavy, man.

-We had a deal. I'm counting on you.



   

                   

At the market... my dad...

Y'know, my dad...



   

                   

Want to trade dads?

Me, I made my life.



   

                   

Perfect young man.



   

                   

Perfect career.



   

                   

Perfect fiancee.



   

                   

I'm imperfect. It's sad.

It's very sad.



   

                   

Where have you been?

I didn't know what to do.



   

                   

Get a spoon.

-What?



   

                   

A spoon.



   

                   

Fill it to thirty.



   

                   

I can't manage.



   

                   

What is this?

-Don't ask, we don't have time.



   

                   

You have to help. I beg you. Give him this.

He needs it. Please, I'll explain later.



   

                   

What's in it?

-Heroin.



   

                   

I beg you.



   

                   

Shut the door, at least.

-I'm going.



   

                   

Just this once.

-It'll soon be over.



   

                   

Better?



   

                   

We sat on your pier. He was never

happier than at the lake.



   

                   

So could we borrow the cottage?

-Of course, I'll get the key.



   

                   

What is it?

-The keys to the cottage.



   

                   

What for? -I'm letting Sebastien use it.

He wants to take Remy.



   

                   

Without asking me?

-I'm truly sorry.



   

                   

I'm the one who decorated it.

-That's true.



   

                   

The hours at Ikea,

don't they count.



   

                   

Or the curtains I sewed? You lend our

house to strangers without asking!



   

                   

Remy's not a stranger.



   

                   

That's why Nicole

divorced Tom Cruise!



   

                   

He'd lend their Colorado home

to anybody.



   

                   

I'm lending my house

to my friend Reamy, and you shut up.



   

                   

If that's how it is, I won't stay another

second. I'm taking the girls and moving out.



   

                   

I'm sorry. Forget it, we'll manage.



   

                   

No way. Use it whenever you like.



   

                   

Don't worry. It's always this way.

That's life. -Thanks.



   

                   

No news from Sylvaine?



   

                   

No, I even called

the boat's owned in Chile.



   

                   

I hope she's ok.

-She is, it's just the Net uplink.



   

                   

The Pacific's big.



   

                   

Goodbye.



   

                   

Embrace the mystery

and you'll be saved.



   

                   

Say you love him.



   

                   

Tell him, and touch him.



   

                   

Drink this one.

-Right now?



   

                   

Here. Methadone's serious.



   

                   

Now I trust you.

-Drink one a day.



   

                   

Only one. No more, no less.

Come back on Monday.



   

                   

If you screw up,

you're out of the program.



   

                   

I still can't come to terms with it.

-You know you have to.



   

                   

I can't accept it.



   

                   

That's how it is. It's a law.



   

                   

The very instant you shut your eyes,



   

                   

millions more will also die.



   

                   

But I won't be here anymore. Me.

I'll be gone for good.



   

                   

If at least I'd learned something.



   

                   

I feel as helpless

as the day I was born.



   

                   

I haven't found a meaning. It's



   

                   

I have to search.



   

                   

I have to keep searching.



   

                   

We've been everything.



   

                   

Separatists, independantists,

sovereignists, sovereignty-associationists.



   

                   

At first we were existentialists.



   

                   

We read Sartre and Camus.



   

                   

Then Fanon,

we became anti-colonialists.



   

                   

We read Marcuse and became Marxists.

-Marxist-Leninists.



   

                   

Trotskyists.

-Maoists.



   

                   

After Solzhenitsyn we changed.

We were structuralists.



   

                   

Situationists.

-Feminists.



   

                   

Demonstructionists.

-Is there an "ism" we haven't worshipped.



   

                   

Cretinism.

-God no. Think of Guo Jing.



   

                   

Who was he? -An archeologist

with a skirt slit to the crotch.



   

                   

Even you remember. -In the   s,

China opens up to the West.



   

                   

She comes on a cultural exchange. The

university sends its trusty radical, me...



   

                   

I enter the dining room of her hotel.

I spot her, and die.



   

                   

Beauty that could melt Emperor Qin's

     terra cotta warriors.



   

                   

I order tea, we make small talk.



   

                   

I can see us doing Pekinese lotus.

-The Szechuan dragon.



   

                   

To make myself appear intresting,



   

                   

I dive in: "Your country has achieved so much.



   

                   

We're so envious. Your

Cultural Revolution is wonderful!"



   

                   

Her lovely black eyes glaze over.



   

                   

I'm mortified to realize

that she's thinking,



   

                   

"He's either a CIA agent

or the worst cretin in the West."



   

                   

So much for the lotus and dragon.



   

                   

For two years she'd cleaned pigsties

on a re-education farm.



   

                   

Father murdered,

mother committed suicide.



   

                   

And some dumb French-Canadian who's

seen the films of Jean-Luc Godard



   

                   

and read Philippe Sollers



   

                   

says that the Chinese

Cultural Revolution, is wonderful!



