Attila Marcel
- G
- Year:
- 2013
- 106 min
- 592 Views
"We are able to find everything
in our memory, which is like a dispensary
where, at random, we pick a soothing
drug or a dangerous poison." Marcel Proust
Marcel, look.
I think he's going to speak.
Look!
I think he's going to say "Papa".
Go on, say it, Paul honey.
Marcel...
What a beautiful day.
Two... Three...
Before the java came the waltz.
And before the waltz...
There was the minuet.
1, 2, 3...
They are all in triple time.
The 18th century.
The classical period...
Order, clarity, reason...
Think we'll dance the minuet in clubs?
Refuse no experiences.
The army taught me that.
Fight the enemy with his tactics.
It's not a boxing ring.
Fashions come and go.
Disco music is back,
so why not the minuet?
Can we go on?
With the waltz,
bodies begin to touch.
But only lightly.
The 19th century... Romanticism,
Chateaubriand, Delacroix...
Mendelssohn...
With the java, it's body to body.
The 20th century...
Auschwitz, Hiroshima...
Chernobyl...
Aspirin too.
No, aspirin's the 19th century.
Damn.
Concentrate now.
Form couples for the waltz.
Get some air. Step back.
Is everyone partnered?
One, two, three...
Going to the park?
You'll catch cold.
At least put your cardigan on!
Temporarily out of order
Again!
It's too much!
They're coming Thursday.
But I think it's a goner.
Six floors...
Dancing keeps you young.
Imagine the other old folks.
Jean-Yves!
Coming!
What is it, Mum?
All right...
Where have you put the remote?
Say when.
When!
Let's go, kids!
Happy birthday, Paul
Is it me or is the piano off-key
on the high notes?
You're right.
but the beast's already out of sorts.
I'll see to it.
Time for presents!
From Mr Chassepot de Pissy
and Mr Pineton de Chambrun.
Happy birthday, Paul.
in an antique store.
It's a chirogym,
a sort of gym for pianists.
Each appliance is designed
for a hand muscle.
I advise against using it.
Schumann lost the use
of his ring finger with one.
How amusing.
It must be very valuable.
From Mr Coelho.
It's from my home village.
No more crumbs in the piano now.
From your chouquettes.
Did you choose it?
I always choose by myself.
At least it'll come in handy.
From us.
Happy birthday, Paul.
What is it?
A model piano.
How topical!
Don't glue your fingers
for the competition!
I found this in a cupboard.
She's watching you.
From up there...
Hands off!
Why don't you talk?
Are you sick?
What's wrong?
I told you to get more.
Coming.
Madame Proust, your carrots
are even bigger this year!
Madame Proust?
Who's there?
Paul? What are you doing here?
Thank you.
Madame Proust, we have a visitor!
He's brought my record back.
It's Paul from the 6th floor.
The pianist.
The boy who doesn't speak?
He can see though.
Will he rat about my vegetable garden?
I don't think so.
He won't?
I know Paul well.
He can keep a secret.
I'm not letting him go
without some herb tea.
I make the decisions here.
I'm sorry. All this is my fault.
Do you know it?
Let my body
tell you things
that words cannot say...
You don't know it, you're too young.
My first slow dance.
With my future wife.
The happiest day of my life.
And my first real erection.
Look at this carrot!
I mustn't get this wrong.
This is the mute's.
And this one is yours.
Should I wait a little?
You never know.
Eat the madeleine
to get rid of the taste.
A hint of mushrooms, right?
Don't worry, it's herb tea.
It's not soup.
Then again...
there's another flavour.
- Asparagus.
- Ok!
That's Moustique.
He's my very own piano.
I'm no virtuoso but that's ok.
With the ukulele,
it's the thought that counts.
He's gone.
What a sad boy...
His parents died when he was two.
So he doesn't speak.
Quite a conversation-killer.
He has nightmares.
How can you tell?
Does he look as if he sleeps well?
I can't say.
You don't have colour.
What did his folks die of?
His aunts never talk about it.
But he was there when it happened.
Brilliant.
What are you doing?
He can't stay here.
Help me get him out.
He's not big
but I bet he's a weight.
Well done, Mimi.
One hell of a guard dog.
Deaf as a post too.
A hat trick
with a blind man and a mute.
You're sure he won't remember?
Of course, that's the asparagus.
It purges your memory
and washes out in your piss.
Goodbye.
Say goodbye.
Goodbye.
Come on.
Let my body
Tell you things
that words cannot say...
Jean-Yves!
Coming!
Closed
Where were you?
You've lost your keys?
We were worried sick!
Four hours to buy chouquettes!
We were going frantic.
We called the baker's.
They hadn't seen you.
Were you at the park?
When you go to the park, Paul,
write "park".
Not "chouquettes".
Any fool can do that.
What are you doing?
It's dinnertime.
Have we got everything?
Temporarily out of order
Sh*t!
Goddam thing!
Hold your head up, please.
It's not a square dance, sir.
On the tips of your toes. Light.
Airy... Elegant...
No!
You're hopeless!
I know, I'm a physical mess...
Come back for the java.
With the java, you can be...
Lopsided?
I have to sit this one out?
I don't need classes
to be a wallflower.
Mohammed, you really can't?
I can try in socks.
Then try, my boy!
You'll slide better in socks.
You're pairing up two fatties...
Right!
Time for the java!
Off you go now...
Poor Buddha. They got you.
Sh*t!
Attila Marcel vs.
The Villette Butcher
What on earth's that?
That's not a tango.
You said one step forward,
two back.
If you don't listen, you go backwards!
All right, start again.
Take your partners.
I know where your mother is...
Madame Proust - 4th floor
Your mother's right here.
In the murky waters of your memory.
Memories are like fishies.
They hide in the depths.
Look at a pond.
You think, "It's dark and flat.
Nothing lives in there."
If you're an angler,
you toss in something they like
and you start to see stuff
moving down there.
You cast your line.
You reel in one that big.
Not a pike, a memory.
And what's the bait you use
to catch memories?
This.
Memories like music, see.
Feeding the fishies is fine
but you need to reel them in.
And doing that requires a hook.
They're plain madeleines.
Some add orange-flower water
but that's a bit gay.
The hook is in this.
Metaphorically speaking.
There are some side effects
but they're worth it.
I nearly forgot...
It's not free.
50 euros a session.
Life isn't cheap.
And my ingredients don't come
from the corner store.
Well?
If you don't want to fish
for memories,
there's still some asparagus tea.
Incredible, look at those digits
We'll make you the king of pianists
You're the child
we've waited for Paul
In our hands, you'll learn it all
Come on, sisters,
give it a rest
Look at those shoulders,
he'll be the accordion's best
Nonsense, ignore what they say
A lord you are and a lord you'll stay
The time hasn't yet come
to buy loafers for Attila's son
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"Attila Marcel" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/attila_marcel_3261>.
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