Jacquot de Nantes

I know the art

of evoking happy moments!

Those scents, those unending kisses,

will they be born again

from that unfathomable abyss,

like a rejuvenated sun

rises in the heaven

from the depths of the sea?

O scents, O unending kisses!

The night was growing

dense like a wall

and my eyes glimpsed yours

in the dark.

And I drank your breath

- O sweetness, O poison -

and your feet fell asleep

in my brotherly hands.

The night was growing dense

like a wall. "

Is it over?

No, it's not.

Come, Jacquot, it's the end.

Sometimes it starts again.

No, it doesn't. Let's go.

Papa's waiting...

It's not finished...

I'm staying.

Show us yours, Jacquot.

What, now?

Don't you worry...

They do it later in the Army

to measure and compare,

so they know.

Know what?

Look out, someone's coming!

Put it back.

It's nothing to write home about.

You three again!

Hello boy, homework done?

That's right. Is it done?

Not yet, Papa.

Do what your father says.

Hurry up, Madame Marilou...

5 litres exactly.

You're tops.

- Hurry! Only one side is curled...

- I'm coming!

I'm on stage in an hour.

Papa didn't want it,

Mama neither.

Good little children

Obey their parents.

- That's in Act 2.

- Yes. It's the donkey duet.

The curler is too hot.

Come down.

Stay away from that ladder.

Done your homework?

I left my bag in the garage.

- It's fixed?

- Yes.

It clunks when it's cold,

but that's normal.

Thanks.

Hello, Demy Garage here...

I want to order a new car.

A black Citron 7 CV.

The customer's in a hurry.

Damn kids...

Always blocking the stairs.

Jacquot! I hate being late.

I wanted an orange.

Goodnight, Papa.

You should've come with us.

I know "Les Saltimbanques"...

You know, the one Mama curls...

It is love

that consoles the poor...

In bed, "the poor".

Say your prayers.

Our Father who art in Heaven...

They are good boys.

Hail Mary full of grace...

Coming to give us a kiss, Mama?

A rich labourer,

knowing his death was imminent,

called his children in...

and addressed them without witness.

Be sure not to sell

what is ours, he said.

There is a treasure hidden within.

Jacques' childhood was his treasure

and a source of inspiration

for his films.

Now then...

let me write.

He was writing about his memories

and he talked about them a lot.

Anecdotes came back,

forgotten names

and suddenly remembered details.

He spoke of the little kitchen,

the focus of family life.

And above all of his mother,

who was the life and soul of it.

Do you remember our last date?

He liked remembering

Sunday outings,

when time passed slowly.

He had known what he called

"a happy childhood".

Jacques recalled

the arrival of a country cousin

that a Brazilian industrialist

had turned into an upmarket tart.

Wait here.

Hey, good-Iooking,

is this Raymond's garage?

Raymond's my father.

What do you want?

You don't know me,

but I'm your aunt from Rio.

Papa!

Someone to see you, Boss.

That's him.

Oh, it's you.

You look terrific.

Come and meet the wife.

It's that cousin I told you about,

who went off to Brazil.

Don't touch, it's organza.

At last I know the whole family.

I'll take you all

to La Cigale tonight.

Come here, you.

You're invited too.

Now I can kiss you...

Oops! It's my lipstick.

Shall I sing you a song?

For God's sake, don't get up.

Go on, sing Papa.

You didn't miss our local wine?

Yes, I often think of "Gros Plant".

One day a producer said

I ought to be in the movies.

So I did tests.

But "Gros Plan" means "Close-up"...

I thought he was

offering white wine!

Let's drink to that!

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