What Love May Bring AKA What War May Bring (Ces amours-là)

For 50 years, I've tried to share my love of movies.

To mark this anniversary with my 43rd film,

I offer you WHAT LOVE MAY BRING.

Any resemblance to people living or dead is intentional.

I dedicate these bits of fact to you and my 7 children.

WHAT LOVE MAY BRING

What's that?

A machine to recreate life.

What is it called?

The Lumière Cinematograph.

Want to try? Put your hand here...

You're as lovely as the new century.

It's a boy!

Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

I must admit that for the first time in my career,

I have stage fright.

The question I put to you is:

What will you do?

Yes, Ilva Lemoine shot and killed a man.

But let's go back in time.

From 1920 to 1930, during the "Roaring Twenties,"

my client's mother was a hooker,

porn actress, communist and single mother...

A cumbersome legacy, indeed...

So yes, she had to flee Italy with young Ilva,

and arrived in Paris in 1936.

You say you fled Italy...

But why?

Because of a man.

- A man? - Yes.

Mussolini!

Good heavens, no!

My daughter's father.

You have a daughter?

Yes, Ilva!

That's your daughter?

- She's grown up! - It's her first dance.

I'm so glad.

Her name is Ilva, like the steelworks.

So this desperate Italian woman

set her sights on a decent guy, very decent, even...

Projectionist at Eden Palace in Paris.

Ilva's mother had found the man of her life

and most of all, a father for my client.

When you asked me to dance

I was afraid you'd choose my friend.

She's not the sort of woman

I'd marry.

Oh, really?

Is this the first time anyone's proposed to you?

No, but this time,

I'm tempted to say yes.

Even if I don't know who you are.

I run this cabaret

where you often come to dance.

Even in Berlin they danced to "Stormy Weather."

Stormy weather it was.

They were dancing on a volcano.

In 1937, Horst Buchner, intellectual,

music lover, owner of the Blue Angel, had just seduced his future wife

amid a decadent crowd of homosexuals,

transvestites and brownshirts.

Now to Harlem's Cotton Club

and a key figure in this trial, Bob Kane.

This cabbie and boxer, that evening in 1940,

fought and tied with future world champ Rocky Graziano.

You'll agree that such an exploit

entitled him to dance with a famous Hollywood starlet,

who in the 50s would become an American icon.

Now the central figure of this tragedy:

Jim Singer.

He too danced to "Stormy Weather" in 1942 in NYC,

with one of his many conquests.

Jim had it all:

looks, luck, a Swiss education...

He spoke perfect French.

He was one of the world's richest men.

Not only heir to Isaac Singer,

of sewing machine fame,

but also to an oil baron.

Still, Jim was bored, so bored

he went off to play with WWII,

like a spoiled kid with a new toy.

The prosecutor made my client out to be a femme fatale.

But it was the period that was fatal.

In 1942, I too played "Stormy Weather."

I hadn't chosen between being a lawyer or a pianist.

Those blankets are ridiculous!

The neighbors will leave us alone.

They complained about your piano again this morning.

Of course! It's a Jewish piano.

Why's that?

Steinway is Jewish.

- That's not funny, Simon! - Sure it is.

No, wait...

Listen to the theme I wrote this morning.

It's very short. I'll play softly.

I promise.

This morning at the Barbès metro station,

two Wehrmacht officers were murdered in a cowardly manner.

Twenty hostages, taken at random on the platform,

will be executed tomorrow at dawn

unless the terrorists come forward by midnight.

Stay tuned, in a few moments

you will hear Marshal Pétain,

Head of State.

Well?

Not so loud.

This is Field Marshal Pétain.

Frenchmen...

Piano!

"For 5 years you've been my life,

"the air I breathe.

"I spend all my time waiting for you,

"thinking you dead if you're late,

"dying at the thought you're dead,

"living again when you come home,

"and when you're finally home,

"scared to death you'll live..."

No, "you'll leave."

What'd I say?

"You'll live."

I'll never get it.

"...the ordeals and the grief..."

It is you who bear the brunt,

for in task of reconstruction I have undertaken,

I can do nothing without you

and your dogged effort.

You gave me your trust,

every day brings its moving testimony,

which for me is the greatest comfort.

In exchange I have given you all my affection.

Salomé, I've told you not to wear wedding gowns that aren't yours.

"It's bad luck."

That's for sure!

Once I tried one on,

and ended up an old maid.

So you work on Shabbat now, too!

I don't get it: we've never done so many weddings.

As if war brought people closer.

With all these weddings,

you haven't lent me the sewing machine in three weeks!

Sorry, Madame Dubois. Be patient.

And the hours

Wouldn't feel so cold

If my arms

Had something warm to hold

Try to see his office.

And when you feel the night approach

Full of silence and shadow

You'd like to see the Lord reach out

To hold it back from falling low

Solitude, no, it doesn't scare me

When the sun

Is in my eyes

But in the dark of blackest night

I'd prefer someone by my side

Don't you want me to come?

A woman alone has a better chance.

I'll wait here.

Hello.

What do you want?

I have information about the metro attack.

Don't stand there.

My love...

For good.

The meeting must be off.

Excuse me.

Mademoiselle?

You wish to see me?

I have information about this morning's metro attack.

Where did you learn German?

At school.

I also speak Italian and English.

I hope to be an interpreter.

In other circumstances, I could hire you to work here.

Indeed.

That girl ticks me off, the one across the street

Sitting at the café terrace She thinks they're at her feet

With her dark glasses and that pouting lip...

I agreed to see you

as you had information about the terrorists.

Papa's a hostage. Please spare him.

Why should I?

He's not a Jew, a red or a rebel. Just innocent.

Like all hostages. That's the point.

Now, miss,

if you know nothing about the attack,

leave this office.

Please spare him.

He's all I've got.

Why would I do that?

For my pretty eyes?

Come-to-bed eyes, as they say?

You are

cynical.

I'll take his place.

Him or me, it's the same!

The two young officers killed in the metro

also had pretty eyes.