Last Tango in Paris

Fucking God!

"Apartment For Rent"

Id like a phone slug.

- All out. Down, back and left.

- Thanks.

Momma, this is Jeanne.

Theres an apartment in Passy

I`mm going to see.

Then I go meet Tom at the station.

See you later.

Kisses. So long.

Im here for the apartment.

I saw the sign.

- Sign?

- Yes.

What sign?

Always the same.

Nobody tells me anything.

- Id like to see it.

- To rent it?

I dont know yet.

They rent, they leave,

and Im the last to know.

You think thats fair?

If you want to go up alone,

go on.

Im afraid of the rats.

The key is gone.

Lots of strange things happen.

They drink six bottles a day.

Wait. There must be a duplicate.

Here it is.

Youre very young, right?

Let me go, please.

Shes crazy.

Where are you?

What a fright.

Howd you get in?

By the door.

Oh, yes. I left it open.

But I didnt hear you come in.

- I was already here.

- Excuse me?

Then the key-

And I bribed the concierge.

These old houses are fascinating.

An armchair would look good here.

The armchair has to go...

in front of the window.

You are American?

You have an American accent.

- Will you rent it?

- And you?

I dont know.

What are you doing?

Do I answer or not?

Theres no one here.

There is no one.

I dont know.

Then you decided to take it?

I had decided, but-

But now I dont know.

Do you like it?

Do you?

I have to think about it.

Think fast.

You still here?

Attention.

Who do they take us for?

This is cinema.

Were making a movie.

If I kiss you,

that might be cinema.

If I caress you,

it might be cinema.

What the devil do they want?

I know them.

Im shooting a film- "Portrait

of a Girl-" for television.

And the girl is you.

But youre mad! You should have

asked my permission.

Yes, but it amuses me...

to begin with the girl

of the portrait who meets her fiance.

This is my crew.

And so you kiss me...

knowing its a film.

Coward!

See, itll be most of all

a love story.

Tell me,Jeanne.

What did you do

while I was away?

I thought of you day and night

and I cried.

Darling, I cant

live without you.

Magnificent! Stop! Perfect!

I wanted to clean up...

but the police didnt let me.

They didnt believe in suicide.

Too much blood all over.

They had fun making me reenact.

"She went there.

She went here.

She opened the curtain. `

I did everything like her.

The clients, awake all night.

The hotel full of police.

They playing around with the blood.

All spies.

If she was sad,

if she was happy...

If you fought,

if you hit each other.

And then when you were married...

why you didnt have children.

Pigs.

They treated me like dirt.

They said...

"Nervous type, your boss.

You know he was a boxer?`

So?

"But he didnt do well. "

Then he was...

an actor.

And then a bongo player.

Revolutionary in South America.

Journalist in Japan.

One day he debarks in Tahiti.

Wanders around.

Learns French.

Then he arrives in Paris.

And here...

meets a woman with money.

Marries her and-

"Now whats your boss do?"

Hes kept.

"Can I clean up now?"

"Dont touch anything.

You really think...

she killed herself?`

And then he pushed me

in a corner trying to-

Turn off the water.

Maybe theyll do an autopsy.

Why dont you

turn off the water?

Heres your razor.

Its not mine.

They dont need it anymore.

The inquiry is over.

Yes, she had some cuts here

and on the neck.

Excuse me.

Where should I put it?

- You could have rung.

- It was open. Here?

No, in front of the fireplace.

And these chairs?

Heres the table.

Where do I put it?

How do I know?

Hell decide.

Ill leave it here.

- Heavy. Its really a double.

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