A Very French Christmas Page 12

  Claudine goes into the ballroom, anxiously looking for someone among the dancers; she replies to the young people who say hello as they pass by with a smile, a nod. At the same time, a hand slips around her waist. “Shall we dance?” the voice says. She turns quickly around, recognizes Ramon, a handsome, elegant young man.

  They dance.

  We see the old women again. A laugh that is a little too forced and shrill jazz music have made them start. One of them whispers, worried: “Perhaps ... we should go and see ...”

  “The youngsters don’t like it when we are obviously watching them, and besides, what can we do? It’s us, the adults, with our suspicions who put evil thoughts in their minds.”

  The other lady (hesitant): “All the same, my dear, we’re meant to be chaperoning them.”

  We see the ballroom where about twenty couples are holding each other tightly and dancing a sensual tango in the semidarkness.

  Nadine, the young lady of the house, wearing very modern clothes, notices her mother and her aunt coming over to them, and tells everyone in a playful whisper: “Yikes! The cops are here!”

  Everyone immediately starts behaving impeccably. The lights are switched on. The jazz band plays a lovely waltz.

  The two old women are touched: “They’re so charming.”

  The camera pans and reveals little dark corners here and there around the brightly lit ballroom. In one of them, a couple is kissing, in another, all we see is the bottom of a young woman’s dress. She is sitting down and her fashionable full skirt is pulled up to her knee, revealing her beautiful legs. As the two old women get closer, the dress is slowly lowered, and we hear a very serene voice, very “virginal,” reply: “Oh, yes, Madame, thank you so much; we’re having such a lovely time ...”

  On the banister of the staircase, two young men are standing very close to a young woman. The old woman comes closer, raises her lorgnette and sweetly asks: “What game is this you’re playing, children? My eyes are so bad, I can’t tell.”

  “Just an innocent little game, Madame.”

  “Oh, really? I didn’t know you still played those kinds of games, like I did when I was young ... Keep going, my dears.”

  Meanwhile, Claudine and Ramon are dancing.

  “You look especially lovely tonight, Claudine.”

  “Oh, Ramon, I’ve been trying to see you for a week.”

  “Oh, I’ve had a lot on my mind ... problems,” he says, with a barely noticeable hint of coldness in his voice.

  “I needed to speak to you about something important.”

  “Oh?” he replies, with a slight gesture of suspicion.

  When the two old women appear, they look at Claudine affectionately.

  “Look at that little Claudine ... she’s just charming ... What I especially like about her is how virtuous she looks... she looks so “virginal,” don’t you think? I was like that when I was young.”

  “She and Ramon make a handsome couple. Is she going to marry him?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Nadine told me he already has a fiancée back home, in Buenos Aires. She found out by chance.”

  Meanwhile, two young people disappear into a little adjoining room. You can hear music in the distance.

  Claudine (secretly): “I’m going to have a baby, Ramon.”

  She is standing, looking very fragile and childlike in her white dress. Ramon makes an irritated gesture and says, faltering: “Good heavens ... that’s a nuisance.”

  Claudine, with a hint of a smile: “Yes ... rather.”

  In the ballroom, they are giving out streamers and confetti. The dancers form a long chain that stretches from one end of the room to the other and under a door decorated with mistletoe. We see a front view of couples kissing: the good girls who laugh and offer their cheeks, the little sly ones who make sure that the kiss on the cheek ends up near their lips, and, finally, the spinster, going to seed, dressed like a child, who offers her mouth to her doleful cavalier and who, peeved, gets a peck on the forehead. Then Marie-Laure appears with a young man, Édouard Saulnier; he is short, ugly, with a kind, timid appearance. He wants to kiss her.

  She pushes him away: “Oh, no, dear boy!”

  Him, annoyed: “So everyone except me?”

  “You will have to marry me first ...”

  “Charming ... And why?”

  She sighs. He looks at her with some admiration.

  “You have many faults, Marie-Laure, but no one could really accuse you of hiding your feelings.”

  She shrugs her shoulders: “You want to kiss me. I don’t want you to. It’s give-and-take. I’ll say it again: marry me. Until then, no kissing.”

