You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet

YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHIN' YET!

Hello?

- Hello?

- Yes?

- Lambert Wilson?

- Yes, speaking.

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

What's happened?

Your friend Antoine d'Anthac

has just died.

It can't be true...

Before his death, he left

some very precise instructions.

He asks you to travel urgently

to his house in Peillon

to attend the reading of his will

and the funeral ceremony

that will follow.

I'm sure you'll respect

his last wishes.

- Hello? Pierre Arditi?

- Yes, speaking.

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Your friend Antoine d'Anthac

has just died.

Hello? Anne Consigny?

Yes, speaking.

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Your friend Antoine d'Anthac

has just died.

Hello? Mathieu Amalric?

Yes, speaking.

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Hello? Anny Duperey?

Yes, speaking.

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Hello? Michel Piccoli?

Yes, speaking.

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Hello? Michel Vuillermoz?

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Your friend Antoine d'Anthac

has just died.

Hello? Hippolyte Girardot?

Speaking.

Hello? Jean-Nol Brout?

Yes, speaking.

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Hello? Michel Robin?

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Hello? Grard Lartigau?

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Hello?

Jean-Chrtien Sibertin-Blanc?

Yes, speaking.

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Hello? Sabine Azma?

I'm calling

with some unpleasant news.

Your friend Antoine d'Anthac

has just died.

Before his death, he left

some very precise instructions.

He asks you to travel urgently

to his house in Peillon

to attend the reading of his will

and the funeral ceremony

that will follow.

I'm sure you'll respect

his last wishes.

Yes.

Antoine has always had

wonderful homes.

He couldn't help himself.

If he liked a place,

he had to buy a house there.

With age, it only got worse.

He ended up thinking

that buying a new house

was likely to solve every problem.

Taste was the only area

where one could trust Antoine entirely.

Antoine's system

and that of his buildings

was based on total

compartmentalization.

When,

after a few unhappy love affairs

that left him the owner

of a mansion in Versailles,

a castle in the Prigord,

a villa in Cannes

and, more originally,

a houseboat on the Seine,

he finally settled on that young woman

25 years his junior,

he felt a sudden need for altitude.

When that young person

left him last year,

the spring must have gone

out of his life.

He saw no need to buy a new place

for the lonely months he had left.

Poor Antoine!

I wept every tear in my body

when I heard.

My eyes are dry

for the rest of my life.

Sabine!

What an extraordinary house!

It's so like him.

Poor Antoine...

Cleaning his hunting rifle,

all alone, at five in the morning,

in the rising sun.

He knew guns well.

Personally, I have no doubt

that it was an accident.

The only thing that shocked me

were the strict orders that he left

for the staff and myself:

Not to let anyone know,

bury him first,

then call Paris afterwards.

Azma's going to yell at me...

Piccoli!

They called you too?

What happened?

How are you?

Like a true master of ceremonies,

the butler assigned rooms

and served refreshments.

He then asked them to go

to the living room.

We sit anywhere?

I'll sit here.

You take a dog.

Cut off its head and tail

and you have a little bench.

What are you talking about?

Take a dog, cut off its head and tail

and you have a little bench.

Once they had crossed the bridge,

the ghosts came to meet them.

We are here to fulfil

the sacred wish of Antoine,

who wanted us all present

for the laying of his gravestone

at his final resting place.

However, Antoine first wanted

to address you all directly.

How odd...

My dear friends,

thank you for accepting

my invitation.

All of you,

at different times in your lives,

have performed my play Eurydice.

Over the years,

some have even played several roles.

Mysterious spirits...

Thank you.

Thank you, Sabine Azma,

my first Eurydice.

I see you as a slip of a girl,

a little pale, trembling and vibrant.

You're sad now

but black suits you.

Thank you, Anne Consigny,

my other Eurydice,

torn by your contradictions.

Anny Duperey,

Eurydice's intransigent mother.

Pierre Arditi, Lambert Wilson,

you who succeeded each other

as Orpheus.

Thank you,

vulnerable enchanters.

And Michel Piccoli,

wonderful and pathetic

as Orpheus's father.

Thank you, Hippolyte Girardot,

an unsettling agent,

and Mathieu Amalric,

a funereal Monsieur Henri.

Thank you.

Jean-Chrtien Sibertin-Blanc,

a discreet civil servant.

Jean-Nol Brout,

an inconsolable lover,

and Michel Vuillermoz,

an imperial tragic actor.

Thank you, Grard Lartigau,

a heartbreaking stage manager,

and Michel Robin,

a Chekhovian waiter.

Thank you for coming to this

odd meeting that I shall not attend.

Today, I turn to you

with the utmost insistence

to act as my executors.

Let me explain.

A few weeks ago,

a young stage company,

the Compagnie de la Colombe,

contacted me to request permission

to stage Eurydice.

The director sent me

a recording of their rehearsals.

Given the situation,

I am asking you to judge

the validity of this request.

Marcellin, over to you.

More than 2,000 years ago,

the Greeks delighted in the tale

of a musician, Orpheus,

and his companion Eurydice.

Thanks to Antoine d'Anthac,

we shall hear their story

again tonight.

ACT ONE:

- Son?

- Father?

Do you expect your old father

to beg in a station buffet?

I'm playing for myself.

A station buffet with just one customer

pretending not to listen.

How time passes...

Back in my heyday,

who'd have thought

I'd pluck my harp in cafs?

Who'd have thought I'd be reduced

to begging with a tiny saucer?

Mother.

Every time

you were fired from a job.

- You're carrying on?

- Does it bother you?

I can't concentrate.

Eight times seven.

Fifty-six.

- Are you sure?

- Yes.

Funny.

I hoped it would be sixty-three.

After all,

eight times nine is seventy-two.

We're nearly broke.

I know.

That's all you can say?

Yes, father.

Good, I'm used to it.

Eight times seven?

Fifty-six.

Fifty-six.

You shouldn't have told me again!

We ate well tonight for 12.75 francs.

No, father.

If you'd chosen right,

instead of vegetables,

you'd have had a second dessert.

You see, son...

We ate better this evening

for 12.75 francs

than yesterday for 13.5 francs.

True. They had cloth napkins...

True, they had cloth napkins,

not paper ones.

That place was trying...

That place was trying to look posh

but was no better.

Once, son...

You know, son,

once I was invited to Poccardi's,

near the Opera.

They brought me the platter...

You've told me

ten times already, father.

All right, I won't insist!

That's a sad tune you're playing.

My thoughts are sad too.

Thoughts about what?

You.

Fancy! What now?

Since mother died...

Since mother died, I follow you

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