Le Week-End

Synopsis: Meg, a teacher, and husband Nick, a philosophy lecturer who may just be about to get the push on the eve of retirement, spend a week-end in Paris to celebrate their thirtieth anniversary. He is staid, annoying his foul-mouthed wife who wants to turn the holiday into a series of exciting new experiences, booking into a hotel that stretches their budgets and running off from a restaurant without paying. She is also averse to his touching her and what was meant to be a belated second honeymoon is a depressing affair, full of arguments - including one about the son who has recently left home to live in squalor and whom Meg does not want to return. By chance they meet an old university friend of Nick, Morgan, an American high-flyer who invites them to a party where Meg can still turn men's heads and Nick has a conversation with Morgan's young son, leading him to believe that he is not as badly off as he had presumed. Ultimately there appears to be hope for the marriage.
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Romance
Director(s): Roger Michell
Production: Music Box Films
  2 wins & 10 nominations.
 
IMDB:
6.3
Metacritic:
73
Rotten Tomatoes:
89%
R
Year:
2013
93 min
Website
293 Views


1

- I think I'll just...

- Okay.

You've got the euros.

I've got the euros, have I?

Don't start.

You never lose anything.

I'll lose you in a minute.

Ladies and gentlemen,

- you can now purchase metro tickets...

- Thank you.

from our buffet between

coaches six and 13,

as well as a Paris pass giving you

access to museums and access to...

Pardon, monsieur.

We also sell discounted...

This is exactly what I needed.

Can't we have lunch immediately?

- Are you starving?

- I'm practically dribbling.

I like a man who knows

how to dribble.

Rue Myrha.

This is Chateau Rouge.

We've come out here.

- Ah, Montmartre.

- Ah.

Merci.

Practically fluent.

- I'm thinking in French now.

- You look French.

Oh, pardon.

- Oh, it was you.

- Oh, yeah.

Spritely.

Once you get in the rhythm,

you've got to keep going.

You're just showing off now.

Surely not.

They've tarted it up a bit.

They have?

All right?

Yep.

I reckon if you stood on

tiptoe with a telescope,

you could see the Hunchback

of Notre Dame's arse.

It's, um.

Beige.

There's a certain

light-brownness about it, yes.

Meg.

Meg, don't do this, Meg.

Last time, when we

were here before,

it was bigger, plus grand, different

colour, diffrente couleur.

So you recommend we

should redecorate?

I can't do that.

Merde.

- Meg.

- Sorry, sir.

How can you do...

How can you treat... Meg!

Meg!

- I'm really sorry, sir.

- Meg!

- Taxi!

- Don't.

- Taxi!

- We do have a complimentary breakfast

- if you'd like to try...

- Wait! Wait!

- Sir?

- Wait, wait, wait!

We have croissants, sir.

This was your idea.

- How terrible to be in Paris.

- You want us to sleep in a coffin.

- Give me the euros.

- What?

Give me the euros.

Wow.

Oh, Meg. Stupid...

Let's get started.

Meg!

Look, look, look!

Ah. Paris.

- Meg, stop it.

- Merci.

F***'s sake.

What are we doing? Why are we

doing it? Where are we going?

Why? What? Ooh, what?

We're in Paris!

Yes, exactly. Why don't we

just stop and enjoy it?

Just look!

You'll need this.

Okay.

Merci.

Meg! No! Please!

Bonjour.

No, no, no, no, no.

Non.

Pardon. Monsieur, non, non.

Jesus.

Meg? Meg!

Whatever it costs is fine.

- Hello, sir.

- Hello.

I'm so sorry, madame, but

unless you made a reservation,

we are completely and utterly full.

You see?

They've taken our bags.

- What now? Back on the train?

- Good idea.

Get a taxi to the Gare du Nord.

Sit in silence all the

way back to Moseley

before killing ourselves

in a suicide pact.

Perfect.

I knew this trip would

be a f***ing disaster.

- You didn't even want to try.

- I did.

But why did you book

that dreadful place?

I was foolish enough to

want to try and please you.

You actually said you

wanted to go back.

- Not that far.

- Madame?

- Anyway, it was the wrong place.

- It wasn't.

- It was.

- It wasn't.

They'd just redecorated.

That's all.

Madame, there is one possibility.

- There is?

