Saint Laurent Page #6

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The time has come to demand it!

I won't let you!

Kneel down!

Mother!

Ask forgiveness!

Kneel down and ask forgiveness!

Mother!

He'll ask forgiveness.

He had lost his mind...

Where is it going?

To the Louvre,

for the group's IPO announcement.

Mr. Saint Laurent won't be there?

No.

Mr. Berg said his photo

can fill in for him.

Mind the door.

Keep going-

- Tilt it your way.

- Okay, tilt it my way.

Go on, try it.

Sh*t...

A couple of inches short...

Mind the door and the boss' head.

Nothing like the usual stuff.

I don't understand these sketches.

The colors...

Look.

They're very precise in fact.

The sketch shows the motion.

Each line, each color...

It's a complete break.

We'll need other suppliers.

All silk, chiffon, velvet...

We won't have enough time.

The cuts are all voluminous.

It's anything but precise.

True, there are no suits,

but these blouses and

skirts need a flou cut.

Madame Felissa

is going to have a lot of work.

He must come to the atelier soon. Can he?

Not right away.

He has to come

to choose among these sketches.

Yves wants them all made.

He wants to show them all.

He has big ideas.

Mr. Jean-Pierre and myself

will be here, entirely available

to make sure that, on his return,

Mr. Saint Laurent

will be proud of his collection.

For him, we must move forward,

outdo ourselves,

understand his ideas...

Mmm?

And give them life.

I have now decided

to bid farewell to my cherished profession.

I have fought the fight for elegance.

For elegance and beauty.

I have experienced no end of anxiety

and torment.

Sophie, bring me a violet taffeta, please.

Here, Madame Munoz.

The velvet has just arrived.

Do exactly as Madame Felissa says.

Too many sketches haven't been started yet.

Speed it up.

Cuts on a slant must fall nicely.

Hang the fabrics for two days

before cutting them.

Everything must be nice and loose.

The weight at the bottom.

If not, the weight will fall later

and distort everything.

The velvet must hang perfectly.

Don't touch anything until then.

I'm counting on you.

Ladies, this way, please.

First the atelier,

before the finishing touches.

The atelier is to your right.

Perfect. Walk now.

People here are 20 meters away.

There's never been such a distance.

Our lighting mustn't blind

the audience and models.

This system lets the models

emerge from the darkness.

Two spotlights.

- The YSL logo.

- That's important.

Music too. Loud music.

- Beautiful.

- I hear she walks like a goddess.

- I need a lot more.

- I know.

Any others?

That's all for now.

I want her.

This one too.

We need to see the girls doing the show.

From the beginning.

If not, they'll look absurd.

Will Mr. Saint Laurent be there?

Your arm, Mr. Saint Laurent.

There.

I'Il button you up.

You know,

when you arrived

at the atelier,

you...

You freed me.

You...

completely...

freed...

my sketches... Completely.

You're a magician, Madame Felissa.

It's not magic.

You just restore the fabric's balance.

That's all.

You're right.

Tell me, do you still receive

Mr. Berg's checks?

He doesn't forget you, does he?

No, he sends me a check every month.

Good. That's the least he can do.

There are people in the next room.

Yes, my doctors. They're always here now.

In case I fall down the stairs again.

It's tragic.

But I always get back up.

Moujik, my son.

Beautiful, isn't he?

He always has been.

Which one is he?

The fourth.

Moujik IV.

Have you seen this week's Elle?

Jean-Paul Gaultier?

Have you seen

the missile-like breasts he makes?

Hideous.

Your dresses spoke of Proust,

his speak of comic strips.

You have nothing in common

with such people.

You were the first to reveal Women's busts.

Now they model naked.

No more emotion.

No more mystery.

I know, I'm the last.

Yet, at the same time,

I don't want to be in museums.

I'm still alive.

But you're already in museums.

I don't like that at all.

Itjust proves to me that

I'm a failed painter.

Perhaps only the '76 collection

was a painter's collection.

Thank you.

Will he last the evening?

Yes, he'll be fine.

Stay with us.

It will float, won't it?

They'll walk quickly.

The fabric will flutter.

Is my mother here?

Your mother?

Yes, in the front row of course.

Beth

Everyone's waiting. It's a huge crowd.

Where will you be?

In the front row, on the left.

I'd like to be there to see them come out.

- One by one. It must be beautiful.

- Mmm.

Champagne! Let's begin.

Just imagine! 3.6 billion, Yves!

By selling to Sanofi,

we get 350 million each.

Along with the praise

for selling to a French group.

That's wonderful.

That way, I can finally buy a Rothko.

You must make a statement.

Here's the speech I've prepared for you.

"Over the years,

in particular the last few years,

"I've wondered how my house and name

would live on.

"Today, I'm happy that Yves Saint Laurent

is becoming part of Elf Sanofi... "

You're boring me.

It's important, Yves.

You know, Isaw

de Bascher again yesterday evening.

It was a beautiful evening.

No, Yves, not this time. Jacques is dead.

He died of AIDS.

Very few people attended his funeral.

He asked to be buried with his teddy bear.

I love you, Yves.

I love you too.

Good night.

Good night.

Do you think

that I gave Betty and Loulou

as much as they gave me?

You understand?

I think you have nothing to fear, sir.

Thank you, Adil.

Sometimes, I don't know anymore.

Yes, sometimes I don't know anymore.

Ijust don't know. Odd, isn't it?

I just don't know!

Do you still need me, sir?

I'd like to listen to Maria Callas.

Very good, sir.

Thank you very much.

Good night.

Champagne! Let's begin.

Number 1, Anna...

Number 2, Vi... Mounia.

Vibeke, number 3.

Get in line.

Ready...

Music!

I had a dream last night.

Mademoiselle Chanel and I

went to have dinner at the Ritz.

As we passed

the window display on Rue Cambon,

we started

to CW-

What do we do?

My obit's nearly ready.

But is he dead or not?

We need to be sure.

We have to break the news

here at Liberation.

What headline?

"FarewelL Mr. Saint Laurent"?

We need something with more imagery.

Uh...

"The man who loved women"?

The film just came out. That's awkward.

"Smoking/No Smoking"?

"Saint Laurent slips away"?

I like that.

How does your obit begin?

not inventing jeans.

"Othen/vise, the late couturier

"transformed Women's outlines... "

And women too.

"And women too. "

Highlight his Obsession

with the inner nature of the modern woman

more than fashion,

resulting in the radical change.

Try to use the word "Visionary"

I had something on the period...

"He helped to transform his times

"as a maker of joy,

"a craftsman working as an artist. "

What did he die of?

No idea. Call the American Hospital.

How much on his private life?

What do we say

about the drinking and drugs?

About his fragility, say?

"Saint Laurent slips away" is approved.

After that...

We need to know if he's dead.

Who told you he was dead?

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