On ne meurt que deux fois

YOU ONLY DIE TWICE

These are designer spans.

Frankly, I don't care. He's just a bum.

A bum who wears designer spam. can't be just a bum.

He found them in a dumpster.

These spars in a dumpster?

Superintendent, your career advancement is a mystery to me.

Don't piss me off, Staniland.

What's so special about these spats?

My dear boy, look at this cut,

the delicate hem,

the quality of the buttons...

The guy in those Spats. what could he be?

A retired colonel, a clown?

Maybe a dancer at the Moulin Rouge?

Maybe a spy?

"Charles Berliner, musician"

I wonder what he played.

I'd like to learn to play the accordion or the saxophone.

It's almost the same. Only with the sax, you blow inside.

I've had enough of your silliness. It's freezing here.

I expect your report by noon, at 1 pm on my desk!

A single death doesn't concern Superintendent Bauman.

He only cares about massacres, hostage taking...

things that make headlines.

He's a real jerk.

Isn't your boss a bit weird?

He's a master of asides and quotation marks.

Did you hear his thoughts on the saxophone? Brilliant.

Let's go.

He got himself in a fine mess.

Did they drop him from the airplane?

I don't think so.

One doesn't die quickly with a look like that.

It's as if he wanted to keep a memory...

of God-knows-who that he'd take with him to God-knows-where.

- Who are you talking to? - Not you.

- What did he die of? - Everything.

First they broke his fingers,

then his legs, smashed his left kneecap,

then rammed into his rib cage...

The final blow was delivered to the frontal lobe with a blunt object.

What could provoke such hatred?

The more I look, the more I get an impression

that Charles Berliner yells silently.

I hear you, Chartie.

He won't yell here for long.

We'll fill him with formalin, put him in a drawer and shut the drawer.

And goodbye, Charlie.

You see, guys...

Dying isn't the hardest part, it's afterwards...

to lay before guys like you...

We won't leave you to these jerks, Charlie...

No way!

- Mrs. Berliner... - Yes...

When I told you about your husband's death, you responded: "I knew it."

I dreamed it.

It was in a big garden... with roses...

Charles came from under the arbor and reached out to me.

Then suddenly his face became blurry

and his hands were covered with blood...

He said "Goodbye, Margo" and fell down...

I had this dream on Friday night.

Your husband died on Friday.

Would you like a drink, Inspector?

No, I don't want to bother you. Were you going out?

Not really. Well, I was going to meet with a friend.

We were going to have a drink to pass the time.

At the Bar des Artistes.

A musicians' place. Charles loved it. Maybe you know it?

No, I don't know much about bars or music.

What instrument did Charles play?

He played the piano, of course. He was great.

His talent bothered him.

He was wasting it.

He made fun of himself.

Here is a picture from the happy days.

It was in I'lsle-Adam.

We rented a house there so he could work.

But Charles was restless there.

He went out like a meteor.

I should have never let him go.

I want to talk about him. I really want to.

Scotch, cognac, martini?

Why are you looking at me?

You remind me of a lovely lady I used to know.

She also drank cherry liqueur.

I see.

I thought you'd say you don't drink on duty.

No, it's a line from the movies, Mrs. Berliner.

All cops drink on duty.

I'll have a cognac.

My God, why did he leave?

He was fed up with the piano, the concerts...

fed up with being here, with me.

He was a wonderful lover.

I just couldn't keep him.

At that time, he hooked up with that slut Barbara.

Who's that?

A police officer.

Inspector Staniland.

The Inspector came to tell me Charles is dead.

So what?

At least, at the cemetery, we'd know where he is.

Maybe we'll see him more often than before.

My son Eric. Charles was his stepfather.

I'm a love child, dear Inspector.

A love child in a society without love.

My mother didn't tell you about her fling?

How she met Daddy...

When was the last time you saw your stepfather?

Why the fuck you wanna know?

He was murdered. I'm investigating.

I don't give a fuck.

I asked you a question.

I gave you my answer.

- Yes? - I'm looking for Charles Berliner.

Go straight ahead. In the alley, on your right...

there's a staircase and the door on top of it...

with no sign.

Not hard to miss...

Damn.

I have to fuck you... Do you hear me, Barbara?

To fuck you right now on the table... through your panties.

Oh yeah!

I have to fuck you, Barbara...

right now on the table... through your panties...

Oh yeah, like that... don't move...

You're great.

I was already drinking when I was still with Margo...

to keep her company, now I drink hard.

That night at the Pub Royal, I was dead drunk.

Mark beat me up in the crapper and then he left with Barbara.

Everyone in the bar was overjoyed.

I'm sure this moron will kill me some day.

Usually, Barbara falls asleep in a bad mood and wakes up in a bad mood.

This morning she was in a good mood.

I was stupid enough to talk about tenderness.

She suggested I'd buy a teddy bear.

Then she went out, slamming the door.

How anyone can be

so beautiful and so disgusting at the same time?

That is to say, maybe...

I talk because my heart and mind are empty...

I was dead drunk...

Mark beat me up in the crapper and then he left with Barbara.

Everyone in the bar was overjoyed.

I'm sure this moron will kill me some day.

Everyone in the bar was overjoyed.

I'm sure this moron will kill me some day.

Hello.

What are you doing here?

And you?

I'm a cop.

My name's Robert Staniland.

Coworkers (all me Bob,

Women call me Bobby.

And you are?

I'm Barbara.

Barbara Chalon.

Barbara is good, Chalon isn't so great.

It's the name of my ex-husband. He wasn't so great either.

I asked what you're doing here.

You really want to know?

Yes.

I came to get my things that of no interest to others.

No, the police is also interested now.

You knew Charles Berliner well?

Yes, really well.

He was murdered on Friday night.

I know it.

- Don't tell me you dreamed it. - No.

So how do you know?

Because I murdered him.

Closed.

I need a glass of water to take my drops.

I told you we're closed.

I was prescribed to take 5 drops 3 times a day with some water

for my hypertension.

If you're looking for kicks, maybe I can help you...

If you're looking for trouble I can oblige you.

- This will do? - All right.

A guy in gray spats, sounds familiar?

You think I spend all these nights looking at the customers' feel?

Charles Berliner rings a bell?

Charlie? I haven't seen him for at least two days.

I saw him.

- Where? - In the morgue.

That explains it.

No, it doesn't explain everything.

It doesn't explain why a certain Mark beat him up.

Here? This place?

Seems like it.

This water is disgusting.

Warm.

Funny, I didn't figure you out. I thought I knew all the cops' tricks.

They come here looking for a girl or a payoff.

But to come here to take their drops is something new.

So you don't know this Mark?

And Barbara?