Chorus

Synopsis: A separate couple meet again after ten years when we found the body of their missing son. During their forced reunion, they both handle the death of their child in their own way. Amid the guilt of losing a loved one, they haltingly move toward affirmation of life, acceptance of death and even the possibility of reconciliation. Chorus is a love story that emerges from mourning and leads to two survivors clinging to each other as if to heal the deepest cut of all.
Genre: Drama
Director(s): François Delisle
  3 wins & 2 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.4
NOT RATED
Year:
2015
97 min
35 Views


Hello, Jean-Pierre.

Herv Laroche, Qubec Police.

Your lawyer called.

You have something to say?

What can I do for you?

You can talk to me.

This is a tough one.

What?

It's a big weight to unload.

If you want, we can forget it.

- No.

Don't go.

It's been on my mind a while.

It happened in a park in Cte-des-Neiges.

At a baseball field.

I was alone.

I had a bag full of baseballs.

I was hitting them into the net.

One by one.

It was a metal net.

The sound when I hit the balls

must've attracted him.

He was sitting alone in the bleachers

watching me.

When I'd hit all the balls,

I started picking them up.

One by one.

That's when I sensed him there.

He helped me pick them up.

I asked him to play,

he said he didn't know how.

I said I'd teach him.

He nodded yes.

We started playing,

but he wasn't very good at baseball.

I took my time, showed him how to pitch.

Did you play long?

Eventually the kid got bored.

He stopped trying to even catch the balls.

He watched them go by.

I went over to him.

He was crying.

I asked why he was crying.

He said he'd lost his key.

The key to his bicycle lock.

I checked his bike.

I tried to force the lock,

but nothing doing.

The kid was real upset.

I felt it.

How did you know?

I'm sorry! dunno.

I feel it.

I couldn't help him.

I didn't say a word.

I went back to picking up my balls.

I knew he was watching me.

I pretended not to see him

and went to my car.

When I was inside,

I lowered the window.

I looked at him.

He was looking at me too.

I threw him a ball.

It landed at his feet.

We eyed each other.

He wasn't sure what to do. Me neither.

But I asked him if he wanted a lift home.

The kid got into my car.

If he hadn't got in,

I'd have let him leave.

When was this?

Ten years ago.

I've never talked about it.

To anybody.

How old did you say he was?

Eight.

His name was Hugo.

Come get me.

She's cute.

She's beautiful.

- Thanks, lrne.

I'm 40.

Time does not heal.

I was asked if I had dependent children.

For taxes.

I had to say no.

I should've said yes.

I never talk about him unless Im asked.

I don't talk about him.

That's the way it is.

But he's inside me.

When I talk about him,

people are uneasy. Even now.

Time does not heal.

The more the years go by,

the more it's there inside me.

It's not something I wanted.

You don't realize.

I want it to go away.

But each day

the dark hole in me deepens.

Life does that.

A sound,

a voice,

a smell,

award...

It comes back.

I have no control.

I'd like to talk about him all the time.

But I can't.

Grief frightens people.

They avoid you like the plague.

Or play dumb.

Like nothing happened.

And that... is also unbearable.

I eat two meals a day.

I'm an adult, I can get by.

But not the kids.

Breakfast and dinner aren't enough.

It's not enough.

Mom

Irne, it's your mother.

- Hi.

Did I wake you?

Can I come see you tomorrow?

What's up?

Christophe, are you OK?

Yeah.

Yeah, it's nothing.

Like something to drink'?

I have a bit of juice left.

No, thanks. I'm not thirsty.

How's the choir?

Fine. We're about to record.

Later today.

What?

Medieval polyphony.

Motels.

Lovely.

Singing's good for you.

I rarely mention it, maybe I should...

But the fact you never

gave up your career is...

I don't know how to say it.

Reassuring?

Yes, right.

I'm not a little girl, Mom.

You'll always be my little girl.

I gave you your first

music theory lessons.

It would've been hard

if you'd left like him.

I thank God every day you didn't.

I sometimes think of Christophe,

in Mexico.

You got over him.

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François Delisle

François Delisle (born March 22, 1967) is a Canadian film director, screenwriter, producer, cinematographer, editor, actor, and composer. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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"Chorus" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 27 May 2020. <https://www.scripts.com/script/chorus_5500>.

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