Almost Peaceful

ALMOST PEACEFUL:

Betty!

I'll come and say goodbye.

Don't miss the train.

And eat well there!

Put some weight on.

They must be here for the ad.

Let's go!

See you later!

Your children?

A full family... That's nice.

Maurice Abramowicz.

For the Mechanic's job.

Me too. I'm Joseph.

Very good.

Forty minutes...

You'll do fine.

I leave everyone standing.

Jacqueline...

Leon Frydman's wife.

Leon...

Andree Lambert.

Charles Grynstam.

Monsieur Albert.

Welcome...

Maurice Abramauschwitz!

I don't understand...

The French may not know

but here at the workshop, surely...

You all know...

I don't understand.

You can't understand.

Simply because you're not Jewish.

But don't lose heart...

Stay with us

and Maybe you'll manage it.

Too late...

The job's gone?

- Maybe next time?

- Maybe.

Put it here to see.

Even if you're not finished.

You know, Joseph...

That's your name right?

Women button their clothes

on the right,

whatever the season.

Can we mend it?

Ever worked in tailoring?

Yes.

- How old are you?

- Nineteen.

Yes, but can you do anything?

I passed my exams.

Fine, but do piping, braid,

trim and bias binding ring a bell?

Boss, tell them.

Maurice and Joseph don't know.

Piping, buttonhole, button loop,

press-stud or rayon

percaline, interfacing

were all passwords.

Monsieur Albert

spent the whole war

hidden in a room above

a tailor's shop on Rue de Sevres.

He'd bring up work and food for me.

We'd change passwords every day,

using words from the trade.

Whenever he heard someone coming up,

he'd grab his scissors

and go like this...

That was Madame Sarah.

Madame Sarah, come back up,

it's all right!

No, stay there, don't bother.

My wife's not in.

She just got back, Monsieur Albert.

Tomorrow at eight. Mechanic,

Yes, that's fine.

Assistant-mechanic, 25 francs.

Perfect, thank you.

See you tomorrow!

You think it's funny

to threaten her?

I was just telling my story...

Again! It's over now.

Can't you change your tune?

Pretty...

For a dressing gown...

Yes, it would be pretty.

It would be nice

if you could make me one.

This one's had it.

It's been in the war.

Exactly.

We're all alone...

Take it off for me.

You're back in the neighborhood...

Mr. Grynstam has taken a room near

his apartment to keep a watch out

if his wife and daughters

return from the camps.

Sign the lease, please.

I'd like a receipt

for payment of the rent

while Mr. Grynstam was in the camps.

I'll be out of pocket.

I have refund my former tenants.

They meant no harm.

You wouldn't have been back sooner

if it had been empty.

That's all settled.

I prefer that.

If it's too big for you,

let me know.

I have some nice

two-room apartments.

Have you got them?

Good.

It's only right!

I'm taking the jacket to Wasserman.

See you later.

Or tomorrow, maybe.

He's sent me away twice now.

What? With your magic touch?

Maybe I have a magic touch

but Wasserman hands out the work.

It hangs poorly.

Don't say that. It hangs well.

Look at the stitching.

I know from experience

this is the off-season.

But if there's no work,

just tell me so.

Don't keep stringing me along

till autumn.

It just doesn't hang well.

It doesn't hang well?

How does it hang now?

My model!

Dear father and mother,

There are lots of us staying here.

I've made new friends.

I get on well

with one called Georges.

The children? Everything okay?

Let me see.

I haven't finished!

We eat in the castle

and the food's very good.

They keep us occupied all day.

Here, we're even kept occupied

peeling vegetables.

There's a work studio too

where I did this drawing for you.

My son's an artist.

- Is artist a good job?

- Does it look like me?

We have to write once a week,

unless we have no one to write to,

like Georges.

Georges has an obsession with lists.

Lists of films.

He asks people what they've seen

and writes down the titles.

He starts over and over

to get them in alphabetical order.

That's new!

Beautiful...

Raphael send his love.

Has Betty written?

"Lots of love. Betty."

I'll send them a cake.

Two cakes, in fact.

The children pool their parcels

and then divide everything up.

There's not enough work for three.

Hello, Sarah.

I knew old Sarah would be back.

I'm sorry about the other day...

That's all right.

Some tea?

I was going to make some.

Do you know her?

By sight.

She visits all workshops.

You didn't know her husband.

Every day, he'd open the synagogue

on rue des Rosiers,

with his caftan and beard.

She'd say, "Better a beardless Jew

than a Jewless beard."

It all ended in a camp.

I'll take some more soap.

Me too, the iris scented one,

it was lovely.

Your list of marriageable people

smells of soap.

Was it better when soap

smelled of marriageable people?

I have girls... who have never let

a man approach them.

And some very decent women

who are single and free.

Keep your cards.

Look at the photos, Charles.

Do it for my sake.

We have to marry for your sake?

That's new!

You make money from your soap.

Matchmaking is good

but It's not a breadwinner.

You can't trade in happiness.

Being alone isn't good, Charles.

Don't talk to me

about marriage again!

You hear me? Never again!

Some more tea?

No, thank you.

It's as bitter as donkey's piss!

I reckon Madame Sarah

thinks everything's bitter,

even Madame Lea's tea.

You're a smart one, Joseph.

The creases aren't in your mind.

I'll try to sort it out.

She's American. With a bosom...

Albert dressed her before the war.

If she gives us an order,

we'll have work

until we start winter coats.

Leon, know what this is?

. It's the bust of a lady

who'll give us all work, we hope.

Did you need both arms

to measure it?

The most amazing bust

I've ever seen...

About 60 inches.

Albert, be precise,

we need her custom!

My tape wasn't long enough

and I didn't dare measure

the missing bit.

Have you ever seen

a bust like it?

Where Abramauschwitz was, you'd fit

several people in your tape.

At least in the off-season

we can hear ourselves talk.

Jacqueline, tell us a story!

You know all my stories.

We don't.

You don't know this one.

It's new and not a story.

Talk about a pregnant pause!

It's about this dog,

our neighbors new dog.

He claims it barks

with a Yiddish accent.

I like the dog

but Leon can't stand it.

He. Thinks he's pretentious.

- His name's Leon. Like Strotsky.

- Trotsky.

- And like Leon.

- Yes.

- The neighbor or the dog?

- The neighbor.

No, the dog. Leon gets angry.

- He likes Strotsky, see.

- Trotsky!

"I'll call your dog, dog!" he said.

And the neighbor answered,

"He won't reply."

"Good", said Leon.

"We have nothing to say anyway!"

Three suits, five dresses,

two coats for in two weeks.

I suggested lots of pockets

with cuffs and topstitching.

It's more work and costs more.

She's chosen the fabric,

she wants color.

The hard part about work

is when there isn't any.

I forgot my pattern book.

I'll go.

Come and see something...

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