I called myself Albin Mercier, but my name is Andr Mercier.
I signed my books and articles under the name of Albin.
I was a modest writer, so much so that i was almost alone to be aware of that fact.
Not so long ago, I was in Germany, near Munich,
sent by a small daily newspaper.
I had to write about everyday life in Germany,
our past enemy and future ally.
It didn't pay well, but i didn't care.
I couldn t afford to be picky.
The rent was taken care of, but I had to pay the maid.
I'd been warned.
Not luxurious but decent.
Sad as death.
I was bitter yet glad.
Maybe...
more bitter than glad.
I spend the 2 first days strolling about the village.
It was a pleasant microcosm. Some workers, some farmers...
many land owners.
Tourists from Munich.
Nice houses kept open...
to be admired at any time.
I felt lonely.
Nobody would speak or look at me.
It was like being trapped in a desert.
I despised these houses.
I was a prisoner.
I had to pretend to speak german to get the job
but this was a lie.
I didn't speak a word of it.
What a looser.
Only one thing caught my attention.
A nice stone wall that protected the intimacy of a couple.
I tried asking the maid to learn more about it.
Behind the wall lived the famous Doctor Hartman.
Hartman.
The greatest writer of his time.
The hope for a new Germany.
I tried to get a glimpse at this rare bird.
He seemed like a nice fellow.
I wondered how I could arrange to meet him.
In the meantime, i had to earn my measly salary.
Everything was a bore, I wrote nonsense.
The maid jabbered on some complaints she had.
Always nagging, always in need of some kitchen tool I couln't make out.
I had to make a fool of myself in the shops.
Like a mute talking to a deaf.
Until one day, a stroke of luck...
She spoke french. She was french.
I should have guessed she was Mrs Hartman.
I worked my way into getting invited.
Her name was Helen.
Nice name.
I've been told about your presence here, Mr..?
Albin Mercier. But how..?
The arrival of a foreigner in a small village like this...
On the contrary I felt like i was being ignored...
You were being watched. You are the talk of the town.
What an honor. Excuse me.
Wait.
- Here. - Splendid.
I greatly admire your husband.
How nice of you.
I'm sure he'll want to meet you.
Why?
- Aren't you a writer too? - How do you know?
Don't tell me you've read my books?
No but I'm sure they are great.
Join us for a coffee this afternoon.
I'm speechless.
Don't be, if I invite you, that's because it's our pleasure.
If it annoys you, turn it down.
you make me shy.
Of course it'll be a pleasure...
- An honor? - An honor.
- I don't know how to thank you. - Let's say 2 o'clock.
- Can I drop you somewhere? - No thanks.
I like to walk. See you later.
Here I was, able to enter their home without difficulties.
Look at them, watch them.
I went there quite naturally, like an old acquaintance,
an old friend.
I felt giddy as a child for i had to improvise.
I had never read one of Hartman's books.
I instantly liked the house.
I felt comfortable, everything was calm and in harmony.
Everything was in perfect taste.
Andrea Hartman. I've read of of your books.
Very interesting.
We shared the same first name, but my lie forbade me to tell him.
Andre suggests we have our coffee outside.
Bravo.
The more I stayed with them, the better I felt.
They treated me as an old friend.
It was almost embarrassing.
Andre is glad I found someone to speak french with. He's not very fluent.
- Really? - Awful!
Thanks.
Cognac, thanks.
French!
I was struck by the masterful way this man and this woman
shared the load of the conversation.
Miracle of intelligence.
They turned langage barrier into a game.
They completed each other and smiled all the time,
happy to live together in this house,
to be here with me, chatting about things they cared for.
They showed me the fine politeness
of letting me make their acquaintance.
This was a real image of happiness so rare and precious
that beneath my pleasure growed an uneasiness
a state of tension that gained my entire body.
It has come to a point where
I have no idea what word will follow the next.
But what matters is that it is all in the favor of Europe.
They liked me, it was a fact.
Andre thinks it's the best way to go about it.
