Querelle

anoXmous

The thought of murder often evokes thoughts...

of the sea and of sailors.

What naturally follows thoughts of the sea and murder...

is the thought of love or sexuality.

Hey! Closing time!

Didn't you understand me, Robert? It's closing time!

Then lock the door.

Robert is staying with me.

What did you say?

You heard me. Robert is staying here with me tonight.

What do you think of that?

Of what?

After all, she's still your wife.

You think I should be jealous?

- It would be normal. - Maybe, but what's normal?

We got a deal:

Lysiane does what she feels like...

and leaves me free to do what I want, understand?

That's important for me.

- Chicago! - Indeed.

Anyway, I want to read his cards. Right, kiddo?

Hope you know what you're doing.

You know I know what I want.

You've lost, Mario.

Then let's have another drink.

You have a brother?

So what?

You never mentioned him.

Why should I?

You're very much alike, aren't you?

That's what other people say...

but it isn't true.

Querelle is a sailor.

Maybe it's true.

And you love one another...

more than you'd like to.

Bullshit.

We're brothers...

and that's all there is to it.

Why are you shaking your head?

I don't know why...

but your brother is in great danger.

In danger? What kind of danger?

In danger of...

finding himself.

It's difficult to brush past those shoulders...

profiles, curls...

those strong and supple boys...

without imagining them capable of murder.

Finally, land.

And broads!

Juicy cunts. Hot and wet.

- Have you been in Brest before? - Why?

Because they've got the raunchiest whorehouse in the world.

The Feria.

Right. That's the name of the place.

Any of you guys know it?

- Yeah, but only from what I've heard. - And what have you heard?

Nothing specific.

They say every trick has to throw dice with the boss...

if he wants to catch a hooker.

Nono. That's the name of the Feria boss.

That's right. Nono.

Why do they have to throw dice?

That's the rule.

When you win, you get to have your pick.

When you lose, you have to let the boss fuck you first.

Really?

Really, and I'm damn sure there's plenty of guys who kinda like losing.

- If it turns them on. - So what?

Once I have suffered the solitude caused by my peculiarity long enough...

it may be that naked I will hold these boys...

who shatter me with their audacity and strength, against my body.

Though I hardly dare believe it.

With tears in my eyes, I thank God for granting me this bliss.

My tears soften me.

I melt with their wetness on my cheeks. I toss.

I roll in waves of tenderness for these boys...

and their hard, shallow cheeks.

Querelle's great passion is his own body in repose.

It is as if he's reflecting himself in his own image.

He's looking at himself as if through a magnifying glass.

He's scrutinizing the minute events like an etymologist.

But how shining is his body in the glory of his proud movements?

Your boots, sir.

Leave them there.

Anything else, sir?

No, thank you.

Since they themselves wished to deny it...

the strange resemblance of the two brothers...

seemed attractive only to others.

They met only in the evenings, as late as possible...

in the one bed of a room...

near the one in which their mother had lived in poverty.

Perhaps they met again in their love for their mother...

but at such a deep level...

that they could not see it at all.

How long have you been in Brest?

Since yesterday.

Never thought I'd run into you here.

I'm the lover of the boss, Lysiane...

and have been for the last six months.

- What about her husband? - He's got interests of his own.

Why did you come here?

Got a little business to take care of. I'm looking for a customer.

- Opium? - Yeah, that's right.

No sweat. Nono's the contact you want.

I'll introduce you.

What about the cop with him?

He's part of the furniture. He ain't a cop in here.

Just the opposite.

He's our safety guarantee.

This is Querelle, my brother.

He has a deal for you.

He's all right.

Hello.

Good evening.

What's the deal?

Opium.

Five k's.

Ten thousand dollars.

You got it.

Cash.

Of course.

Querelle was frozen by Mario's gaze.

More than indifferent...

Mario's gaze and stance were glacial.

At the same time, Querelle was struck by the owner's extraordinary strength...

and the cop's beauty.

Never before had he experienced true rivalry...

with which he had faced in these two.

There's nothing fishy about this, is there?

You don't have anything to worry about with me.

You bring the merchandise and you get the bread. Okay, buster?

And don't let Mario worry you. Mario's part of the furniture.

Querelle had no doubt that the realm over which this fellow ruled...

was a terrestrial one.

But was it possible the police could be so handsome, so rich?

Let's have a drink!

When will you be here?

I got to figure how I'm gonna get the stuff out, but I'll manage that.

I don't want to get involved in no shit.

Don't wanna burn my fingers.

You want to dance with me?

Sure, why not?

My name's Lysiane.

I own the place.

You don't say.

I'm Robert's brother.

I know.

A penny for your thoughts, Querelle.

I acknowledge the existence of authority in Mario.

I note his objective gestures.

Objectivity is the companion of total power.

It holds sway over unchallengeable moral authority.

It's a perfect social organization.

You win.

I get the feeling you're pissed off.

It isn't my fault my sister didn't show up.

You could have arranged for her to get here.

I couldn't, Gil. I swear it.

You know perfectly well how much I like Paulette.

You like her, eh?

And you think that's funny, Roger?

Tell me if you think that's funny!

You know...

I really want to make it with your sister.

Can you imagine how I'd fuck her if I held her like I'm holding you now?

You're Gil, Gilbert Turko, a Pole.

You haven't been working too long as a mason...

and you often lose your temper.

She really turns me on.

Man, would I screw her.

You got the same chops.

You got the same eyes.

Pity you're not her.

What are you going to tell her?

I'll do my best to get her to come tomorrow.

Querelle was not used to the idea that he was a monster.

Ayoung man, he knew the terror of being alone...

caught in the world of the living.

Bravo! Bravo!

You know, for a little girl, you sing that song just like a big boy.

Hurry up, baby. Go on after your girl!

Otherwise she's gonna drown herself!

Good to see you.

Why?

Got a job for you, like the one back in Beirut.

Opium?

Right.

I'm going ashore tomorrow afternoon.

At night I'll drop a rope over the wall to the dock...

to the right of the customs house.

At 6:00 you take a boat, tie the package to the rope...

then go back through customs.

We'll meet later back above.

How much?

Three hundred.

It's okay with me.