Quadrille

Written by, Directed by, and Starring SACHA GUITRY

Come in.

- Here you are, sir. - Very good.

HOLLYWOOD HEARTBREAKER IN PARIS

Leave it here. I'll mark it up.

- Hello. - Madame.

Hello, darling.

- Ah, it's you. - Am I disturbing you?

Disturbing me? Never.

- Know why I'm here? - No, but I will soon.

Of course. I always tell you everything.

Lehman called me not long after you left.

What about?

He wants me to star in Lady of the Camellias again.

- I don't see the point. - It's a fantastic role.

But why play parts you've already played?

Play one of the new roles everyone wants to write for you.

I agree. But what should I tell him?

That we'll be on the Riviera then, which is true.

Good. This way we'll have our story straight.

It's only polite. Durmel!

- I'll be going. - Wait.

Get me an appointment with Carl Herickson tomorrow at 5:00.

I'd like to see him alone if possible.

Would you like to meet Carl Herickson, the most loved man in the world?

The most loved man in the world is the one I love.

You're very sweet,

but it could be a smart move to meet this great American star.

Hello, the Ritz Hotel?

Claudine André of The New York Herald.

I'd like an interview with Carl Herickson,

but I want to avoid a pack of reporters if possible.

Good. That sounds perfect. I'll hold.

Mr. Herickson receives by appointment only, sir.

Like ambassadors. All the better.

He'll see you at his hotel tomorrow at 5:00.

Tomorrow at 5:00 at the Ritz.

Carl Herickson's suite, please.

- You have an appointment? - Yes. Claudine André.

Claudine! I didn't recognize you.

How can we recognize you ladies under those adorable hats?

It's simply impossible. Are you well, my dear?

Very. I just ran into Paulette around 4:00.

I can do better than that. She came here with me.

Now she's gone for tea with Madame de Germond.

If I may be indiscreet, what are you doing here?

Same as you.

- Interviewing Carl Herickson? - Exactly.

An editor in chief personally attending to such an event?

Such events are rare these days,

and this one's of particular interest to me.

I'm planning a book on him. - No!

- Did L 'lntran send you? - No, The New York Herald.

On contract?

They've offered me a great one, but I hate traveling.

Of course. How far you've come in three years.

I consider you one of the best reporters in Paris.

You're much too kind.

No, I mean it. I like the way you think.

But you neglect me. Why?

Why not write more articles for me? What holds you back?

- Fear of abuse. - Don't be silly.

And the look you've put together!

Look in the mirror. Think how you were three years ago.

A hideous sight.

That's going a bit far,

but I don't even recognize you now.

Even your eyes are different.

They've seen a lot in three years.

It shows.

We men don't have you ladies' amazing ability to adapt.

You arrive looking like a country girl,

and a year later you look like a Parisienne.

Six months later, you're such a Parisienne

that you could pass for a foreigner.

Cigarette? You've even stopped smoking!

And your clothes are impeccable.

- Good Lord! - What?

Philippe complimenting a woman.

- It's not the first time. - It is for me.

- I've never paid you a compliment? - Never.

But you've made up for it. You just needed the occasion.

I'll plan more.

In fact, don't forget our luncheon on the 16th.

- Unfortunately I can't make it. - Why not?

Paulette invited you, didn't she? - Yes.

But I'm staying with relatives in Amiens then.

Blast your relatives in Amiens!

What a shame!

- It really is. - A double shame.

It's the party for Paulette.

I'd planned a fun little lunch.

I even intended on perhaps going a bit further afterward.

Further?

Is it safe to trust you with a secret?

If you want everyone else to know.

You're too hard on yourself. You're very discreet.

And you're too fond of Paulette to hide the truth from me.

The truth? Now I'm scared.

Don't be.

One moment.

Did you just decide this moment to confide in me?

Sure you won't regret it in five minutes?

No, I don't think so.

- Then I'm all ears. - Here it is:

Would Paulette be happy if I proposed?

- I have no idea. - She's never spoken of it?

Never even hinted at it.

But why not ask her?

I want to surprise her, but with something she desires.

If it's to be a surprise, better she not desire it.

Yes, but if she doesn't desire it... -

There's no point in marrying her.

Not exactly what I meant.

Listen, if my live-in lover of six years

suddenly proposed, I'd think,

"A faithless man with a guilty conscience."

No, not Paulette.

She'd think, "He no longer trusts me."

It's true. Men don't cheat on their mistresses.

They think they've missed out, and they're inconsolable.

Are you sure you won't regret your missed opportunities?

Missed opportunities?

I will... - when it's too late. - And when is too late?

Perhaps soon.

The day a woman says no

by putting her hand between her lips and mine... -

Heaven help us. - Excuse me.

The gentleman locked the door to his second bedroom,

so I have to come through here.

His second bedroom?

He has two?

Yes, though there's no luggage in the second yet.

Everyone's intrigued, including me.

Here he is!

Please come through the tearoom.

Well?

Yes, but I don't share your enthusiasm.

He's handsome, but no more.

- But that's everything. - It is not!

Is beauty vital to a man? - Yes.

Intelligence, merit, and health, yes, but not beauty.

Fine if one's lover is handsome,

but beauty alone? Never!

Since you didn't ask for mine, I must have yours.

- Not bad, thank you. - Please have a seat.

Sorry I'm late, but I couldn't help it.

I can't take 10 steps here without 100 people following me.

It's delightful, of course, but dreadful too.

And this awful craze for autographs!

Tea, port, or whisky?

- Nothing, thanks. - Where was I?

Autographs.

- Don't you find it silly? - I wouldn't know.

The scraps of dirty paper they push at you,

and the pens with no ink, and the sad-Iooking pencils.

On that topic, something funny just happened.

I just passed through the tearoom.

The manager implored me to.

All the women stood and applauded.

Charming.

Then the autographs started.

They'd all stood up except one.

A young, curious woman,

with a lovely face but a slightly frightened look.

She's all I saw as I signed and signed.

I looked at her and smiled, and she blushed.

So I went over and held out a scrap of paper

that an old woman had just given me, and I said,

"Since you didn't ask for mine, I must have yours."

She smiled and signed her name.

I don't know where it's gone, but she was quite surprised.

Cigarette?

May I?

Try one. They're custom-made.

With pleasure.

Isn't he a nice fellow?

I'm going on and on. You probably have questions.

Aren't you here to interview me?

Yes, but you've already answered all my questions.

That doesn't sound good.

Not at all. Don't worry.

- You have any questions, miss? - Three or four.

My age, place of birth, and annual income?

No, I read all that a dozen times in today's papers.

I was kidding, but go ahead.

Do you have talent?

How much of a film's success is due to the director?

And are women better naked or dressed?

Neither naked nor dressed.

Undressed, then?

When I do the undressing.

As for the director's contribution to a film's success:

It's considerable if the material's bad, because he's saved it.

It's about 30% if the material is good.

But if it's a masterpiece, he could easily ruin the whole thing!

I agree.

As for my talent, it's not much.

They tell me, "Do nothing. Just say your lines."

For the... - What's the French for... -