Emilie Muller (1994) Movie Script

Good morning.
Good morning.
You may hang your coat over there.
It's for you.
Hello. Please, have a seat.
What's your name?
Emilie Muller.
Is that your real name?
Are you an actress?
Once I played a small part in a play,
but I believe this fact does not make me an actress.
Was that all you played?
Ever starred in a movie?
No, never.
Had an audition?
No, this is the first time.
Any specialty course? Acting classes?
I'm afraid, not.
How did you come to know that we are looking for an actress?
A friend of mine told me about this.
She insisted on me coming here with her,
but in the end she hasn't come herself.
But you have come.
Yes, because of the script.
A man locked in a room,
a woman wandering around the world instead of him.
I was really touched by that.
Could you show me the contents of your bag?
My bag?
You don't want to do this?
Do you think it's not appropriate?
No, not at all.
Should I empty my bag?
Or what should I do?
Take out any item and tell me why it's in the bag,
and what associations it arouses in your mind.
Wait a moment.
Everyone ready?
Emilie Muller, take one.
Can I begin?
Well, there is nothing unusual here.
A wallet.
A powder-box.
This morning on my way here I was passing a market.
There were plenty of various fruits there
including apples.
Red apples, green apples.
I came closer just to have a look,
and the seller took one apple and gave it to me.
What is it?
An advertiser.
Are you looking for something?
Not now, but I look for a job from time to time.
What kind of job?
I change jobs all the time.
I was a housekeeper, a nanny,
a waitress, a documentalist.
I currently work as a proofreader in a publishing office.
I like working there.
Only when I read a text I mostly see defects.
You can find so many things in the ads.
Come to think how wonderful it is
that a few words in a paper may change a person's life.
I like to read real estate ads, I want to have my own house.
Not a palace, just a small wooden house deep in the woods.
It has to be a place to go whenever I want,
where I could invite friends, or listen to music far into the night.
When I read real estate ads, I imagine what kind of life I would have there.
Your own home is a totally new life.
It will bring different flavours, new colours.
Or maybe absolute loneliness,
no-one to talk to.
Sometimes this is what I feel like having.
Aren't you afraid?
No, not at all.
When I was a child, my parents often left me home alone,
and I spent time in solitude
with a book to read.
But I don't remember ever being afraid.
A ring.
An old friend of mine gave it to me.
It belonged to his mother, but she's passed away.
I have never worn this ring.
Why not?
It's too heavy.
A plane ticket.
An old ticket?
No, it's new.
My friend sent it to me.
It's a return ticket. From Paris to Nizza and back.
I still don't know if I go.
He told me he had an old apartment overlooking the sea,
just like in that movie...
No if I go, it will only be to see the tomb.
To see what?
The tomb.
They say there is an old cemetery on the outskirts of the city.
Matisse, the artist, is buried there.
His grave is bare, but there is always a bunch of red flowers on it.
Someone, some woman maybe, brings new flowers every day.
When my friend told me about it, I wanted to see it with my own eyes right away.
And yesterday I received this ticket.
But if I go, I may not come back.
A sketchbook for taking notes.
What kind of notes?
Some stories, scraps of dreams, phrases I have read in books.
I constantly write something down, it is a rather foolish habit.
Why foolish?
Because it is for nothing.
Important things you remember without any notes.
Is it also your diary?
I make myself write something down every day. It's like a job for me.
I write about things I see, or do, about people I meet. About everything.
Aren't you afraid that someone will read it?
Yes. I once lost a diary.
Since then I've been having bad dreams,
that someone has found it and started sorting out my relationships.
Some horrible things are written here, things I never told anyone about.
Could you read anything from there to me?
Monday, July 7th.
I have known happiness, but that didn't make me happier.
Beautiful, isn't it?
Are those your words?
No, it's Jules Renard.
I read this in his diary.
Oh, by the way, I've recently written down an extremely funny phrase, let me find it.
Would you like some coffee?
No, thanks.
Do you like to seduce?
No, I don't think so.
But everyone likes to seduce, don't they?
It's more like I am seduced by other people's desire.
How do you mean?
When someone is interested in me, pays me some attention, I can't resist.
I want to, but this is stronger than me.
Men must be taking advantage of this?
When they do, I leave them.
Sometimes it happens rather unexpectedly.
For example?
I don't know, one word, one movement is enough.
They may never even notice, but it is enough for me to understand
that we have nothing in common.
And you never meet them again?
On the contrary.
I always try to meet again the people I used to love.
I need to know what they do, what have become of them,
even if I don't see them for many months.