  Édouard, hissing: “Little bitch ...”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.”

  Under the mistletoe, she offers her hand for him to kiss, and little by little, manages to let her arm drift under the young man’s nose several times. She laughs, sounding provocative and cunning:

  “Still, I think you would prefer Claudine, wouldn’t you? Too bad she only has eyes for Ramon, eh? But I’m a nice girl; I know very well that I’m just a consolation prize to you, but I’m not angry about it.”

  Claudine and Ramon again. He is holding her hand.

  “Listen, my little one ... we must be reasonable ... What can you do? It’s life ... that is keeping us apart ... You know very well that if I could marry you, I would, and with joy ... with the greatest happiness ... But my father is uncompromising. I’m leaving ... (She makes a sudden movement) I’m leaving tomorrow morning, my poor darling, I’m going back home and getting married there ... I’m so sorry, I swear, so very sorry ... Oh, we shouldn’t have let ourselves get carried away.”

  She makes a weary gesture: “Oh ...”

  “It’s true ... it’s true, I blame myself more than you think ...”

  She pulls her hand from his.

  “Claudine ...”

  “Leave me alone ...”

  She goes back inside the ballroom. He throws away his cigarette and says with sincere pity: “Poor girl ... Good Lord, this is annoying ... What a problem ... (he thinks for a moment) If it’s true, of course ...”

  Back to the ball. Then to two young women in a corner. One of them tries to stop her stocking from running with a damp finger. “Damn! A pair of stockings ruined! ... And Georges still hasn’t asked me to marry him ... What a business it is to be a young woman!”

  Ramon, surrounded by a group of young people: “Well, my dear friends, I have to say my farewells tonight ... Yes, I’m leaving tomorrow morning...”

  “Really?” says a stocky young lad with a grin on his face, “I thought you weren’t leaving until next week.”

  Ramon elbows him in the ribs so he stops talking.

  We hear: “Well, good-bye, good-bye, then.”

  Now the young women have all come closer and are watching—their eyes bright with curiosity and maliciousness—as Claudine and Ramon are going to say good-bye to each other. Meanwhile, other couples are dancing.

  Ramon, embarrassed: “Good-bye, Claudine ...”

  Claudine looks at him. He lowers his eyes. The young women snigger. She offers him her hand, making a great effort to remain calm.

  “Good-bye, Ramon ... Bon voyage.”

  The couples start dancing again, turning round and round. Claudine stands apart, alone. Édouard Saulnier appears behind her.

  “What’s the matter? You were so cheerful before ... What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, Édouard, it’s nothing. Thank you,” she whispers, holding back her tears.

  Then pan to the cabaret where her parents have been celebrating. At first, we hear the church bells calling the religious to Midnight Mass, but they are drowned out by the sound of jazz. There are so many people in the nightclub that all we can see are a mass of couples crushed in under a cloud of confetti and streamers that are flying around. We see the points of two paper hats. The hats are taken off, revealing the pitiful face of Claud
ine’s father and another older gentleman.

  “Oh, it’s horrible, horrible; who would have thought that the Chantace stocks would drop by twenty-five percent in two months?”

  “I would, but you didn’t listen to me,” says the other man, bitterly.

  “But you have some of their stock too!”

  “Of course, and that’s your fault, I was taken in by your blind confidence.”

  “We tell ourselves that they can’t go any lower ... which is a mistake ... We have to get it in our heads that stocks can always go down.”

  Streamers landing on his nose make him fall silent. The black musicians twist and turn like contortionists. Meanwhile, Claudine’s mother is dancing with an Argentinian, shorter than her, whom she holds tightly, lovingly, in her arms.

  “Do you love me?”

  Him: A cascade of incomprehensible Castillian r’s.

  Her (nearly fainting): “Oh, when you look at me like that, I tremble all over.”

  The faithful come out of Midnight Mass. The partygoers leave the restaurant. A drunken man holds his toy dolls close to his heart. When people bump into him, he complains.

  “Oh, my little dolls, let me keep my little dolls, you mean people.”

  A very small bellboy, as tiny as can be, leads him to his car with maternal care.

  “Yes, Monsieur, no one will touch your little dolls, this way, Monsieur ...”

