Life Is a Bed of Roses (La vie est un roman)

LIFE IS A BED OF ROSES

Love...

Love...

Love...

They're all here.

I nearly didn't make it... I only got the invitation Thursday.

We had to alter our plans.

We must be in Siberia!

No, madame, it's the Ardennes Forest.

Jean!

Yes, ma'am.

Is she dead?

It was before that. In the 80s...

- He has no sense of direction. - Unfortunate, for a chauffeur!

Well, Forbek,

here we are.

Thanks for coming!

Raoul, my friend!

Livia! Come!

- May I, sir? - No.

My friends,

for you are all old, dear friends.

Wether we were school mates, or met in some distant land,

over the years, we've traded ideas and plans.

I know some of yours.

You all know the one I've always cherished.

that dream, thanks to a stroke of fate,

the death of a loved one,

can now come true, right here!

I bought the land, the woods around it.

Work will begin in a month. Our friend Patinier did the plans.

What do you mean?

- Is it a castle, a palace? - A palace... a castle...

A castle? More like a temple...

the temple of happiness...

Livia...

My friend.

Since you'll be its priestess,

you do it.

Model for Michel Forbek

This will be your home as well as mine.

When it's finished, we'll meet for a huge party,

and we'll celebrate my marriage to my chosen,

my beloved fiancée, Livia!

Saturday, January 3, 1914

Come back soon!

Be good.

Good-bye.

You're sure this isn't too fast? Because...

Don't worry, Miss Rousseau. Besides, we're there.

So that's it.

I'm told Mrs. Holberg's method is interesting.

It's... different,

a modern idea. The kids don't do any work.

One pays, too... And through the nose...

It's not for our kids.

Will you teach here?

No, it's a private school. I'm a public-school teacher.

We're taking part in a sort of conference on education.

I'm taking advantage of the All Saints holiday.

Old-timers still call it the castle, as they did 60 years ago.

It never got finished! They began it before 1914,

then the war came, and they ran out of money,

and that's how it was left.

My dad knew the guy who built it:

a foreigner... Peruvian, Yugoslav, I don't know.

He had mines... Gold, oil, diamonds, I never knew.

Lots of people came to see it,

socialites, magnificent women: Don't see that kind any more.

Then he left. The place was deserted.

In 36, it was a youth hostel. The Gestapo had it during the war.

Now it's Mrs. Holberg's school.

I'd like to give this conference a tone...

My dear Elizabeth!

Georges!

How's your mother?

We're waiting for the lab results.

Come meet some of our friends.

Robert Dufresne, our guardian angel.

He arranged for us to have our seminar

in this remarkable building,

typical of early 20th century symbolist architecture.

Elizabeth Rousseau, a teacher whose ideas will surprise you.

Welcome to "Imagination of Education"...

Oops! Reverse that.

He likes to horse around.

Rev. Jean Watelet.

Father...

Call me Jean.

We need a hand here.

Well, Robert!

Light as a feather. Your toilet articles?

Jean! Watch out for your back!

Careful! Not so high!

Easy does it. Be careful!

Mr. Dufresne!

Must I remind you of the agreement?

You can't bring "that" into the castle.

Dear Mrs. Holberg...

Ladies, gentlemen, young folk, sorry to seem inhospitable.

But does liberty consist in ignoring our rights and duties?

This needed saying. Now I've said it.

There remains the more agreable task of bidding you welcome.

Mrs. Holberg, who heads our school.

We must understand each other. Our methods may differ.

We've a common aim: to turn children into men worthy of the name,

a new breed who may make this world "of sound and fury"

into one of beauty, harmony, love.

Where do we put it?

Leave it outside!

You can't do that.

- In the dining hall? The conservatory? - Miss Obertin, stay out of this.

It's between the conference and the school.

- You teach here. - So I'm attending the conference.

That's only one of your duties.

You're minding the children staying on over the holiday. Well, do it!

There are only three. I can...

I'm tired of having to repeat this:

true liberty...

It's Walter Guarini!

It's Guarini!

Walter Guarini...

Georges Leroux?

You're like your writing.

My letters were typed.

I meant, you're like your letter-writing style.

What trash!

How's that?

Is that thing edible?

- Can you eat it? - What?

It's not architecture, it's pastry.

Thanks for coming. I'm very happy.

I was determinated to have you here.

You confer a wider scope on our conference:

interdisciplinary... and international.

I haven't received my check yet.

- Where's Nora? Not here yet? - Nora Winkle? She'll be here soon.

Fine.

Dear friends, let us be proud.

We have with us the man who may change people by changing their cities.

Mrs. Holberg, who devised the Holberg method.

Welcome to Holberg!

Hans Siegfried Holberg! I envy you for having known that great man,

but I envy him more because you were his wife.

- What now? - Careful! I'm letting go.

Don't fool around.

Go on, don't just stand there.

Back to work! Inside you go! I'll be right with you.

Careful, children! Cross in front.

Mrs. Holberg... Natalie. See? I even know your first name.

- Excuse me. - Of course.

Thanks, sir. I'm very grateful.

Five years ago, I thought I'd marry on the day I opened this house.

Men's folly dictated otherwise.

How many of those who worked on my project are still alive?

How many died atrociously?

First, the architect,

Patinier, killed in the battle of Charleroi.

Laferrière, killed on the Somme. Marquet, Grumbert...

Trévoux, killed in '17 at Salonika.

Empires have fallen, fortunes, including mine, dwindled.

The woman I was to marry wed another.

I've traveled... a lot.

I almost dropped the project 100 times.

It still isn't finished.

But it is urgent to consecrate this temple of happiness.

A new kind of happiness!

A new happiness?

Then it's a celebration.

More like an... experiment.

Perhaps we should say, a journey.

Although we won't leave here.

This is going to be fun.

If the palace isn't finished, why not postpone things?

To when the paint is dry?

I could wait no longer.

You were wounded in the war? So was I. My soul was deeply wounded.

I waited, and waited.

I tried to still my pain, but I can't stand it any more.

I know I'm not the only one.

That's why I chose you,

because you're my friends. I know you.

Aren't we all wounded animals,

locking our teeth to keep from howling?

Four years of suffering made us murderers.

Of all the ties that bind us,

isn't this the strongest?

What does he want?

It's a game... He's having fun...

We must laugh...

And harmony?

Harmony...

Does harmony reign among us?

Not at all.

Harmony has fled from this world forever.

Nothing and no one are in their proper place.

That's why we're all unhappy.

Failure, betrayal,

lost illusions,

unfulfilled desires, plans awry.