M. Butterfly Page #4

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which you have abandoned.

You are all here

because you represent the four O's:

Old thoughts, old culture,

old customs and old habits.

Hard labor will cleanse you

of these evils...

...and transform you

into citizens of the future.

You shall now meditate

as you work on today's quotation...

...from Chairman Mao.

When I left China, everything fell apart.

I live alone now.

One more round for my friend.

Mm.

Now, in China, it was different.

I was different.

Why, sure.

You were white.

No, it was her.

It was her.

Goddamn it.

Must be those f***ing students again.

Talk about China.

I'll bet if you go out that door,

you'll think you're back in Beijing.

Every damn leftist student in Paris

has Mao's Little Red Book in his hand...

...and a red firecracker up his ass.

They're all playing at being

Chinese Communists with white skin.

Ren?

Butterfly?

Please forgive me.

After all these years...

...I have no right to even hope...

...that you might remember.

Butterfly.

I knew you'd come.

But where's your wife?

She's here.

She's right here in my arms.

Oh.

Monsieur Gallimard, I am Henri Etancelin

of Domestic Intelligence.

Will you please come with us?

That was 1968 when I arrived in Paris.

For the next two years,

I lived a very comfortable life.

I did some demonstrations

around the country...

...as part of my cultural exchange cover.

And the spying?

Not much at first.

Ren had lost all his high-level contacts.

The Chinese intelligence wasn't too happy

with parking ticket statistics.

Finally, at my urging,

Ren got a job as a courier...

...carrying sensitive

government documents.

Did he understand what you planned to do

with the documents?

I told him the Chinese

were holding our son...

...and expected a few favors

before we would be allowed to see him.

He cried and said nothing.

And then one day, he returned

with his first diplomatic pouch.

In his own small way,

Ren was the perfect father.

Your witness.

The prosecution claims Mr. Gallimard

was fully aware of the implications...

...of his espionage activities.

Is this your opinion, Mr. Song?

I have no opinions.

Then let's approach the matter

from another angle.

Was Monsieur Gallimard aware

of other aspects of your relationship?

Say, the fact that you are a man?

Well, he never saw me completely naked.

Ever.

But, surely, he must have...

How shall I put this?

Put it however you like.

In all our years together,

Ren never explored my body.

Monsieur Song, please.

In all your years together...

...he never even once?

He was very responsive

to my ancient Oriental ways of love.

All of which I invented myself

just for him.

You haven't really answered

the question.

Did he know you were a man?

You know, Your Honor, I never asked.

What do you want from me?

Are you my Butterfly?

You still adore me, don't you?

You still want me.

Even in a suit and a tie.

You're not.

You're nothing.

You're nothing like my Butterfly.

Are you so sure?

Come here, my little one.

I'm not your little one.

Ah. My mistake.

I am your little one.

Correct?

What are you doing?

Helping you to see through my act.

- Stop doing that.

- But that's what you always wanted.

Well, I...

I don't want it now.

Oh, stop that. Stop that.

Look at me.

Look at you?

I fail to see what's so funny.

Oh, well, you never had much

of a sense of humor, did you?

I just think it's ridiculously funny...

...that I've wasted all this time...

...on just a man.

I'm not just a man.

Don't you remember

that theater in China...

...where we met so many years ago?

The place where you gave me your heart.

The skin I remember.

The curve of her cheek.

The softness of her mouth.

I am your Butterfly.

Under the robes, beneath everything...

...it was always me.

Tell me you adore me.

How could you,

who understood me so well...

...make such a mistake?

You've shown me your true self.

But what I loved was the lie.

A perfect lie...

...that's been destroyed.

You never really loved me.

I'm a man who loved a woman...

...created by a man.

Anything else simply falls short.

Special delivery.

Pay the postman.

Big performance for you tonight,

Gallimard?

Mm.

The biggest of my career.

You know me, yes?

Why?

Because I'm a celebrity.

I make people laugh.

I made all of France laugh.

- Yeah.

- Oh, yeah, yeah.

But really, if you'd understood,

you wouldn't laugh at all.

Quite the contrary, men like you

should be beating down my door...

...begging to learn my secrets.

For I, Ren Gallimard...

...have known and been loved

by the perfect woman.

There is a vision of the Orient

that I have...

...of slender women

in cheongsams and kimonos...

...who die for the love

of unworthy foreign devils...

...who are born and raised

to be perfect women...

...who take whatever punishment

we give them and spring back...

...strengthened by love unconditionally.

It's a vision that has become my life.

My mistake was simple and absolute.

The man I loved was not worthy.

He didn't deserve even a second glance.

But instead, I gave him my love.

All of my love.

Love warped my judgment,

blinded my eyes...

...so that now

when I look into the mirror...

...I see nothing but...

I have a vision of the Orient...

...that deep within her almond eyes,

there are still women.

Women willing to sacrifice themselves

for the love of a man.

Even a man whose love

is completely without worth.

Death with honor is better...

...than life with dishonor.

So at last...

...in a prison far from China...

...I have found her.

My name is Ren Gallimard.

Also known as Madame Butterfly.

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