  Once again we see the ballroom where Marie-Laure and her friends are dancing. The young Nadine is cajoling her mother: “Mama, go up to bed, this is ridiculous, you’ll feel awful tomorrow.”

  “Well, Nadine, will you all be good?”

  Nadine opens her eyes in wide innocence: “What do you mean, Mama?”

  “I mean ... you won’t make too much noise?”

  “Oh, no, Mama, I promise.”

  Semidarkness. Songs playing quietly on the record player. Divans, plush armchairs, flirting, kissing.

  Nadine: “Mama made a point of telling us not to make too much noise.”

  Laughter.

  A young man quietly sings a blues song.

  Claudine to Édouard: “You’re a kind friend ... but it’s my fault. I’ve been stupid. I should have behaved like everyone else here, flirt, rather than fall in love. I didn’t know and I only got what I deserve.”

  “But ... Claudine ...”

  Claudine (sharply): “Oh, don’t go imagining anything out of the ordinary happened. No, I admit that I ... I was very fond of Ramon, and that it hurts that he’s leaving ... so ...”

  Nadine, wearing a top hat, dances, twisting and turning.

  Claudine (angrily):

  “If I have a daughter, I can tell you she won’t be raised like her, or like me!”

  Édouard, smiling: “Well, you have plenty of time to think about that.”

  Marie-Laure calls out: “Édouard, where on earth are you?” Then quietly, angrily, to Claudine: “Listen, what you’re doing is disgusting! We promised each other: I wouldn’t go near your Ramon and you wouldn’t go near Édouard! Besides, I’m the eldest ...”

  Claudine (quietly): “Leave me alone, Marie-Laure.”

  “You, dear sister, have done something stupid.”

  Nighttime. We see the brightly lit sign on a department store: Santa Claus is going down a chimney with lots of presents. We can see the windows lit up, the shadows of people dancing. Jeannot and Christiane’s room, them in bed. They wake up with a start when the heavy courtyard door noisily opens.

  Jeannot: “Perhaps it’s Santa Claus ...”

  Christine: “You’re so stupid, he comes down the chimney, that’s the grownups coming home.”

  Downstairs, Marie-Laure and Claudine come into the entrance hall, on tiptoe.

  Marie-Laure: “Damn! It’s after five o’clock. We’re going to get told off ...”

  Claudine: “We have to be quiet.”

  Marie-Laure knocks over a piece of furniture, making a terrible noise. They switch on the lights.

  “Well, well, our parents aren’t home yet,” says Marie-Laure, “we shouldn’t have been so worried.”

  We see the servants who are celebrating on the sixth floor.

  Then, in the car, their parents, who disappear under a mass of streamers and confetti.

  Marie-Laure and Claudine get undressed.

  “You know, I think this is it, this time. I told Édouard to come over tomorrow. He asked if Papa would be home.”

  Claudine: “Do you love him?”

  Marie-Laure (shrugging her shoulders): “He’s rolling in it ...”

  Claudine (pensively): “He seems like a good man. You’re lucky.”

  She starts brushing her hair. Marie-Laure is humming; her sister says, sharply: “Oh, do be quiet!”

  “Mademoiselle is nervous. Oh, of course, that was your Ramon’s favorite tango.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Goodness, you really are old-fashioned! We flirt, we part, that’s life ... True love only comes when you’re married, and I don’t mean with your husband, naturally.”

  Claudine drops down onto the bed, sobbing: “Oh, Marie-Laure, if only you knew! There’s nothing more I can do, except kill myself, do you understand?”

  Marie-Laure (suddenly very harshly): “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to have Ramon’s baby ... Ramon ... who knows and who is going away ... (a gesture of despair) I loved him, I thought he would marry me, of course, yes, I thought I knew everything, that I was very smart, but I was actually just as stupid as everyone else.”

  Marie-Laure (furious): “What are you going to do?”

  “Do you think I know?”

  The image fades. We see the parents coming home, in a bad mood.

  “What disgusting champagne ... and who was that little Argentinian who kept dancing with you?”

  “A charming young man.”