We parted later that afternoon, a smile on our faces,
planning future visits.
But the day was ruined by a catastrophe.
The stupid maid didn't think of shutting down the main pipe.
I had to do it myself.
All was left for her was to mop.
Hello Mr Mercier. How are you?
Hello Mr Mercier.
I saw them from afar each day, sometimes her, sometimes him.
I exchanged a few nice words.
They were fond of me.
So the invited me to dinner this time.
I brought an impressive flower bouquet
almost too impressive, but not quite.
Magnificent! Excellent choice.
I must confess i didn't choose them myself.
No, but you chose the man who chose for you.
Andre will tell you it boils down to the same.
What a terrible theory.
- He knows it. - What do I know?
Hartman insisted upon preparing the diner himself.
No doubt to prove he was a great writer but a simple man.
I found him rather ridicule.
Same thing.
The diner was simple and delicious.
And later on
as we sat in wonderful armchairs
enjoying his wonderful Cognac,
that i first experience that monstrous feeling
that were to guide me from now on.
I may be a looser but
one can't hold it against me not to be aware of it,
to nourish impossible dreams, to deceive myself.
As i experienced it, I was able to analyse that feeling
with a total lucidity.
It wasn't jealousy, for I didn't feel
no injustice or bitterness.
It was more a kind of envy
but so full, total, absolute and absorbing
that i knew it would lead me to violence.
So I knew perfectly well that my goal was to intrude
this happy couple's universe.
To be part of it, to cling to it like ivy to a wall.
To fill this man's shoes,
to replace the man who shared my first name.
To fully take his place
totally,
to fill in every corners.
I also knew this goal
was impossible to reach,
yet i was to waste all my strength on it.
I decided to strengthen the bonds
to see them all the time, make myself irreplacable.
But how to achieve that
in such a perfect rounded universe?
So perfect that it was the source of my obsession.
Andreas won the game easily that night.
He was glad.
From that moment on, I managed to see the regularly
When I wasn't invited, I invited them in return.
I didn't take them to fancy places,
for they knew I wasn't rich.
But I made no effort to appear to be.
I was joyful, simple, honest.
Quite the easy guy.
I had never been nicer before in my life.
But i suffered immensly
for I didn't make any progress.
I saw them more and more often, but had no real influence on them.
I merely slipped on the surface of their happiness.
Because of that, I had to fulfill smaller obsessions.
For instance,
I wanted to go to the first floor
to their bedroom and bathroom.
It would have been easy just to ask them
They would gadly have shown it to me.
But I wanted to go there uninvited,
to deceive them in a way.
So i used a scheme.
You are daydreaming, sad.
- I'm sorry. - it's the rain.
We are mediterraneeans, rain makes us sad.
- You are not sad... - No.
Germany is a green country.
Green all over.
On the map, it is green.
That's thanks to the rain.
The greenery.
- Good. - I'm sorry.
In fact i like rain.
How clumsy of me.
you hurt yourself!
You're mad. I'll get a bandaid.
- Does it sting? - No.
I'll get you a handkerchief.
Is this your room?
- Nice isn't it? - Lovely.
I smiled and was happy.
I had got what I wanted.
Through mischief.
But the next day, a bucket of cold water.
I felt something was going on.
I moved closer.
That's what i thought.
They had visitors and didn't ask me to come over.
They were having fun without me.
I was only good to entertain them.
The measly scribbler Mercier was only a fool to the great
the famous Andreas Hartman.
I was furious.
I decided to be a party pooper.
Discretly of course.
Tactfully.
- Are you the frenchman? - Yes madam.
I'll switch it off, excuse me.
Will you help me?
Thank you.
Hello Albin.
Hello.
- You write? - Yes.
Short stories?
Yes, articles, tales, small stories for better understanding.
Andre must be apalled.
- Andre must be hostile. - Andre is not hostile.
He is merely realistic.
He will explain it some day.
He decided to go to the lake this afternoon.
As soon as Andre has finished working.
The water is nice.