- As a special offer,

we have a prestige suite

available for two nights.

In fact, Tony Blair

once slept there.

Well?

As long as they changed the sheets.

Thank you.

May I have your passports,

and a credit card, of course?

Of course. You've

got the passports.

Passports.

Bang goes the bathroom.

Just close your eyes

when you go in.

My only remaining ambition

was to have a bidet.

Well, I think we've

earned a very good time.

You know I'm anxious about money.

We might live for ages

as a burden to others.

I've taken up Zumba.

I'm redesigning my body.

Why? Who's going to see it?

Meg?

- The keys, sir.

- Oh. Merci.

- Anything else, sir?

- Non, non.

Merci, ca va.

Do you want me to

show you the room?

No, no, it'll be all right. Thank you.

Merci, ca va, ca va.

- Thank you, sir.

- Merci.

Thank you, sir.

See you later, no doubt.

Au revoir.

On, my God!

Oh!

It really is wonderful.

Quite spectacular.

Time for some refreshment,

don't you think?

Right.

Meg, Meg, stop.

We're not that thirsty.

So far this city is a

brilliantly designed machine

for extracting all our money.

What are you saying?

What I'm saying is that

we can't proceed with the bathroom until

you've made a decision about the tiles.

What's that got to do with this?

Well, I thought that now

we're in Paris together,

we could discuss important things.

Like tiles?

It has to be done.

Suppose I want you

to choose the tiles?

Aren't you interested?

I'm not sure I am, actually, no.

Here's to us.

- I love you.

- Lots of love, darling.

Mmm.

- Can I touch you?

- What for?

This last five to ten years

your vagina has become

something of a closed book.

Now we've paid all this money,

I'd rather see the Eiffel Tower

than your partially erect sausage.

See both at the same time.

Wouldn't take a moment.

I was thinking,

we could try taking our lovemaking

into another dimension.

What did you have in mind?

I thought we could pretend

to be other people.

A man who still wants to

make love to his wife.

That's unusual, if not

a far-out perversion.

I might do it for you later.

- Really?

- If you stay awake.

Last time we did this,

we could breathe.

- Have your knees gone yet?

- Not yet.

Nothing's gone yet.

Who'd want to live anywhere else?

Let's do it.

What?

Sell up, get a little

apartment here.

You'll find we'd still

have to earn money.

Haven't we worked for long enough?

What else would we do?

We could be artists.

Nick, we're from Birmingham.

Not by birth.

- Hello.

- Hi, Dad, it's me.

Hi, man!

Dad, are you at home?

No, we're on the continent.

In France, in Paris.

No, we haven't argued yet.

Not at all, no. It's wonderful.

I'm falling in love with

your mother all over again.

What?

- Another one? Oh, f***!

- Yeah, another one.

- What's going on?

- The place is teeming with them.

I'm going inside.

- It's important.

- Dad? Dad?

- It's a rat's nest.

- Oh...

And I don't know

what to do about it.

- Have you spoken to the estate agent?

- No, not yet.

- You should, that's the first thing to do.

- Think they'll be able to help?

Yeah.

Hmm.

Definitely not.

Come on, Meg, it's an emergency.

How can you let them stay in a house full

of rats with a three-month-old baby?

We just got rid of them.

You know what she's like.

She makes his life even more

intolerable than you make mine.

You make my blood boil

like nobody else!

That's the sign of

a deep connection.

Meg! Meg!

Do not mock or patronise me!

Come on.

He's our son.

- Come on.

- Stop!

Why won't you ever

let me touch you?

It's not love.

It's like being arrested.

I'm a phobic object for you.

Kiss me now, then.

Go on.

God!

That's us in ten years.

- Is that the height of your ambition?

- Huh?

- Ow!

- We're in Paris, give us a kiss.

God! What the f*** are you doing?

Don't you like to be spanked?

No! Don't you know me at all?

Whoa! Ow!

Oh, God, Nick!

Nick, I'm sorry.

- Sorry, are you okay?

- No, no, leave it. Leave it, it's my knee.

Oh, come on, old fella.

Take me to Casualty.

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Hanif Kureishi

Hanif Kureishi, CBE (born 5 December 1954) is a British playwright, screenwriter, filmmaker and novelist of Pakistani and English descent. In 2008, The Times included Kureishi in their list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945". more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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