  We see Marie-Laure who is finishing saying something to Claudine; all we can hear is: “Now listen to me, I’m giving you good advice!” and Claudine who says over and over again: “No, no, I don’t want to ...”

  Fade to the children’s bedroom. The first dawn of winter. Christiane, leaning on one elbow, watching, enraptured, the snow that has fallen onto the windowsill during the night. A bird is pecking at something. A perfect Christmas card image. A taxi full of drunkards passes by on the street. In front of the doors to the nightclubs, people are sweeping up piles of streamers, confetti and crushed toy dolls.

  Then the first church bells ring. We see families going to Mass. Well-dressed children, wearing white gloves, holding their little prayer books. A light snow is falling. Through the windows of several different houses, we see children in their parents’ rooms, on large beds, with new toys. We hear the children shouting and laughing.

  Christiane and Jeannot solemnly walk into their parents’ bedroom. We see the fireplace full of toys, hear the little ones saying “oh” in amazement, then, the bed, where their parents– puffed up, snoring, wrinkled – their balding father, and their mother wearing a chin strap, are sleeping. Jeannot is busy playing with his toys, but Christiane looks at her parents, lowers her head and seems upset and unhappy. A sleepy, moaning voice comes from under the covers: “Take them out, dear Nannie, can’t you see I have a headache?”

  The servants set the table for the guests who have been invited to the Christmas party. We see the tall tree decorated with toys.

  In her bedroom, their mother, who has recovered somewhat, is now talking to Marie-Laure and Claudine. She gives each of them a little pendant. Claudine, very upset, murmurs as she kisses her: “Mama ...”

  “Yes?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  The mother (annoyed): “Well, talk fast ...”

  “It’s just that ... it’s too difficult ... this way ... Mama ...”

  “Well then, we’ll do it another time, my child. You can see I’m in a hurry.”

  Marie-Laure sniggers as she leaves the room, prodding her sister with her el
bow.

  “You see? You’re still fooling yourself, come on ... Can you picture Mama raising your kid, and Papa telling you: ‘Miserable girl; you’ve disgraced me, but I forgive you!’ Well, can you? All I’m asking you, and I think I do have a say in all this, is that there be no scandal!”

  “What has it got to do with you?”

  “Well, that’s a good one. What about my marriage?”

  The scene fades. Paris, Christmas morning. The shops are closed. In the street, the last pine trees have been taken away; people are sweeping up the needles left on the sidewalk. Trash in Les Halles food market. Then we see how Claudine’s parents spend this family holiday. Her father is with his mistress. An insignificant little actress who greets him rather coldly. He says (sounding pitiful): “I brought you your little Christmas present, my sweetie ...”

  He gives her a pendant exactly like the one given to his daughters. She grumbles: “Yeah, I see you didn’t knock yourself out.”

  She’s stretched out on the bed in her pajamas. She hangs the pendant from her toe, swings it there for a moment, then kicks it onto the rug. He goes over to her, whispers: “My Louloute ...”

  She sighs and lets him kiss her.

  A barrel organ grinds away in the courtyard:

  Childhood, innocence

  Dawn of life ...

  Then Christiane and Jeannot appear on a path in the Bois de Boulogne. The voice of the invisible nanny nags them, scolding: “Christiane, stand up straight ... Jeannot, don’t get your gloves dirty, stop jumping,” etc.

  The song continues:

  Love is for the young

  In the springtime, the birds all agree ...

  Fade to the bachelor pad of the little Argentinian. In the bathroom, Madame is pulling in her bosom with a tight, invisible band made of pink rubber.

  Then the voice of the little Argentinian: “I have so many difficulties ... My father who owns an enormous farm wrote to me saying that this year, he can’t send me my allowance because the bulls won’t mate with the cows ...”

  (Superimposed: bulls turn away in disgust when the cows, mooing sadly, pass by.)

  The music plays again. Madame sighs: “Oh, it’s so romantic.”

  Finally, in a poor neighborhood, one of those terrible areas where every window has a sign that says DENTIST’S OFFICE in gold letters, we see Claudine walking quickly; she looks weary and desperate. The morning snow has turned into water and mud. A woman offers her a branch of mistletoe.