The Prize of Peril (Le Prix du danger)

THE PRIZE OF PERIL

Seven seconds before the chopper. Contact, set control room.

Ready! Steady! Second chopper, go!

Camera Three! To the left, for God's sake!

To the left! To the left!

Chopper camera! Chopper camera, close up on him, damn you!

Yes, my friends, he is dead.

In spite of his heroic courage, Roederer couldn't escape

the five ruthless killers chasing him. And how, dear viewers,

how we all wished for his victory.

Unfortunately, this is the relentless and grand rule of our show,

a fortune or death.

What a spectacle!

What an emotion.

This third episode of "The Prize of Danger"

attained... such heights.

Roederer!

In the name of the hundred million viewers..

who admired you throughout Europe...

words fail me to tell you...

my admiration, my emotion... and to congratulate you.

You were a candidate of exceptional valour...

What a pity. To fail so close to the goal.

Ten minutes more, ten minutes,

and you would have won the bounty of one million dollars.

But you didn't lose everything.

In order to show its admiration,

the management of our channel, CTV, offers you the exceptional bounty,

of ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars!

That I have the pleasure to hand over to the very nice Mrs Roederer,

the wife of our unfortunate candidate. Come, Mrs Roederer, come.

And look, oh my friends, how moved she is...

Madam.. Come and receive the check

that is offered to your husband.

May I be so bold as to ask you to say a few words?

She's really awed... terribly upset.

And I am as much as she is.

A huge applause!

Yesterday, what with unemployment and the recession,

Mrs Roederer and her three children lived in poverty.

And today, thanks to your husband...

the unfortunate candidate in "The Prize of Danger"...

You are, madam, free from want

and rich of these ten thousand dollars.

Here...

After... so cruel a tragedy,

I'm loath to tell you about our forthcoming holidays, but...

life goes on! Where shall we go next summer?

If I were you, I would rush to a "Tourism for All" agency.

"Tourism for All" puts the world...

within the reach of any purse, even the smallest one.

- Tahiti. Bora-Bora. - Send the dancers on number four.

The spellbinding nights in Polynesia.

Desert beaches. A limpid sea.

And girls as beautiful as the sun!

- Here you are. - Thank you.

- Me, please. - No, please, that's enough now.

You are a murderer, Mallaire. You and all the CTV.

You earn millions with your show but you are murderers!

I'll have your show banned!

Mallaire, murderer! Mallaire, murderer!

Two possible theories. Either this Elizabeth Worms is an idealist

or she's an opportunist.

In the second case, she succeeded,

two months ago, she was completely unknown,

- today everybody talks about her. - Thanks to us.

Put the previous picture back on, please.

- You studied with her all the way, Laurence, didn't you? - Yes, Sir.

What do you think of her?

Did she use our show to start a career?

Is she manipulated by political movements?

Neither. She's just honest and also remarkably intelligent.

- Are you sure she can't be bought? - Positive.

If she's honest and intelligent, which are usually incompatible,

we'll have to be very vigilant.

She reported us to the Citizen Rights Commission.

We control several of their members anyway.

I think we can also rely on the discreet support of the Government.

The interest of the nation is at stake.

I was just emphasizing the other day for the minister of Unemployment

the diverting effect our first two shows had.

While they're enthralled by the Prize of Danger, our five million unemployed

forget to go down in the street.

Of course, but in our ill-conceived democracy,

counsellor Worms could very well find an awkward judge

who will put justice above the interest of the nation.

Meanwhile, Laurence, you'll take care of the next candidates with Mallaire.

We're making a melodrama, we need actors who smell of the masses.

Are you all ready?

Get set, we're going to begin.

Move further apart from each other. Number 12, move over.

careful not to hide your neighbour.

- Tell me, what must we do now? - Nothing special at the moment.

Just look as natural as you can. Stay well behind the line.

You see it, don't you? This line, here! Stay behind it.

Eleven! Straighten you back. Thirty-one! Suck your gut in.

Please do a pan on every face. One at a time. Thank you.

Say, what with this herd of morons, it won't be easy.

This one is without any interest. Next.