- I don't care for it. Only if it's extremely nice. - You are suspicious.
- Have a drink instead. - Yes, that i'll do.
- Whisky. - Yes.
I'll get it.
- You know Giska? - That's me.
She's yougoslavian. She has more trouble with the languages than you.
She can't speak german, and forgot her yogoslavian.
So she speaks french.
She's very popular around our american friends.
- Isn't that right Giska? - Yes.
I was surprised she greeted me so well.
She didn't find odd that I came uninvited.
Like it was usual, like I was always welcome.
I wondered if Andre would act the same way.
We ll go swimming.
Nice little Albin.
Nice little Albin, you not make long face like this, yes?
For a frenchman, you are not really gallant.
You stand in your corner
Not very polite.
"O time, suspend your flight! and you, happy hours"
"suspend your race"
"let us savor the fleet delights
of our fairest days!"
- Come little Albin. - No.
The water is so nice.
- Come on Albin. - No, thanks.
Come in the water.
Leave me alone. I can't swim...
Why didn't you say it?
I hated him.
I held him responsible for everything.
He humiliated me and I wanted revenge.
I conjured up a small vengence.
Make him pay back, without giving up my goal.
I wanted to regain my honor for my sake.
We went for a picnic.
What's the matter? Andreas wants to talk to me?
Yes. And he wants me to translate.
I gathered. Seems a bit formal.
Andre is always formal when he is serious.
He did some hard thinking during his life.
He believes he solved all of his problems.
He's a happy man.
And he realized the other day that it was not your case.
All that swinning business.
He thinks it left you with a bad memory.
He wants to know if you realize...
that it is your fault.
He asks if you are aware of that.
It doesn't matter.
What are you saying?
He says it matters immensly
and i told him you certainly don't realize that.
He says that you had told him that you couldn't swim,
and it would not have happened.
But you didn't dare.
You wanted to follow the others.
Entire populations are led this way.
This feeling is the source of all human depravities.
War is the consequence of that feeling.
Some say war is absurd.
It's not true.
Everything has it's reason.
The reason for war is for not accepting what we are.
That's also why a captured tuna bangs its head against the wall.
- Do you understand? - Yes.
The war left me a broken man.
It left me empty and hard.
For 15 years I drank to forget.
I worked and earned my living
but i was a wreck
and people pretended not to notice.
They thought I was foolish and quaint.
In fact i was nothing but a wreck.
I asked for nothing.
Telling me all this was obscene.
It was obvious, no need to tell me.
I'm fond of you.
Albin, your a bad swimmer but a good driver.
All their glee and happiness were irritating.
And he bored me with his succesful writer philosophy.
This day had been a real nightmare.
But something cheered me up.
Andreas was to leave the next day to give some lectures.
Lectures! About the true way to happiness, no doubt.
It was all for the best.
I suggested to spent the evening in a cabaret.
Hartman was cheerful.
After the ethics came the history lessons.
Munich, birthplace of nazism, destroyed by the war and rebuilt.
This man was obsessed with the war, with Hitler, with militarism.
He was so convincing that the city began to scare me.
Yet I couldn't care less about all this.
"Parisian nights", the Munich way.
This is a show that gave you food for thought.
I had to get ahead and I sensed this trip was the perfect opportunity.
From the good friend of good company that I was,
I had to become intimate.
I was so agreeable, so nice, so helpful.
But I could be more.
Infinitely more.
Given my friendship with Helene
and my deep sincere admiration for the famous Andreas Hartman.
In the meantime, the show didn't make them feel at ease.
It didn't bother them nor left them cold.
They were there, together, and everything slid off them.
And this night,the notion came to me to commit a crime.
Oh, a very small crime.
On their car.
I'm a patient man.
I waited for them to fall asleep and I went for it.
I left as I came and went to bed.
They were to leave by 9 am.
I was up by 7 am, to calm me down.
My plan was to work without a glitch.
It did.
They tried to start the car.
To no avail of course.