   

                   

Cretinism doesn’t  sink any lower.



   

                   

Voluntary simplicity.



   

                   

Scrambled eggs with ossetra caviar

and fresh truffles. -From Tuscany.



   

                   

And to stay in Italy, Castello Banfi Excelsus,

a modest vintage.



   

                   

Why were we so dumb?

-Are we to infer congenital stupidity?



   

                   

Not at all.

-Intelligence isn't an individual trait.



   

                   

It's collective,

national, intermittent.



   

                   

Oh, a new theory!



   

                   

Athens,    BC

Euripides premieres his Electra



   

                   

Two rivals attend,

Sophocles and Aristophanes.



   

                   

And two friends, Socrates and Plato.

Intelligence was there.



   

                   

Firenze,      Palazzo Vecchio,



   

                   

on facing walls, two painters:

Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo.



   

                   

An apprentice: Rafaello.

A manager: Niccolo Machiavelli.



   

                   

Philadelphia, USA,      -     .



   

                   

Declaration of Independence

and the Constitution.



   

                   

Adams, Franklin, Jefferson,

Washington, Hamilton and Madison.



   

                   

No other country

has been so blessed.



   

                   

I was born in Chicoutimi,

Canada, in     .



   

                   

It's a miracle you're not dumber.



   

                   

in      everyone was dumb,

in Athens and Chicoutimi.



   

                   

In Italy you'd have supported

the Red Brigades.



   

                   

Now it's Berlusconi.

-Philadelphia voted George Bush.



   

                   

You see, you're not that dumb.



   

                   

Intelligence has disappeared,

and it can take eons to come back.



   

                   

From Tacitus to Dante was what,

   centuries?



   

                   

The Arabs kept intelligence alive.

-True.



   

                   

You're not hungry?



   

                   

It won't go down.

-And you? -No thanks.



   

                   

I never thought I'd see the day

you'd turn down fresh truffles.



   

                   

Alas, that day is here.



   

                   

A sip of wine?



   

                   

Drink to my health

and tell me how good it is.



   

                   

I'd like to bow out

just like Felix Faure.



   

                   

Why am I not surprised?



   

                   

I can dream.

-Who was he? Why?



   

                   

Oh blessed Felix Faure, the

President of the French Republic.



   

                   

His heart stopped beating,



   

                   

while his mistress the admirable

Madame Steinheil, kneeling before him,



   

                   

bestowed on him the most

glorious blowjob of all time.



   

                   

My god!

-His enemies gloated:



   

                   

"She seized him, the would-be

Caesar and he had a seizure!"



   

                   

Henceforth Madame Steinheil

was known as the kiss of death.



   

                   

I should be so lucky!



   

                   

It's not our fault

if your heart is unstoppable.



   

                   

I'd like to remind you that at a certain time,

I and several others here



   

                   

blew you most heartily,

with enough force to capsize a schooner.



   

                   

What do you know

about blowing buoys?



   

                   

Well, sir, our efforts

earned gushing praise.



   

                   

Heavens, that's hard to swallow.



   

                   

I'm beat.

-Go to bed.



   

                   

Aren't you coming?

-Not tonight.



   

                   

The Middle Ages, the manuscripts...



   

                   

The barbarians,

everywhere, tomorrow...



   

                   

Their prince approaches.



   

                   

Are you trying to be funny?



   

                   

I'm scared.



   

                   

We'll do what you want.

It's your decision.



   

                   

Know what I want for you?



   

                   

To have as fine a son as you.



   

                   

Heard from Sylvaine?

-No.



   

                   

Tell her I thought of her.



   

                   

I love you.



   

                   

Not so long ago

I'd have jumped you without asking.



   

                   

I might have let you.

-I suspected as much.



   

                   

I wasn't here today. You didn't see me.

-Of course.



   

                   

This just came in.



   

                   

On a ship,

you call it the evil eye...



   

                   

Striking a growler - an iceberg -



   

                   

at night,

or a fire from an oil leak...



   

                   

It's been too long

since I've seen you.



   

                   

My Daddy, my Papuschka,



   

                   

I've have missed you all my life.



   

                   

Tell yourself I'm a happy woman,

I've found my place.



   

                   

I don't know how you did it, but

you managed to pass on your lust for life



   

                   

You and Mom raised incredibly strong

children. It's a miracle really



   

                   

You know, the first man in a

woman's life is her father.



   

                   

You'll always be with me.



   

                   

Friends, sharing this modest life

with you has been a delight.



   

                   

I take your smiles with me.



   

                   

Remy, Remy...



   

                   

The man of my life.



   

                   

My guardian angel.



   

                   

It's a privilege to know you.



   

                   

The privilege was all mine, Miss.



   

                   

Mom doesn't want to live here.



   

                   

I don't need to sell it.

You can move in for now.



   

                   

IF THIS BE A MAN



   

                   

HISTORIA AND UTOPIA



   

                   

I love you.







 
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