Look at Me (Comme une image)

Can we start?

Hold it, hold it. Exhale.

Breathe.

Let's go.

Go ahead, I hear you.

And now? Can you hear me?

Excuse me.

Could you lower the music? I'm on the phone, I...

Go ahead, I hear you.

It's not me, it's the taxi radio.

I told him.

Where are you?

In front of the theater?

So how was it? Did Dad like it?

Well, I hear you.

I hear you fine.

I hear you, I hear you.

Could you lower the music, please?

No, just lower it.

Almost there. Where are you?

Oh, yeah, I see you.

This is it, we're here.

They're coming.

They're right there. They're coming.

Sir? They're coming.

All right, I heard you.

Well, you didn't answer me, so...

I said it twice and...

Enough. If you're not happy, get out and find another cab!

"They're coming." When? What year?

I'm not waiting all night. I'm losing money!

- What took so long? - I couldn't hear you.

Wait, there's one more.

- Where's Dad? - Right here.

- Where were you? - We've been waiting 15 minutes.

Everybody in? Can we go now?

The door!

- What? - Door's not closed.

You talking to me? Watch your tone of voice.

- My tone of... - Oh, no. I'm telling you.

Don't take that tone with me!

Or anyone. Ever heard of courtesy?

- Rue de Pavois. - I know.

I'm telling you again.

All right?

Take a right. Too much traffic.

Yes, sir.

Yes, they simplified your book. But it's a movie, they can't...

- It got to me, it really did. - Where's Vincent?

When she sees the orchestra with another singer...

What did you think?

I was in shock. I thought, "No way I wrote this idiotic crap."

I must be an idiot. It got to me.

- I wish I'd seen it. - Should have ditched your thing.

- My thing... - There's Vincent.

You told me too late. I can't ditch 10 people.

It's hard to agree on a time.

I couldn't do that to them.

- You lost weight? - Not a bit.

See that? Some people go right in.

What is that? Are there two types of guests?

You mean some get special treatment? No.

- Oh, good. - You can't make the actors wait.

Look! It's him. That's Cassard. At the entrance there.

Oh, he's gone. Did you see?

- Rare, seeing you entranced. - Entranced?

You're suddenly wired. It's funny.

Stop.

I like a writer. I see him go by, I'm happy.

- Was I entranced? - Not really.

He's a good writer and publisher.

Okay, but I need to see the invite.

Ask Mr. Cassard. He's my father. He just went in. Go find him.

I can't leave my station.

Step aside. You're in the way.

You can't stay here. You're in the way.

Karine, it's Lolita. They won't let me in.

Go somewhere else with that.

I'm starved. Does the invite say there's food?

There's food. Who has the invites?

Edith.

What do you mean?

I gave them to you at the theater.

I don't have them. I'm sure I don't.

- Sylvia? - No, I'm certain I don't. I'll look, but...

Sorry, Edith, but you never gave them to me.

I can see myself doing it.

Felix? Pierre?

Let's go, forget it.

We can't leave now.

They have a list.

- We'll just explain. - Not me. Let's go.

Stay if you want, but I will not beg them.

There are gorgeous actresses inside. Let's at least try.

He's really leaving?

Wait for us!

Are you all right?

Elevate his legs. It's a malaise.

Your boyfriend's blind drunk.

Boyfriend? I don't even know him.

He's freezing. Better cover him.

Ask if he vomited.

- Knock, knock. - Lolita!

Where were you?

I turn my head one second, you're gone!

I thought you were behind us.

Is she with you?

So many pretty girls.

Amazing.

- Go dance with Karine? - No.

This tonight's mood? We thought you were already inside.

How could we guess you stopped to make a call?

Here.

What's this?

"Daddy Schubert"?

The tape you asked me for.

I asked for?

No, give it to me. Remind me what it is.

You wanted to hear me sing, there's my tape.

Oh, fine. Give it to me.

- Sorry, you didn't say a tape. - Of course I did.

How are you?

- Come dance. - I don't feel like it.

I have a headache.

Shit, my jacket!

Such a disappointing film.

Cassard must've freaked. Nothing left of his book.

That beautiful moment.

She's backstage...

...and she sees a singer who's rehearsing.

It's totally lost.

Cassard doesn't care.

Don't bet on it.

Wouldn't you, if they made your book...

...into an idiotic tearjerker?

That would mean at least it got some interest.

I'm no longer a writer.

I took Nicolas to his mom's. She gave me a form.

I'm ashamed.

Next time, under "profession," I'll put "kept man."

"Writer" goes under "hobbies."

You know that's ridiculous.

No, I'm not being ridiculous. I'm being lucid.

Stop it.

You always do this dark, defeatist number.

Maybe if you'd written 15 books. You wrote two. So come on.

And those two books exist. You got great reviews.

One. One good review.

No, not just one.

Anyway, lots of people like your writing.

Now a third book. Things look good.

You think it stinks.

You think it stinks.

I think it stinks?

Did I ever say that?

I said the tone was lighter. You twist things around.

I think it stinks...

Want me to reiterate my admiration?

Yes.

Nice, talking to a panda now and then.

The Paris book, they told Felix no.

They like the pictures, but they backed off.

It's too costly.

Really?

- I thought they liked it. - Yeah, but no.

And that's why you're all gloom-and-doom?

I thought it was happening.

And we'd get a little money. All that.

It's no big deal.

It'll happen later.

I'm holding Felix back. Any known writer, he'd have his book.

Make a fist and put it in your mouth.

Keep the throat open like that.

Take your hand out.

And sing in the mask. In front.

All right?

Let's go.

You're listening to yourself.

Let the sound go. Music keeps moving.

Don't be stuck on yourself.

Not a chance.

Use the consonants, don't avoid them.

Enough for today.

Anyway, you'll work on it with Mrs. Kiehl.

- Fine. - It's still not perfect.

We'll try it Friday.

And we have rehearsal Tuesday. With my group. Tuesday.

- Tuesday? - Yes, 8:00.

You said you could.

I said that?

I said I could?

Well, see you Tuesday, then. Fine.

All right. Jean-Baptiste? The Verdi?

- From the cantabile. - Fine.

She looks at me like I'm God.

Who knows why. It gets me uptight.

I could kick myself. Something I don't want to do...

Instead of saying, "No, sorry, I don't have time"...

...just being adult about it...

...I say yes and wind up with a 50-hour workweek.