Andreas looked under the hood, but found nothing.
The great Hartman was a poor mechanic.
I began to get upset.
I prentended to walk by as by accident.
What's wrong?
We can't get the car started.
I'll give you a hand.
I don't know what it is.
But it's going to take some time.
I had better drive him myself.
That's very nice but...
It'd be happy to, in exchange for all your goodness.
Stop making me feel awkward.
Thank you Albin, thank you!
He was having fun, he felt I owed him that much.
I'll walk you to the car.
Thank you Albin.
What did he say?
He says he leaves you to take care of me.
Is it wise?
He thinks so.
The swimming incident ended up as a victory after all.
But i felt embarrassed.
I didn't know how to handle it.
The stake was huge and yet my mind was a muddle.
That return trip was very pleasant.
I discovered a very different Helene from the one I imagined.
She put me at ease in the most charming and subtle way.
Albin you are fascinating.
- Fascinating? - Yes.
I find you mysterious.
We discussed it the other night with Andre.
For instance, we tried to guess your age.
- My age? - Yes.
Sometimes you seem very young, and sometimes an elderly.
- Really? - Yes.
So how old are you, 20 or 40?
30 of course.
Well you never look 30. Either 20 or 40.
Well I was hiding it, but I'm in fact 75.
Today is my birthday and i'm taking you to lunch.
With great pleasure.
With her, everything was easy. We were like old friends.
I offered to fix the car
and took a nap in the shade of its engine.
Are those your feet?
And how!
I'm coming.
Will you have some tea?
I certainly deserve it.
I think it works.
Splendid, I almost lost hope.
- You really are mysterious. - Nothing mysterious about it.
I have always been keen on mechanics.
Let's sit down.
I'm filthy.
Work never gets you dirty.
I offer you a bath but teatime first.
I'll dirty the china.
China can't be dirtied.
Besides this is not a china cup.
Some cake.
I bathed and took Andreas's wardrobe that Helene nicely offered earlier.
At last, I had become their intimate friend.
We dined at home, at Helene's I mean.
A light meal for none of us was hungry.
I left around 11 pm.
She thanked me again and I said:
See you tomorrow.
I did not hurry back to my place.
Nice day.
So nice that my excitment kept me awake for some time.
I woke up late and forced myself to work till midday.
But this morning, my usually mediocre prose was downright sordid.
I couldn't hold it anymore and i went there.
The car and Helene were gone! - Is she gone to Munich?
What?
Gift.
What "gift" ?
The hell with you.
I couldn't make it out. I was furious.
She didn't mention anything.
Shut up old hag!
Even Elsa was gone. That bitch made the most of it.
She went home at 11 pm.
Her gifts weren't very heavy, her hands were empty.
I was upset.
She was hiding something, a secret.
She wasn't who she appeared, she was lying.
I decided to hit hard on the next morning, just to be sure.
I wanted to ask her to explain herself, but it would have been stupid.
I decided to act a little sad,
to intrigue her.
Hello Helene.
Hello Albin.
I woke up late yesterday. When i came by you were gone.
I had some business in Munich.
I could go, thanks to you.
- Thanks to me? - Yes, you fixed the car.
Sit down.
No, i'm fine.
You seem lost in your thoughts.
I'm a bit sad.
A few days moutain air can get you down.
It does that to me sometimes.
- May I sit on the floor? - Of course.
I couldn't intrigue her less.
She just followed my tune.
When i was gay, she was gay.
When melancholic, she became melancholic.
A real chameleon, a mask.
Or rather a series of masks, all of them convincing.
All af them easy on the interlocutor.
- Helene? - Yes?
I'm sorry if i'm sad today.
It s the mountain air.
No, i don't think so.
I think it's you.
Me? Why me?
It's all my fault. It's the way I am.
I can't hold you responsable for what I am.
What are you?
A looser.
Why do you say such things?
- You are exquisite. - Exquisite.
I'll make you a confession. I am poor.
- I was born poor. - So was I.
My father died when I was young. My mother...