Next!

A redhead. No, no redheads, they're bad luck.

- Well, what 'you think of this one? - Not bad...

He's got a nice face. A real smile. He would deserve to be happy.

Could you ask him to say something? Lets see if this one can talk.

- Eighteen, can you say something? - Sure, what must I say?

Great. He has a quick wit. Put him aside, okay? Next.

Next.

Are they kidding?

A nigger. Look, we can live with being called criminals, but racists,

nobody would forgive us.

Come on, next.

Oh, no, not this one. This one is too handsome. Way too handsome.

And also sexy. He's much too sexy.

Look at this, will you, it would be very bad for family audiences.

Oh no. Jealous husbands would prevent their wives from watching the show.

Oh, little one... Bah, how ugly!

Out of the question, women wouldn't give a damn about what might happen to him.

Make up your mind, the previous one was just the opposite.

It's a matter of proportions.

Forty-two again, please?

Forty-two. Show us Forty-two.

I think he's got something.

I even think this Forty-two is quite good.

He's handsome and has personality.

You're right, he's got personality.

What the fuck!

Forty-two back, quick!

Forty-two, what you're doing?

Keeping me or throwing me out?

Go back to your place.

Right. We've been waiting for one hour.

- How many of us are there? - Take up your sign!

Sweep the floor as well?

You dummy. Make up your minds, guys.

I'm unemployed, I've got lots of things to do.

Here a recent picture of Richard Vallon.

Taken... two years ago. Since then, our candidate is unemployed.

And his wife here, is very, very ill.

She's got cancer.

Oh... Unemployment plus cancer might be too much, don't you think?

- IQ? - Low.

Oh, that's a good point. If everybody agrees, I'll keep him.

François Jacquemard, now. Age 32. Elevator repairman.

Modest origins, his father was a mailman.

The myth of the mailman is enduring.

You warm to the guy at once, don't you?

An uneventful childhood, grade school, First communion, technical high school.

First communion is great. It'll draw all the grannies.

First job at eighteen. First love. Here it is.

Broken at nineteen by his dramatic departure for military service.

- And in the army? - He was a noncom when discharged. Good marks...

But on his return, he consorts with left wing activists.

- What? - He's even arrested by the Police.

A picture from the criminal records.

I don't like that. The army really is the crucible of all vices.

Nothing serious. He was soon back in line.

Since then an ordinary life as a specialized technician.

With his football team.

He's been employed for four years

and worked satisfactory... Until last week.

- What happened? - Redundancy.

- His private life? - Uneventful.

Marianne Marcel, his girlfriend for three years. Works for a hauling company.

She's a lovely girl. She looks healthy, smiling, well... healthy.

Working-class, ok.

- And the morality investigation? - Very positive.

Hardworking, pleasant, nice are words common to all testimonies.

The girl's the reason why...

I'm in favour of Jacquemard's candidacy.

- So am I. - Agreed.

- Something's bothering you, Mallaire? - No, no, but...

I don't know... It's in his eyes, or in his expression.

Something arrogant, don't you think? What's his IQ?

Very much above average.

That may be why you think he looks arrogant.

Well... I yield to your argument, but I'm warning you, I can feel it,

let me tell you, this guy is a pain in the arse.

- The lobster, madam. - The lobster, madam...

I don't like that money, François.

Aren't we feeling good here?

I do feel good, but what is that money?

Why do you need to know where the money's from?

Can't you just enjoy it? Is that impossible?

It's miracle money. Is that answer acceptable?

And what does "miracle money" mean?

I signed a contract with CTV. Do you know them?

On Sunday, I'm on the Somersault show,

if I win, I'm on for The Prize of Danger.

They gave me $3000 in advance, that's the miracle.

It's not true? Is this a joke or have you gone completely mad?

$20.000 on Sunday and one million eight days later.

Soon we'll sit under palm trees.

How do we go there? In a coffin?

You have no chance making it alive, François.

Just look at the others, none of them finished the show.

Once, you said you love me because I'm different.

So, did you lie?

I thought about it, all or nothing.

No more living like rats.

We've been working for ten years and what?