La famille Belier Page #3

Goodbye.

- Welcome Mr. Blier.

- Bye.

What do you mean, who I am?

I worked with

the greatest French singers!

It's 10 years that this f***ing rector

has been refusing me Paris

and I am dying in the middle of nowhere,

with bumpkins...

who think that

Grard Lenorman is from Normandy!

And if you ... What?

No, I want to talk to the rector.

Is it too much to ask?

Pull your fingers off your ass

and pass it to me !!

Hello? Hello!

- Damn.

- He must be all alone, Thomasson.

You don't want to volunteer

this summer? Or get a job

so we can make some money?

- Why not? Do you have a snack?

- I have a Snickers bar.

- Oh no, disgusting.

- My God!

No ...

- B*tch.

- I'm not here.

This is nothing...

It happens.

Let's go.

- No.

- Come!

- Let's go!

- Stop!

Well then?

So the juniors,

not briefing the newbies?

Go, into class.

I hate my life.

Good luck.

- Come on, sheep.

- Hello, sir.

Hello.

All right.

I rebuke for two years and

end up with a choir singing...

in broken voices. Except

four or five with Parisian-style,

Gabriel Chevignon.

This is No Man's land!

Anyway I'm punished for

I-don't-know-what I did in a previous life.

We will challenge fate and tackle

a monument.

Until the end of this year...

We will work on

Michel Sardou's repertoire.

Yes. Yes.

When things go wrong,

and there is no hope,

Michel Sardou is the solution.

Can we change?

Why?

That's not good enough for you?

There are others more modern.

Modern?

To the French songs,

Michel Sardou is like

what Mozart is to the classical music:

timeless.

Pass.

She runs, she runs,

The disease of love

In the heart of the children

From 7 to 77 years old

She sings, she sings

The Insolent River

Uniting in its bed

Blonde hair, gray hair

What's going on?

We disconnected you or what?

I hear nothing,

I feel nothing.

You do not breathe.

Nothing happens!

The technique...

I don't care about technique!

You, the new little girl. Come.

- Me?

- Yes.

Sit down.

The ventral breathing,

heard about it?

- No.

- No?

Spread your feet.

That's it.

Plant the sacrum.

Press the pelvic floor.

Open your ribs.

Open. That's it.

Breathe. There. Again.

You feel your diaphragm moving?

- Yes.

- Good.

Concentrate and repeat with me.

Ready?

She runs, she runs,

The disease of love

It's not your voice.

Hmm, yes.

No, it's not your voice.

Do what I do.

Relax the shoulders.

That's it. Let go.

No eyes.

Straight ahead.

Yes, it's starting to come!

Open. it's coming.

Excuse me.

It's about time

for it to go out!

Your waist belt.

Open. Wide.

Don't sing for yourself in the mouth.

What's your name again?

- Paula Bzier, rhymed with "Aries"

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes