Welcome to New York Page #2

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That's enough.

Sorry.

It will be OK.

It's not easy but it will be OK.

What about Josh?

How's he dealing with all of this?

Josh is OK,

but his parents are pretty upset.

Have his parents

ever really been happy?

I have no idea.

But I do know they were happy

their son was dating the daughter

of the head of a major

international institution.

Maybe they should just be happy

that he was marrying you.

I would marry you even if your father

was a scumbag.

That's very nice,

but you know things don't work like that.

And Simone?

Very angry.

She never had much of a sense of humor.

I shouldn't find any of this funny.

You don't find it funny?

She should accept you

the way Josh accepts me.

She knew what she was getting into.

What are you going to do?

You mean when they ask:

"Blindfolded or not?"

Dad, stop it!

I wish I could have helped you to stop.

I didn't want to.

Correction.

I don't want to.

They can all go f*** themselves!

I think it's a little bit my fault.

It's my fault.

Just like everybody else...

Since childhood, I've been brainwashed.

By my parents, my teachers...

My teachers, my superiors at work...

I'm lucky, I'm not a Christian.

But I'd like to say this:

When I die,

I will kiss God's ass forever.

I found my God...

You.

My first God?

I didn't find it in a church,

but in a classroom.

It was idealism.

What a magnificent God!

To believe everything would be OK.

I was in the temple that is university.

First as a student,

then as a professor.

And I allowed myself

to be wrapped in that hallowed light.

Injustice?

We had righted all the wrongs.

World hunger?

Everyone would eat until they were full.

Poverty?

A distant memory whose existence

would be difficult even to imagine.

Wealth would be spread around.

To each according to his needs.

That's right.

It was only when I arrived

at the World Bank

that the enormity

of the world's pathos,

the infinite suffering

inherent in human nature,

revealed itself in all

its horrible manifestations.

Slowly.

One day at a time.

No.

One minute at a time.

I understood the futility of struggling

against this insurmountable tsunami

of troubles that we face.

Things will not change.

The hungry will die.

The sick?

They too will die.

Poverty,

It's good business.

Wise men are comforted

by their limitations.

I'm overwhelmed by this revelation.

No.

I can't return to that blissful youth.

No redemption for me.

What did the doctor say?

He said it was all my mother's fault.

Are you serious?

He said he was having lunch

with his mother,

and instead of asking her

to pass the butter, he told her

"You f***ing b*tch, you ruined my life. "

Another pedantic, narrow-minded

and shortsighted sophist,

whose only goal is to convince me

to join the rest of herd.

I won't fall in line.

It pisses me off

that one more time

I couldn't say no to you.

Do you know what you've done,

over these years,

little by little, bit by bit?

You've succeeded

in making me hate myself.

You see?

You've succeeded.

Damn it! Will you stop?

Oh! I had forgotten your plans.

Your plans of becoming president.

Your plans for me to become

President of the Republic.

That, I had forgotten about.

It pisses you off

that I didn't end up in prison.

No, it doesn't piss me off!

To spend a little time

thinking about others.

About yourself and what you've done.

I think somehow

it would be good for you.

A bit like military service,

which doesn't exist anymore.

Sometimes it's good for a man.

A little... a little...

Discipline, damn it!

- I have discipline!

- You don't have discipline.

It doesn't matter, you know my flaws.

That's enough!

I know.

That's enough... I'm fed up.

You're such a child!

You're like a little child.

I'm such a martyr!

Oh my God! Oh my God!

Me, me, me! Sh*t!

I've been your wife for twenty years.

But you're very happy to be my wife.

I was very happy to be your wife.

I wanted it for my life.

Your plans!

Your plans for me to become president.

You, the First Lady.

Your plans!

I'm not capable.

I'm not capable of being president.

You know that.

I don't want to.

I don't owe anybody anything.

What are you going to do

when we get back to Paris?

I'm the monster. I'm the monster.

That's wonderful.

That is a beautiful phrase. Truly.

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