You have no idea how important it is to just know that they are here, not far from me,
somewhere where they feel good, and that I only need to give them a sign to meet them again.
When you cross someone out of your life,
you cross out a part of your life as well.
Life itself makes everything to separate people.
A pen.
It's a gift from one of my friends for his birthday.
For his birthday?
He always liked it more to give presents rather than get them.
A postcard from one of my friends.
I haven't received any news from her for a long time.
My friend, she lives in Brazil now, in Sao Paulo.
She has been a nun for the last five years.
And now she writes to me that she has abandoned everything and got married.
To a priest.
If only I could I would fly to her with the first flight.
What else is there?
A library card.
A donor card.
What card?
An organ donor card. When I die I want my organs to be donated.
Pills. I almost never take them, but I always have them with me.
They are for my insomnia.
The most terrible hours are from 4 to 5 a.m.
when you have neither an interesting book with you nor any crackers to eat
A pack of cigarettes.
Do you smoke a lot?
No, I don't smoke. They are for my friends.
Do you have many friends?
No, I don't.
A friend of mine has a theory. He believes that people can only have a certain number of friends.
And if you meet a new friend, you will lose one of the old ones.
I think he is right. You can have two, maybe three friends in your life.
What features of a man's character touch you most of all?
Features that touch me?
Actually, the ability to be touched.
Ability to admire. It is important to be able to admire.
But then it doesn't relate to men only.
I think, I love someone more if they can be moved.
Does your friend have such a feature?
I guess so.
And what are his drawbacks?
Emilie Muller, take two
The tape ended, so we are going to repeat these last lines.
We were talking about your friend, what are his drawbacks?
His drawbacks
I only know a single drawback of his, and it's terrible.
How is that?
Everyone loves him, but he doesn't love a soul.
Go on.
A penknife.
A harmonica.
A hairpin.
An old sketchbook.
Do you have any book in your bag?
Yes, I always have a book with me.
Could you show it to me? What is it about?
It's a memoir book.
I only read biographies, personal diaries.
I have to be certain that things I read about happened in real life.
Otherwise, I get bored.
This is a book by an American writer.
He writes that his mother died not having read a single line from his books.
You know why?
Every time a book of his was published,
he told her that the next one would be better and worthier for her to read.
Isn't it wonderful?
Actually, I very seldom read a book to the end.
I constantly jump from one book to another.
Have you met the woman of your life?
Excuse me?
The woman that would at once shadow all others.
Imagine that you are looking for such a woman.
You don't know what she is like.
You only know one thing when you first see her,
you will know at once that it is her you've been looking for.
The same is with everything.
When we read we look for something unique.
But, of course, we can never find it.
What if you find it?
It will upend my life.
Emilie Muller, take three.
I think that's it.
Ah no, here is a small pocket.
This is my friend. He is asleep.
This is the only way he allows someone to take a picture of him.
And this is my mother in her youth.
I found this picture a few days ago. I had never seen it before.
I like my mothers eyes in this picture... her smile.
That is the first time I see her hugged by another man, not my father.
They seem to be in love with each other.
I'm glad that even before my father came into her life, my mother had been happy.
Do parents mean much for you?
They are everything to me.
When I think that some day they will
I tremble all over.
Tell me about your childhood.
I stayed a child for a long time.
I didn't want to grow up. I felt fine as I was.
Some writer mentioned once that he couldn't remember ever standing on earth in his childhood.
He was always held on someone's hands.
That was how it was with me. My parents always protected me from all miseries.
Where were you born?
In Hungary.
Could you tell me something in Hungarian? Read a poem?
But you will not understand anything.
It doesn't matter.
Tell me, as a child did you have a dream to become someone?
Yes, my brother and I, we wanted to become astronauts.
We used to watch the sky all the time.
If we were offered to go to Venus, Mars or Jupiter,
we would go at once.
The dream didn't work out?
No. I wish I knew why.
That's it, your time is over.
Thank you.
There is a young man at the exit, please tell him your contact information. I will call you next week, ok?
Could you bring me some water?
Four girls left, want me to call in the next one?
No, just a minute, I need a break. It won't take much time.
Could you tell them to wait a little?
Sure, I'll tell them.
Hey Olivier, she has forgotten her bag, can you try to catch up with her?
This isn't her bag.
Yes, of course it is. She's forgotten it.
It's not her bag, I am quite sure of it. She didn't have any bag with her.
Well, whose bag is it, then?
Alice! Alice!
Whose bag is it?
It's mine. Why?
Yes, it's mine.