Jules et Jim Page #2

---

- What are you doing?

- I want to burn lies.

Give me a match.

- Oh, my God!

- Don't move.

- Are you alright?

- Hand me the dress.

It's by the bed.

- Got a broom?

- It's under your nose.

Can you help me?

Thanks.

We'll take this, too.

What is it?

Vitriol, for the eyes of men who lie.

That bottle will break

and ruin your things.

Besides, you can buy Vitriol anywhere.

- Is that true?

- Yes.

But not this bottle.

I swore I'd only use this bottle.

It took them a while...

to find the house of their dreams

along the coast.

It was too big and isolated,

solemn, white, and empty.

- Sleep well?

- Very well.

- Is Jim awake?

- I don't know.

- How is everyone else?

- Everyone else is fine.

What a nice day.

Hurry, let's go to the beach.

Let's find the last signs

of civilization.

A piece of tire.

- Look, a bottle!

- An old shoe.

A can!

Watch out back there.

Look, Catherine.

Watch out, it's steep.

A postcard.

A piece of porcelain.

A cup and a cigarette butt.

- A pack of English cigarettes.

- I'm afraid we're lost, kids.

Do you think I should marry her?

Answer me honestly.

Is she cut out

to be a wife and mother?

I'm afraid she will never

be happy on this earth.

She has a vision. Maybe

she can't belong to just one man.

- Let's go.

- No.

This time, I won't move.

I give up.

Help me, kids.

Let's go, kids.

At last, I read a book I liked.

A writer, a German, of course...

who dares to say out loud

what I think inside.

The sky that we see is merely

a small hollow ball...

no bigger than that.

And we walk

with our heads towards the center.

The attraction pulls towards

the outside under our feet...

towards that solid crust

in which the bubble is enclosed.

How thick is the crust

and what's beyond it?

Go and see.

That's not a question

to discuss between gentlemen.

Answer me tomorrow, Catherine.

If you say no...

I will ask you every year again

on your birthday.

You've known few women.

I've known plenty of men.

It averages out.

We might make an honest couple.

I've proposed to her.

She almost said yes.

At fifteen,

I was in love with Napoleon.

I dreamt I met him in an elevator.

We had a child

and I never saw him again.

Poor Napoleon.

I was taught:

Our father who arts in heaven.

I thought it said arts.

I imagined my father with an easel

painting in Paradise.

I believe I've said something funny.

At least, amusing.

You might try to smile.

Will anyone present

scratch my back?

The Lord scratches

those who scratch themselves.

The Lord scratches those...

You two taught me how to laugh.

Before, I always looked glum.

But that's all over.

It's raining. Come and see.

I miss Paris.

Let's go back, please.

We'll be there tomorrow night.

I've sold my book.

This is for Catherine.

This is for both of you.

- What is it?

- A back-scratcher.

I'm taking you

to the theater tonight.

- What will we see?

- A new Swedish play.

It starts at nine.

When the sand stops,

we'll get dressed.

Jim saw his friends often.

He liked to be with them.

Jules' two pillows

were now side by side.

Catherine learned to live again.

I still like that girl.

She wants to be free.

She invents her own life.

- Doesn't Jim agree?

- No.

It's a confused

and self-indulging play.

The writer revels in vice

to preach virtue.

We don't even know

when or where it's taking place.

He doesn't say

if the heroine is a virgin.

That's not important.

Usually not, but since he explains

that the hero is impotent...

that his brother is gay

and that the sister is a nymphomaniac...

why should he dismiss the heroine?

That's all in your mind.

Yes, and you help us think of it.

No psychology tonight.

It's not psychology,

it's metaphysics.

In a couple,

the wife must be faithful.

The husband doesn't count.

Who wrote:
"Woman is natural,

therefore abominable?"

Baudelaire. But he meant

a certain class.

Not at all.

He meant women in general.

Here's how he describes

a young girl:

"Monster, assassin of the arts.

Little fool, little slut.

A blend of idiocy and depravity."

Wait, that's not all.

This is marvelous:

"I wonder why women are

allowed to enter churches.

What could they hope

to say to God?"

- You're a pair of fools.

- I haven't said anything.

And I don't approve

of what Jules says at 2 in the morning.

- Then protest!

- I am protesting.

Jim never forgot that jump.

He drew it the next day,

though he was not an artist.

His admiration for Catherine

struck him like lightning...

as he blew her an invisible kiss.

He didn't worry.

He was swimming with her mentally,

and held his breath to frighten Jules.

Catherine, why?

You're crazy.

Her hat drifted away.

Jules was pale, silent, unsure of himself,

and more handsome.

Catherine had a triumphant smile.

No one spoke about her jump.

- I've arrived.

- Please, Mr. Jim.

- No, just Jim.

- Just Jim.

I want to ask you some advice.

Can you meet me tomorrow

at 7 in our caf?

Yes.

- She wants to talk to you.

- Right, I'll be there at 7.

- Are you joking?

- I never joke.

I've no sense of humor.

I know people who have.

My wife's friends, working relations.

But personally, I never joke.

Jim was late, as usual,

because he was an optimist.

He was afraid she had already left.

Jim thought:
"A girl like that...

would probably not have waited.

A girl like that

might have just walked in...

without noticing me

behind my newspaper, and left. "

He kept repeating:

"A girl like that."

But what was she like?

For the first time,

he began to think of her.

Another coffee, please.

Another glass.

Did I wake you up, Jim?

We're going to my country,

to get married.

Tell her I'm sorry I was late.

I waited almost till 8.

She's more optimistic than you.

She was at the hairdresser...

and arrived at 8

to have dinner with you.

If I had known she'd come,

I could have waited until midnight.

Catherine wants to speak to you.

I'm very happy, Jim.

Jules will teach me French boxing.

With an Austrian accent.

I've lost my accent!

My French is perfect!

Listen to the Marseillaise.

A few days later,

war was declared.

Jules and Jim were separated

by their uniforms...

and lost touch for a long time.

The war was never ending.

Gradually, it became

like a normal life...

tempered by the different seasons.

A normal life with dead beats, routines,

pauses, and even distractions.

Gilberte sent parcels to Jim.

He almost saw her a few times,

but each time his leave was canceled.

Then, in 1916,

he spent a week in Paris.

Don't marry me for my parcels.

We're fine as we are.

All right,

but I know this will last.

- How is Jules?

- No news of him since his wedding.

Sometimes, I'm afraid

I'll kill Jules during a battle.

My darling...

I never stop thinking of you.

Not of your soul.

I don't believe in it anymore.

But of your body...

and our son who is inside you.

I've no more envelopes.

I don't know how to mail this letter.

I am going to the Russian front.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes