Disco

A letter from England.

That English woman.

No more banana boats for Le Havre!

They're re-routing through Antwerp!

Down with relocation!

The harbor's on strike!

GENERAL STRIKE:

HIGH SEAS STREE This is serious, Didier.

Slippers, please.

Respect the floor

and the person who polishes it.

Okay. l know.

You know nothing at all.

Your son's mother writes

that Brian will not come.

l translate...

"Brian will not spend

his vacation in Le Havre

"if it's to let him

roam the streets

"and betting offices."

That's what it says...

Maybe it's time to learn English.

lt's the least you can do

when your son is British.

Don't you think?

lt makes me sick.

lf we hadn't reimbursed

the neighbors!

Damn waterbeds!

- You sleep well in a normal bed.

- l meant well.

The bargain of a lifetime.

l wanted to share it.

C'mon, stop it.

We'll come through.

l'm onto something big.

Humongous.

l've sicced the consumer radio

station on them.

Believe me,

they'll be quaking at Gondolo's.

They won't soon forget...

"Didier the Brute."

Well, to see his son again

he'll need a job...

The Brute.

Another zero!

To find a job nowadays,

you gotta know three languages.

You need a trucker's permit,

a permit for the permit.

Even dishwashers need

a water permit.

lt's all bullshit.

Zero again!

My mom...for the bread.

Gotta do something.

Brigitte won't send the kid

if l don't give him a real vacation.

Another zero!

Give me a Vegas scratch card.

Look at me, Rodolphe.

One day l won't even have a coin

to scratch with.

l once knew a different Didier.

A Didier who stood proud.

A toreador in ankle boots

who defied the laws of gravity.

He caressed all space

while tickling the stars.

That Didier we called

Didier Travolta.

That was the real Didier.

- Jackson! What brings you here?

- Look at yourself.

Just look.

l saw you with your

shopping caddy today.

l felt sick to my stomach.

Where's the go-getter

of High Seas Street?

Where is he...

the leader of the Bee Kings?

The musketeers of disco?

l think they lost their d'Artagnan.

l took over the Gin Fizz

but it's not to make it Roseland.

Daddy's reviving

the disco dance competition.

Everyone thought me dead!

Daddy's still here!

Disco's back, guys.

You ready, Didio?

You know disco died for me

after the Boney M. drummer died.

Have it your way.

By the way,

fist prize is a trip to Australia.

Kangaroo land.

For two.

Greetings, everybody.

Welcome to the Gin Fizz!

Without further ado,

let's lift the veil

on the Big Plan for the Gin Fizz.

Daddy's concept:

The Gin Fizz Academy.

The veil!

l've simply replaced

singer contestants

with dancer candidates.

Enrollment is almost closed.

l'll ask our contestants to join me

on the podium.

16 contestants, only one...

17 contestants, only one winner!

That's it, friends.

Have a good evening.

And now, make way for disco.

So? Was l good?

Dishonest, most of all.

You didn't even mention me.

And the poster!

Where's my name?

Stop pulling my chain, Baroness.

No room!

Jacqueline Bouchard de la Marinire.

How do you fit that in?

And stop sounding off

about everything!

You do the finances

and l handle the artistic side:

the ideas, the brain.

By the way,

remember to call your show biz pals

about the finals.

A Malibu Banana, please.

A Malibu Banana for Elvis.

lt's on the house.

lt's so nice to see Didier Travolta

at the Gin Fizz again.

Not bad, eh?

Glad you signed up.

But you'll have to work hard.

Since you called it quits,

the crows have flocked in.

New blood.

Angelo "The Wop" Materazo.

37 contests, 36 wins.

He does a trio. Simultaneous

choreography, magic square,

double side shuffle.

He does what you did best...

Only better.

l'm re-forming the Bee Kings.

Winner.

Who is it?

Coco?

Open up. l know you're there.

l want to speak to Noneye.

Go away, Didier.

He's not home.

He works, at least!

- How old's your redhead?

- 7 or so.

lt's over with Brigitte?

Now l can say it...

Christ! She was a real dog.

The mother of my son wasn't a dog.

Just English.

And l've laid of the ros since.

Excuse me, sir, l heard

about an express washer.

The Thomson there.

Polypropylene drum,

pre-set program, anti-foam control,

anti-wrinkling cycle.

We have a sale on now.

l'm told the honeycomb drum

is sturdier.

Try a Honeywell.

- Thank you.

- At your service.

So, you in?

Can't do it.

Coco wants a new life,

a house, upward mobility.

So l'm taking the in-house exam

to be promoted floor manager.

This is just for a month.

lt's not long.

And there's a problem.

To be frank, she thinks...

had l not known you,

l'd be another man.

l wanted you to know.

l don't mean l agreed.

The Screech Owl has her views.

ln that case, tough.

Good luck on your exam

and your spin-dryers.

Happy trails!

l'll find a way.

She's on night shift at the hospital.

But remember,

if Coco hears l'm dancing

with you again, l'm a dead man.

Alissa, a German.

Pretty! She's a looker.

Go on and whistle.

But l don't feel like laughing.

Management won't give in.

Nor will we.

You know why...

No bananas, no work.

And no work, no broads.

Walter's right.

Meeting tonight,

by the containers,

south harbor.

They won't f*** us over.

No broads. That's bad news.

l'll put the crane to bed.

But Noneye said yes.

He always did the stupidest

things for you.

- l need you, Walter.

- l'm busy. l have responsibilities.

l'm spokesman for a union that's

calling a crucial dockers' strike.

So lay off me with your crap!

l can't go down again.

You never did come down.

Open your eyes. We're 40 years old.

Saturday night fever is over.

Especially for some kangaroos.

The kangaroos are for my son.

You have a son?

Excuse me.

Excuse me, young people.

Can l see a dance teacher, please?

France Navarre. Upstairs.

Thanks. lt's most kind of you.

France Navarre?

Could you not roll your caddy

on the dance floor, please?

So sorry.

How can l help you?

l want to sign up

for a dance class since...

l'm taking part in something...

And time's short.

Then we have just the course:

"Quick Express Dancing."

lt limbers you up for ceremonies:

weddings, communions, bar mitzvahs.

lt's with Mr. Carlos next door.

That's not it. Let me explain.

l used to be a good disco dancer.

l just need a refresher course.

l'll spare you the details,

but l'm in the Gin Fizz Academy.

The club run by

Jean-Franois Jackson,

the ex-drummer of Martin Circus.

France!

We're due at the Yacht Club.

Be right out, Guillaume.

Your boyfriend?

My brother.

He a jockey?

No, he sells horses.

Why am l telling you

my life story? Look...

l don't teach disco.

My mom. For the bread.

A pity.

l had a flash.

l want you to be my catapult.

To help me win.

l teach ballet. l don't think

l'm the person you need.

Message received.

Goodbye, Mister...?

Travolta.

Didier Travolta.

- And so?

- l said l'd do it.

He looked so lost with his caddy.

Didier Travolta? l love it.

lt's too much.

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