The Grand Illusion (La Grande illusion)

Are you going to Epernay?

- When? - In a half hour.

By lorry? Then give me a lift.

- Right. Josephine? - Yup!

- You've no monopoly! - who cares!

Marechal, you've got to take up a staff officer.

He's picked a rotten time.

- Josephine again? - Yup!

Where will that get you?

She'll have to wait, that's all.

Alcohol kills! Alcohol drives yon mad!

The squadron leader drinks it!

This is Captain de Boeldieu of Divisional Command.

Have you seen this photo, Mr Marechal?

Ricord and I took it.

And where is this... Mr Ricord?

- On leave. - Of course.

That little grey spot worries me...

There, below the road.

- That's a canal, not a road. - No, a railway.

Such unanimity is a tribute to our photography.

It was misty.

Still, I'd like to clear up the mystery.

I'll order a plane.

I'll go and get ready, Sir.

Flying suit or jacket?

I don't mind, one smells, the other moults.

The fighter squadron, please.

Drive fast to the sugar refinery.

I shot down a French plane.

If the crew are officers,

invite them here for lunch.

Make us one of your famous fruit punches.

To celebrate my shooting down my second plane.

No Careless talk! The enemy is listening

Two officers, one wounded, so I took him to the first-aid post.

Captain von Rauffenstein, 21 Squadron.

- Captain de Boeldieu, Staff HO. - Pleased to meet you.

Lieutenant Marechal, pilot.

Sorry about your arm.

My officers.

I am honoured to have French guests.

Now, gentlemen, let us dine.

I knew a Boeldieu in Berlin,

Count de Boeldieu.

My cousin, Edmond de Boeldieu.

He was Military Attache.

He is a pilot now...

Not hungry?

I can't cut up the meat.

- May I? - Thank you.

You speak good French.

I worked as an engineer in Lyons.

Really! I'm in eng... engineering...

To Captain de Crussol, french Air force,

shot down in flames

From the German officers of 21 Squadron

I regret this coincidence.

May the earth lie gently on our gallant enemy.

I have come for the prisoners.

PRISONER-OF-WAR CAMP No 1 ?

OFFICERS CAMP

Officers will be treated with the consideration due to their rank.

However, you are reminded that you are under German military law.

You will therefore submit to German discipline.

Every German soldier in the camp may give you orders.

And you will obey without protest.

You will salute German officers.

At any attempt at escape, sentries have orders to fire on officers

outside the camp boundary.

Incorrect dress is not permitted.

Strictly forbidden!

It is forbidden to form groups or insult the German nation...

to write or speak to civilians...

Strictly forbidden!

It is forbidden to speak to sentries.

Come with us to attend to some formalities.

Russian names decline, like in Latin.

- Newcomers. - Better warn them.

Pure angel, radiant angel

Hide your gold!

Go on! Get into your rooms!

- What did they say? - To hide our valuables.

Leave it alone, it's mine.

I've nothing on me.

I'd no idea I was coming. Sorry.

Where are your manners?

Sorry, it's our duty, this is war.

Agreed, but even so let's remember our manners.

Otherwise I shall consult the Commanding Officer.

Open it.

How are you doing, pal? Not bad at all, eh?

Here, Muller. You'll take some chocolate, won't you?

You've no right to open my ham!

It's regulations!

It's bad! You can have it!

He's too finicky!

I'm delighted each time my parents send me a parcel.

Here we are, in the heart of Germany,

miles behind the front...

And a tin of peas arrives from Paris.

- All right, then? - Fine.

What astonishes me is their honesty in handing over the parcels.

It's a fact.

Feldwebel Arthur stuffs himself with cabbage every day.

Gives him chronic indigestion.

He'd much rather tuck in to your peas.

Don't kid yourselves.

They wouldn't risk the parcels stopping.

They're hard put to feed themselves.

Hurry up, our guests will be hungry.

Same old thing! Old boots again!

What are the French eating?

Cabbages, but they've their parcels.

- Russians? - Cabbage roots, but no parcels.

- The English? - Plum pudding.

In peace-time I was an actor...

in the Halls.

- Ever see me? - The theatre's too serious for me.

I prefer cycle racing.

You ever follow it?

You must have heard of the champions.

Can we buy what we like?

Yes, through the canteen.

Fine, I shall buy an armchair...

playing cards, books, English cigarettes...

You won't find those!

I'll try and come tomorrow, Sir.

Gentlemen, dinner is served.

What shall we begin with?

Cold chicken, pâté de foie...

mackerel in wine?

Quite a menu!

Don't they feed us?

They do in theory, in fact it's uneatable.

Fortunately there are our parcels, especially Rosenthal's.

Please...

A drop of cognac as an aperitif?

Why not?

I've never eaten so well in my life!

- Some fish? - Yes, please.

I'm starting to take Rosenthal's kindness for granted.

It shows man is a creature of habit.

No need to tell you he's a teacher.

Teach... preach...

Screech... leech...

Bloody hell!

Quite a joker!

Are we supposed to find that witty?

He's particular!

This calls for a drink!

Good cognac.

From Fouquet's, disguised as a mouthwash.

Fouquet's?

It's a bar on the Champs-Élysées.

In Paris, I ate at my brother-in-law's.

It's less expensive.

- Been in Paris lately? - A week ago.

Lucky chap! Many people there?

Maxim's was crowded.

I never go to places like that...

I prefer a quiet spot... with good wine.

- Maxim's... never been there. - You're not missing much.

We know you eat at your brother-in-law's.

- Hey! - what is it?

Is he there... the monocle?

I've just come from the canteen. About his armchair...

Nothing doing.

I'll tell him.

Nice chap, the one with the parcels. well-off, too.

- You bet! - You know the Rosenthal bankers?

That's his family.

Am I tickling?

What's he do?

He's a dress designer.

Funny idea. If I'd all that money...

what did you do in civvy street?

Engineer, Ordnance Survey.

Between ourselves... Can your pal, the Captain, be trusted?

He may seem odd, but he's a decent chap.

You can trust him all right.

- Fine, then. - why?

You see... we're digging a tunnel.

What for?

To escape.

What do you dig with?

With a coal shovel, old cans...

we should come up in a garden...

behind those buildings... It's open country.

Slow work.

We've been at it for two months. we only need a few more weeks.

The war'll be over first!

That's an illusion.

Think so?

Best to be prepared.

Where's the tunnel?

You'll see tonight, after roll-call.

So you're digging a hole...

like Monte Cristo, what a laugh!

Thanks for your help.