Those Were the Days (Le plus bel âge)

Those Were The Days

The story is set in a Parisian high school,

1st and 2nd year students in preparatory classes

aim for higher literature,

prepping for École Normale Supérieure after their degree.

Other characters in the film belong

to the preparatory classes of the Saint-Cyr Military School.

Boarders or day students, these students defend

their sometimes antagonistic traditions with a fervor

that peaks during hazing rituals, the secrets of which

rarely pass through the padded doors of the dormitories.

The East German government has decided

to open all its borders, Berlin Wall included.

On TV, East Germans simultanously hear and read the official statement

Mom!

Mom, it's time!

Permission to undertake private travel to

foreign countries can now be requested...

Come on. Let's wake up. No sleeping!

Are you done here?

Wipe your mouth.

Mom, you'll give me money to pay Moreau?

Hurry up! Get your bag ready, we're going.

Mom, you'll give me money to pay Moreau?

...they rush, they run, they are in groups

with family, with friends.

They carry babies on their shoulders. Some are laughing,

some are crying, others are popping the corks of the bottles

they brought to celebrate the event, to celebrate the unique...

Jed, you have the money for school cafeteria? - Yes

Can't you stay here nicely?

Be careful! - Don't worry, I'll watch over them.

et alacris: which stirs, which is full of energy,

energy, cheerful, lively, ardent, joyful

root: el or il, normal degree

root: ol or ul, inflected degree

300,000 demonstrators marched peacefully in Leipzig,

an impressive procession of discipline

and determination last night

Night has fallen on Leipzig, the Karl Marx Platz, lit by powerful

streetlights, has become the domain of the demonstrators.

They are tens of thousands, gathered behind banners on

which one can read: freedom to travel, freedom to

9th november 1989, resistance video

Who does the cleaning of the cleaning lady?

A third of life spent on homeworks,

the second earning a living,

and the third enriching travel agencies... if at all.

One has to remind themselves that the first is the best.

Youth.

You are 29.

Hanging from a cliff.

I walk on your hands.

If you let go of one, you let go of the other.

In the second quarter, you'll be down to 22.

Some of you, in fact, having given up on your own.

Barely 18 will advance to "khâgne".

Only 15 months separate you from the entrance exam

for the École Normale Supérieure on Rue d'Ulm.

You are not potential victims

of some competitive exam logic that would be,

as I sometimes hear it said,

'we keep the best',

'we discard the others'

or they discard themselves.

It would be too easy.

You are in charge.

Each of you will one day have to answer Saint Augustine's question:

"What have you done with your talent?"

Claude, I love you.

I love you.

Do I also have a nickame in the dorm?

Naturally, just like the others.

Which one?

Cause you give a hard-on to every guy you dance with.

It requires following them, mirroring their movements, their bodies.

I even do it sometimes for rather clumsy guys.

Not always beautiful.

In short, you're too old to play with dolls

so you play the good-hearted whore.

Your brother.

Alright, I'll let you settle up. - What about your independance?

You who will pay the price for it

Men only desire the women they pay for.

At a path's bend a filthy carcase lay

Upon a pebbly bed?

Yet thou shalt be as vile a carrion

As this infection dire,

O bright star of my eyes, my nature's sun,

My angel, my desire!

Thank you.

The papers you gave earlier this year tell me all about you.

I'm not talking about the content.

But about your temperament.

That is, and those who have read La Bruyère know:

about your character.

That is, what you have done.

About your temperament.

Generally, not much.

Your answers are limited to a single word.

No subject, no verb, no complement.

Spelling mistakes abound.

Your vocabulary is below what one would expect from minimum wage earners.

It's disheartening to realize that you can't write.

Parrots! You just copy pages.

You're in hypokhâgne!

You don't eat?

For fuck sake mom, I have an exam to prepare for.

I want to pass it, I need to work!

Dammit!

You didn't close your eyes.

I cannot always close my eyes.

I want a man who closes his eyes.

It means you're letting go.

That you trust.

You are all stingy.

Men are stingy.

You are asking for too much.

I'm not bored with you.

But this overt sentimentality is in very poor taste.

Sorry for being obnoxious, but I warned you.

I'm averse to love letters.

I don't like having my arm twisted.

Fascist!

You little bastard!

I don't give a shit that you didn't read the letters.

You don't even deserve them.

Axel, you poor provincial dandy.

If no woman has ever dared to tell you the truth to your face,

I will come back to tell you.

I really like the scene with the poor man. Don't you?

I...

Act III, Scene II.

In the woods, Don Juan encounters a hermit who asks him for charity.

He takes out a coin from his purse. It catches his eye.

He'll give it to him if the beggar is willing to swear.

Provided you swear! Swear ever so little! But swear!

But swear!

So how...?

Read it, don't delay.

Up until the other time in tenth grade, I imagined that

Racine lived during the Middle Ages because he spoke of love.

Molière at the end of the 19th century because he talked about money.

And Corneille only in the 17th century.

In these places, not knowing is suicide.

Here, you must know before you learn.

It's impossible.

Don't hesitate to form alliances. Use your former teachers.

May I have your name? - Delphine Le Guevec

Delphine.

Delphine. Delphinos. Dolphin.

No, no, no, wait, rather...

Delphine, Delphines, the dragon guardian of the Oracle of Delphi.

You'll make it.

Do you come from this village?

Yes, sir.

And do you live there?

Yes, sir.

What is your name?

Charlotte, at your service.

Ah!

what a beauty!

Sir, you make me quite ashamed.

So, is it not possible for you to be at ease?

Alas! sir,

I am in the greatest need in the world.

Claude!

You're pissing me off.

Vertigo

Le Guevec Delphine, HK2

Good morning.

Miss Le Guevec,

Mr. Larziz and Mr. Lavoix, you will come see me at the end of hour.

Competition must prevail in this class,

but under no circumstances its bastardized avatar.

Competition? Reserve that for your rival:

Louis-Le-Grand Secondary School.

1st Year Dormitory

Ten more pushups.

Put your back into it this time!

This guy is such a pansy.

What the hell are you doing here?

Girls have no right coming in here.

I was looking for someone.

A boy.

Maybe he's a boarder. - And pigs might fly!

Maybe he's in this dormitory.

First year? Second?

A Khâgneux? A Chartiste? A Cyrard?

I know his first name.

What's his name?

Axel.

There's no one by that name in the dorm.

This boy, why are you looking for him?

You're in love? - No.

You're from Henri-IV?

Yes. - Which class?

HK2

There are other dorms. If you want I can take a look.

No. You don't have to, thanks.