Bitter Moon Page #5

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Make yourself comfortable.

Use my wheelchair.

( laughs )

The brake! The brake!

( sighs )

Have a heart, Nigel.

Don't be too rough on a man

demolished

by a love

that was too strong.

Yes, sir.

We should have stopped

right there.

Lovers should quit

when their passion

is at its peak,

not wait

until its inevitable decline.

As it was, my desire for her

had begun to wane.

There she would lie,

gorgeous, voluptuous,

and it didn't

do a thing for me.

I came to resent

her failure to excite me

the way she used to.

( man speaking French )

We were developing

a narcotic dependence

on television,

the marital aid

that enables a couple

to endure each other

without having to talk.

( carnival music playing )

A New York editress

was overnighting in Paris

on her way

to the Frankfurt Book Fair

and I wanted

to show her a good time.

It was a PR job.

And I was apprehensive

of her reaction to Mimi,

who tended to upstage

every other woman in sight.

You wearing that?

Mmm.

- That dress?

- What about it?

Couldn't you wear

something else?

What's wrong with it?

Nothing.

What do you mean, nothing?

You think it makes me

look fat, eh?

You think it makes

my *** look fat.

Did I say that?

You think I've got

a fat ***.

You said that.

I didn't.

So you do think

I've got a fat ***.

Jesus, Mimi,

give me a break.

You wouldn't have said that

once upon a time.

You liked my ***.

I still like your ***.

I'm crazy about your ***.

You don't love me anymore.

For Christ's sake,

wear what you *** want,

Mimi.

Wear a *** bathrobe

for all I care.

The trouble is, Oscar,

publishing isn't what

it used to be.

It's the bottom line

that counts now.

Proven track records,

advance sales.

No one's going

to invest in a newcomer

who hasn't proven himself.

So an unknown

can't get published

unless he's known?

Sounds like

a catch-22 to me.

Well, you could call it that.

And your Parisian settings

don't help any.

When are you going

to come back home?

The United States,

where it's at?

No, you wouldn't do that.

Oscar's a fixture here.

He's like the Eiffel Tower.

He's right, Beverly.

I love it here.

- I feel at home.

- Good for you.

Come on, get a life.

Paris is out-- vieux jeu.

It's a literary mausoleum.

Henry Miller used it up

50 years ago.

God, I don't think

France has been the same

since they gave up absinthe.

Oh!

- Ah, sorry, I'm fine.

- Hey!

- I'm fine, I'm fine.

- Let me clean it up.

Thank you.

I'm fine, I'm fine.

You know what?

I should make you my agent.

That'd solve all my problems.

"Paris is out.

Vieux jeu."

You really did me

some good tonight.

Like I don't have enough trouble

getting published.

I couldn't bear to see you

crawl up her *** like that.

I'll crawl up the ***

of anyone I *** well

feel like.

Yours isn't the only one

in town.

Is that how you feel?

That's exactly how I feel.

In that case,

I'd better go.

Okay, you do that.

( typing )

I'm going now.

Uh-huh.

- Are you sad I'm going?

- Uh-huh.

You're not sad.

I am sad.

But it's better this way.

( typing continues )

My keys.

Thanks.

( sobbing )

I love you. I love you so much.

Please don't make me go.

Please.

Stop crying.

Go make some coffee

or something, huh?

Oscar:

I came to dread bedtime.

I would feel

this overpowering desire

to sleep.

Gee.

I'm bushed.

( sighs )

Oscar:

I'd feel sorry for her.

Good night.

Lying there with her belly

crying famine,

her organs

in turmoil.

Kiss me good night.

Not like that.

Hold me.

I would crush my lips

against hers

like you mash out

a butt in an ashtray.

But that was only a prelude

to the most unoriginal act

known to man,

the process referred to

as copulation.

I felt like a rat

in a trap.

Out there,

people were having fun,

dancing, making love.

Paris was throbbing

to its own frenetic rhythms.

They pounded away in my head,

driving me crazy.

I craved variety.

I hungered for noise

and excitement.

( tone beeping )

( pop music playing )

Oscar:

Yeah.

Yeah.

( moaning )

Yes.

Yeah-- oh, no!

- No! Oh! Oh, no!

- ( dog growling )

- Oh! Holy ***!

- ( dog yelps )

Do you have to

drink it that way?

Why can't you

use a glass?

What's the difference?

It tastes the same.

It doesn't look the same.

Oh, la la.

I didn't know

you were so delicate.

- What do you mean, delicate?

- I mean delicate.

I know what you mean,

but it's just not the right word

in English.

If you don't know the right word

in English, say it in French.

I don't say it in French

because your French

isn't good enough.

It's better

than your English.

After all these years

in Paris?

So it should be.

Maybe your English

isn't that good either.

Maybe that's why no one

wants to publish your books.

Now you're a literary critic?

That's great

coming from a waitress.

I'm not a waitress.

I'm a dancer.

Dancer, hell.

You'd still be begging for tips

if I hadn't picked you up

out of

that *** restaurant.

( screaming )

( shouts in French )

You little ***!

Okay, show's over.

You can get up now.

Mimi.

Jesus, don't do this

to me.

Baby?

Come on, say something.

Please.

God Almighty.

( beeping )

( scanning sounds )

( ringing )

( woman speaking French )

Bonjour.

( speaks French )

( woman speaks )

( speaks French )

( woman speaking )

Uh... no.

( woman speaking )

- No, no.

- ( woman speaking )

Allô? All?

J'ai mal.

Where?

Where?

Où tu as mal?

My head.

Is it bad?

How bad is it?

Tiger.

Should I call a doctor?

Just hold me.

Baby, forgive me, please.

I love you.

Wow, it's great.

Thank you.

Oh, thank you!

I'm so happy.

What a lovely evening.

I wish it could last forever.

Forever's a long time, baby.

I can't think in those terms.

I never could.

When something is good,

don't you want it

to last forever?

Sure, but good things

never do.

Not even us?

Are we so good?

Aren't we?

Well, now that you come

to mention it, no.

Not anymore.

Come on, Mimi,

let's stop

kidding ourselves.

I don't understand.

Look, it was sweet

while it lasted.

Boy, it was sweet.

But it's going sour,

isn't it?

- Well, isn't it?

- ( sobs )

You know, I've been hoping

that you'd take the initiative.

But, no, you seem quite happy

to let things keep on

dragging on this way.

Well, I'm not.

I'm degrading myself

by degrading you.

We're degrading each other,

for God's sake.

Let's not spoil

a beautiful memory.

Let's quit while we still

have a few shreds

of dignity left.

But I love you.

And I want to--

I want to marry you.

I want to give you babies.

I want to give you

the rest of my life.

I don't want

the rest of your life.

I want my own.

Can't you get it

through your head?

What did I do wrong?

Did I ever harm you?

Oscar, tell me.

Even a criminal

is told his crime.

What did I do?

You didn't do anything.

You exist, that's all.

I understand.

Oscar:

Did I miss her?

Sure, I did.

But I also experienced

an incredible sense of freedom.

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