A Christmas Tale (Un conte de Noël)

My son is dead.

I looked inside myself and realized

that I felt no grief.

Suffering is a painted backdrop.

Tears bring me no nearer to the world.

My son...

fell from me like...

a leaf from a tree...

and I've lost nothing.

Joseph is now my founder.

This loss is my foundation.

Joseph has made of me his son.

And I feel boundless joy.

In 1965, Abel and Junon had a son:

Joseph, the first-born.

Two years later his sister was born: Elizabeth.

In kindergarten, the boy developed

a blood cancer called Burkitt's lymphoma.

Only a bone-marrow transplant could save Joseph.

Neither his parents nor his sister were compatible.

Junon conceived a third child

but amniocentesis showed his placenta would be of no help.

Abel left for the hospital in Paris

with his son, wasting away.

Junon delivered in Roubaix

and Henri was born.

No use.

Joseph died 18 months later.

He was six.

Henri wasn't taken to the funeral. He had a belly ache.

Elizabeth became the eldest.

Six years later, Junon had a last child,

Ivan.

Slowly, the memory of Joseph faded.

A CHRISTMAS TALE

Junon?

- Junon, what happened? - Nothing.

It's silly. I fell.

THE ELDEST

I'm sterile.

I'm unhappy.

Angry.

Seething with anger.

I even hate you.

Week after week, the same sorrow hounds me.

There's no end in sight.

Whose death am I mourning?

Mourning...

It's not my brother, Joseph.

We never stop talking about him.

No one cares about my son.

And he's alive.

It's as if someone died and I don't know who.

It's silly.

I haven't mourned anyone recently.

I search for the guilty party, the one I can't seem to bury.

To no avail.

Of course...

but try again.

That's all.

I guess when I say this it's a metaphor.

But a metaphor for what?

I'm lacking in nothing.

I'm lacking in nothing at all.

Why do you hate your brother?

Over the years, my loathing grew.

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

Was Henri now vile? Did I ever love him?

He had bought a theater and produced my plays.

Being indebted weighed on me.

I represent the former owners of the theater,

a theater that was never paid for...

- But my client is not solvent. - I will be.

I never paid for it, but I bought it

and now I'm selling it.

I was a shitty manager

but tomorrow I'll double my money.

You are not financially liable for your children.

You're not bound to pay your son's debts.

I am, morally. And Henri is in a situation of extreme poverty.

Is what your father says true?

Of course!

Of course he's extremely poor.

My father was guarantor,

so legally you must repossess his house and business...

In any event, I won't disown my son, however foolish he has been.

If I sell, I can get 700,000 francs.

I don't know who gave you that figure, but it may be lower.

Cut it out. It's just some cash-flow trouble.

We won't be selling anything.

I have a solution, Henri.

Can you step outside?

Of course.

Here are three payments.

My client agrees to reimburse the defendant's debts.

Papa, I have one condition.

I won't see my brother again. He must never speak to me.

Ever.

No more visits, no more surprise gifts.

He mustn't see my son either, or anyone in the family.

What you're asking for is not done, honey.

You're my children.

Obviously you can see him whenever you like.

But I don't ever want to have to put up with him.

At your place, Ivan's, Simon's,

in restaurants, on holiday.

Nowhere.

What you're asking of my client

is unreasonable.

Your Honor, I'm court-appointed...

My clients just want what they're owed.

Madame,

your private life is not a matter for the court.

Wherever I go, Henri won't be there.

Wherever I am, he won't be part of the family.

Henri had never paid a bill.

He had his hands in the till,

waiting to turn a profit on what wasn't his.

He'd have chosen prison over honesty.

When he was dragged to court, I decided to save him.

One last time.

Your sister wanted to testify against you

to deprive you of artistic control.

I pleaded the impossibility of testifying against family.

Your sister asked never to see you again.

I think I heard her say

that you were...

banished.

I think that's the word she used.

I'm sorry.

Crook. Bastard.

That's life.

I'll eat with your sister then take the train at 10:00.

Want to have a drink at the station?

Nine-thirty?

You're not in jail.

It's better than nothing.

After six weeks of protective custody, the judge dismissed the case.

Henri was acquitted.

He disappeared from my life.

You make him out to be the devil.

He is like the devil.

Ordinary, twisted. He's banal.

To be rejected by your mother goes against nature.

Why such animosity between mother and son?

I told you.

Henri is predictable,

like evil.

MEANWHILE, IN ROUBAIX

It's me.

So? What's the news?

As of now it's a refractory anemia...

with a disastrous short-term prognosis.

I didn't understand them, but...

statistically I'm going to die twice.

I have a degenerative cancer

that has a 75% chance of killing me.

The only solution is a bone-marrow transplant.

But the transplant is likely to kill me too.

So...

your chances are slim.

Indeed.

It wasn't that great a deal.

We need to up the ante, like in poker.

I was always lousy at cards.

A one-in-four chance of compatibility with my siblings.

You don't have any left.

Too bad my brother died young.

A 25% chance.

Even if the donor is compatible,

the transplant can kill the host.

Kill?

Yes, kill.

Not the cancer, the transplant itself.

And that's called a...

GVH.

35% chance.

Do we have to run the risk?

Radiation and chemotherapy can't help.

In fact, my blood phenotype is extremely rare.

I never doubted it, sweetie.

Paris, 1:00 a.m.

You okay?

Where is he?

Next door.

Hey, honey.

What's going on?

I come...

here...

except...

Except?

There was no train last night.

It's my fault. I should have been here, for you.

Did Elizabeth see me?

I scared her...

Tell me. What's this about a knife?

Paul?

Can I come in?

My son had a shock this morning.

He heard about Junon.