Give me a cigarette.
I'm boring you...
Of course not, but you shouldn't torture yourself.
I don't.
Quite the opposite.
My mother provided for everything by making sacrifices.
I meant the world to her. And I was happy with her.
I loved her.
- She died? - Yes.
But it's something else.
I was a good son when she was alive.
But ... how to put it...
I wasn't the star pupil. I gave her no satisfaction.
I told her about me and tried be be sincere.
Not for the love of honesty but as a way to be persuasive.
Maybe if I acted sincere, she would reveal herself.
I only lied about what seemed necessary.
I was so confused, and she was so good and soft.
So understanding, you know?
She was my first love experience.
There were no other women before.
I never loved before.
Just my mother, this woman... and you.
- What was her name? - Her name was...
Marcelle.
It's nice of you to tell me this.
I'm madly in love with you Helene.
I only think about you.
Albin, you are nice, and I like you a lot.
It's getting cold, this wind is cooler than it appears.
- Let's go inside. - Yes.
How did she do it?
How can a woman push you away
so nicely that you don't even feel sad,
if you want to be sad or only want to appear so.
I wasn't even sad.
As always with her, it was harmonious.
For a moment I was afraid I had played my last card.
But in this armchair in the living room,
I found myself surrounded once more by the calm of familiar objects,
may they be borrowed or stolen.
This incident hadn't thrown me back one inch.
I was still a friend,
their friend,
This was a misfired shot.
Castanets.
I had feared facing Hartman.
If Helene told him about it as I feared,
this could be a tricky situation.
I didn't get that.
He was asking you how were those three days.
Her glance could mean only two things.
First: she didn't want me to mention my declaration,
but why should I,
or second: I was not to mention her absence two days earlier.
Suddendly the mirror cracked.
I became certain of one thing that filled me with anger.
Helene was cheating on her husband!
Lunch is served.
So this harmonious happiness I envied so
was all a web of cheats and lies.
Following her like this was a necessity and a satisfaction.
On one hand I wanted to make sure.
On the other, I enjoyed the unique pleasure
of triumphing over Hartman on at least one point:
The lucidity about his wife.
In that respect, Helene was closer to me than she was to him.
More my wife than his.
I didn't take my eyes off her. He knew her whole schedule.
Sometimes she went out to see some friends, Gyska or others.
I could tell what day of the week,
for how long,
and what she did afterwards.
Some other times, she went for a drive all by herself,
while Hartman was working.
I dared not following her because I respected her solitude,
but mostly because it would have exposed me.
She went to Munich two times a week.
Following her there was even riskier.
In the big cities, you always feel someone is behind you.
Maybe I also feared facing the truth.
I spent almost every nights at their place.
But I knew this harmonious atmosphere I had envied was fake.
She had a lover in Munich.
I would reach my goal before long.
I didn't realize it had changed.
It was an ugly caricature of what I had envisionned.
As for Hartman, all he cared about was his book.
He spoke about it with deep glorification.
Against this or that.
Never in favor.
He wanted it to contain all his thoughts and experiences.
Elderly warriors.
Poor cuckold
She had a lover in Munich.
I was sure of it.
I was going mad.
I was at a loss.
He had to break it into the open.
What was a game of wits was now a game of strength
and I was feeling weak.
I had to jump in the water like a child who cannot swim.
I decided to follow her in her next Munich trip
until the end this time.
to Hell if necessary.
I took many risks.
It was a miracle that she did not notice me.
This Helene was unknown,
totally different from the ones she showed me.
Impatient and happy
like I've never seen her before.
This was her true face.
This was neverending.
"To Hell" as I had foreseen.
A strange Hell.
So it was him. That was it.
A nice face, a looser, a punk.
She was mixing with the lower class,
like a common bored bourgeois's wife.
What a waste.
They had invited me that same night.
But the result of this stalking was that I was feeling depressed.
I arrived in a dreadful mood.
I tried to smile.
Helene was acting sweet too.
