The Dreamers

The first time I saw a movie at the Cinémathèque Française...

I thought, "Only the French--

Only the French would house a cinema inside a palace."

The movie was Sam Fuller's Shock Corridor.

Its images were so powerful, it was like being hypnotized.

I was 20 years old. It was the late '60s...

and I'd come to Paris for a year to study French.

But it was here that I got my real education.

I became a member of what in those days was kind of a free masonry.

A free masonry of cinephiles...

what we'd call "film buffs."

I was one of the insatiables...

the ones you'd always find sitting closest to the screen.

Why do we sit so close?

Maybe it was because we wanted to receive the images first...

when they were still new, still fresh...

before they cleared the hurdles of the rows behind us...

before they'd been relayed back from row to row, spectator to spectator...

until worn-out, secondhand, the size of a postage stamp...

it returned to the projectionist's cabin.

Doctor, I'm not nuts! I'm here from the paper! I'm a plant!

Maybe, too, the screen really was a screen.

It screened us... from the world.

But there was one evening in the spring of 1968...

when the world finally burst through the screen.

The pawn of an obscure coalition...

of dubious interests...

the Minister Malraux has driven...

Henri Langlois out of the French Cinematheque.

...if offered us all a free and fair conception...

of French film culture.

Now, for bureaucratic reasons, culture's arch-enemies...

have seized this bastion of liberty.

Resist them!

- Liberty isn't given! - It's taken!

All those who love film...

- In France... - And abroad.

...are with you.

And with Henry Langlois!

It was Henri Langlois, who created the Cinémathèque...

and it was because he liked to show movies...

instead of letting them rot in some underground vault...

to show any movies-- good, bad, old, new...

silents, Westerns, thrillers--

that all the New Wave filmmakers came here to learn their craft.

This was where modern cinema was born.

What lies behind it?

The police!

Langlois had been sacked by the government...

and it seemed like every film buff in Paris had turned out in protest.

It was our very own cultural revolution.

Excuse me.

Can you remove this?

It's stuck to my lips.

Can you remove my cigarette? It's stuck.

Yes, yes...

of course.

Sorry.

- What are you, English? - No. I'm American.

You can put it out now.

- What's your name? - Matthew.

You're here a lot, aren't you? But you never talk to anyone.

We've been wondering why you're always alone.

I don't really know anybody.

How come you're chained to the gates?

I'm not chained to the gates.

- You're awfully clean. - What?

For someone who likes the cinema so much.

- Do you know Jacques? - Jacques?

"If shit could shit, it would smell just like Jacques."

My brother's gone to talk to him.

When he gets back, you'll be able to smell Jacques on him.

It's like being around pigs.

- You speak English really well. - What?

- You speak English really well. - My mother's English.

- Here's Theo. When I introduce you, just give him a sniff. - Come on.

Truffaut, Godard, Charbol, Rivette...

and Renoir, Jean Roach, Rohmer are here.

Signoret, Jean Marais and God knows who else.

Marcel Carne too.

Why is Came here?

What should we do? Stay or leave?

I don't know.

Theo, this is Matthew.

- You were right. He's American. - Hi.

I've seen you around. You've been coming to all the Nicholas Rays.

Yeah. I really like his movies.

- What? They Live By Night? - Mm-mm. More like...

Johnny Guitar and Rebel Without a Cause.

- You know what Godard wrote about him? - No. What?

"Nicholas Ray is cinema."

- What's up with you? - Me?

Come on, stick with me!

Fascists!

- Bastards! - Assholes!

And that was how I first met Theo and Isabelle.

I could hear my heart pounding.

I don't know if it was because I'd just been chased by the police...

or because I was already in love with my new friends.

As we walked and talked and talked and talked...

about politics, about movies...

and why the French could never come close to producing a good rock band--

- I'm starving. - I forgot the sandwiches.

I didn't want that night ever to end.

- Merci. - Didn't you bring anything?

No. I'm okay. Please eat.

Don't mind me.

- No. I'm really not hungry. - I've broken it now. Take it.

- You're very kind, but I don't-- - For goodness sake, take it when you're offered it.

Thank you.

- Theo, don't you have something for Matthew? - This is fine.

- I gave him a third of mine. - Okay.

- Really, I didn't come here to eat your sandwiches. - He doesn't want it.

Yes, he does! He's just too polite to say he does.

- Aren't you, Matthew? - You're very kind.

- So where are you from exactly? - San Diego.

What about you two? Were you both born in Paris?

I entered this world on the Champs Elysees, 1959.

The pavement of the Champs-Elysees.

And you know what my very first words were?

No. What?

"New York Herald Tribune!"

New York Herald Tribune!

- New York Herald Tribune! - New York Herald Tribune!

Will you come to Rome with me?

Here! Right here! Here!

No, there!

- Good night, Matthew! - Night.

"Dear Mom...

"I've got some real news this time.

I just met my first French friends."

- Hello. - Matthew?

Who is this?

- Don't be suspicious. It's me. - Theo?

- Don't tell me I woke you up. - No, I--

- I've been up for ages. - You don't sound as if you've been up for ages.

I always sound like this in the morning.

Sorry. I had to call you early because I go to class at 9:00.

- Right. - Listen, you want to have dinner tomorrow night?

Um, you mean like a real dinner in a nice restaurant?

No, not in a restaurant. Here at home.

Yeah, I'd-- Sure, that'd be great.

Yes? Okay, why don't you--

Theo, please get off the phone. It's 9:00.

Yes, yes. Why don't you meet us for a drink first at Le Raspail, 6:00?

You know where it is?

- Boulevard Saint-Germain? - Be there are 6:00.

Hey!

Third floor! Third floor?

You know, there's room in here for all of us.

- Theo and I are contagious! - What?

- We're very contagious! - Contagious?

You mustn't catch us.

- It's beautiful. - You think so?

Good luck.

Evening, Maman.

What are you doing here?

- We're here for dinner. - What?

With Matthew.

- Didn't Isabelle say? - Which Matthew?

This Matthew.

He's our new friend. Matthew, this is my mother.

- Hi. - Very pleased to meet you, Matthew.

- Likewise. - Oh, you're American, are you?

- Yeah. I'm from California. - Oh.

Matthew lives in that nasty student Hotel Malebranche...

- so we invited him to dinner. - Oh.

What's wrong?

What can I say, Isabelle? I'm cooking for two...

and now there are five of us.

Didn't Theo tell you?

No, he didn't. And neither did you.

Have you got mashed potatoes for brains or what?

You were supposed to tell her!

You're crazy!

Bitch, cow, slut--

Oh, for God's sake! Put a sock in it, you two!

I must apologize for my children's behavior, Matthew.

No. I'm the one who should be apologizing.

Please don't put yourself out on account of me.

That's very sweet of you, seeing as you're completely blameless.

Let me look at you.

Okay. I want you to make a good impression on Papa.

Papa, it's me.

We're eating in.

And the cinematheque?

Closed until further notice.

Papa, can't you see we have a guest?

- This is Matthew. - Oh.

- Sir. - Matthew.

Matthew's dining with us tonight.

My young Matthew, inspiration is like a baby.

It does not choose a nice, seemly hour to enter the world.

It has no consideration for the poor poets. I know.

But when it does come...

when it deigns to come, then you know it's--

Young man, I was speaking to you. I imagine you were listening.

I was. I'm-- I'm sorry.

What?

Nothing. I was just, um--