As for Hartman, he was happy, kind, peaceful.
He was the happier of the three.
I thought about a vaudeville play glorifying cuckold,
and for all my despair, I laughed nervously.
I'm sorry.
What's with you, Albin?
I was suffering like Hell.
I felt as cheated as Andreas.
I knew then what I had to do.
Without admitting it, I knew where this was leading.
Good Heaven.
It was no excuse but I couldn't hold it anymore.
The envy, hatred and fantasms were consuming me
and these people had provoked it.
They would not get away with it.
It took me a week to gather everything.
Everything was set.
It all took place in the few next hours.
Alas...
I followed her as usual,
she was taking a lonely stroll.
I had planned everything.
It was crucial that Helen could not follow me later on.
- Helene. - Albin.
What are you doing here?
I followed you.
I feared this might happen.
- I'm sure you are wrong. - Good.
Don't speak yet, it's useless.
What a strange look on you.
What's the matter, are you trying to intrigue me?
Don't be so conceited.
Pardon?
I said : "don't be so conceited".
Are you mad? Have you been drinking?
That would be reassuring, wouldn't it?
Listen Albin, I don't know what's with you, but do me a favor.
Leave me alone.
- You want to be left alone? - Yes.
- To resume you lonely stroll? - Yes.
You like long lonely walks in the woods?
Yes, i like long lonely walks in the woods.
You also like the crowd, the city and popular fests.
No, I like the countryside, some quiet and solitude.
Yes, you do.
You like the rabble, strong odors, sweat,
brutality.
I like softness.
And also brutal violence.
Don't deny it.
I know everything.
Look.
I see.
What are you?
A blackmailer?
I'm not a blackmailer.
You think I want to blackmail you?
What then?
The hell if I know...
I want you to leave Andreas.
I don't want to see you together.
I can't bare it.
Leave him.
Go away with me.
Poor Albin.
Do not call me that.
If I wanted, I'd force you to have sex right now.
Do you hear?
Leave Hartman tonight!
No, i'll never leave him.
This is an order.
Calm down.
OK, i'll show him the pictures.
It's useless.
We'll see.
Stupid fool.
- Andre knows. - It's not true.
You judge people according to your standarts.
But we are made of stronger wood.
We don't wine about ourselves.
You can't understand the bond between Andre and I.
You are lying, I see it in your eyes.
Am I?
I'll do it. We'll see.
Wait. Listen to me.
When I met Andre, he was on the brink of suicide.
He had lost the will for life, the belief in himself nor anyone.
Same as me. I was as low as he was.
We saved ourselves.
We are united for life.
One does not exist without the other.
Right. And where does this guy fit in the picture?
None of your business.
- You sleep with him. - Yes.
And Hartman is an indulgent husband.
- Yes he knows.- - I don't believe it.
- Let's go away together. - No.
I'll tell him everything then.
It's useless.
I can't go back now, I went too far.
Please don't go.
Please don't go Albin, what's in it for you?
My name is Andre Mercier. Albin in my nom-de-plume.
Where is Hartman?
What are you saying, stupid? Where is Hartman?
What a surprise.
Drop it, here are some nice souvenir shots.
Happiness is a fragile thing.
All was left to do was wait.
Dear God!
No, Andre, no!
My love.
It can't be... Helene, my love...
Andreas, it's my fault.
I did it all.
It was I who killed her, not you.
Listen to me please!
I'm a monster, I don't deserve to die.
Let me tell them I killed her. Let me confess.
Have pity on me. Try to understand.
I don't care.
They took him away at dawn.
I tried to understand I was responsable.
They didn't get it, they didn't believe me.
What did he say?
He said: "I pity you".
I called the newspaper to tell them I wanted to go back.
They refused.
So I quit.
I moved to a provincial town, but it didn't work.
There was nothing I could do.
All I told this story to people who shrugged their shoulders.
I can't help telling it.
They don't believe it, they don't understand.
They can't figure out when a nice boy like me
takes pleasure in tarnishing his reputation.