Hello. It's for Mylene, my cousin.
She's crazy about you, I love you too.
Your novel moved me.
It feels so real.
Thank you for everything you do. Thank you.
- Hello. - Hello.
I'm so happy to meet you. I love your book.
It's for my daughter.
- What's her name? - Justine.
It is for her 37th birthday.
I'm sure she will like it a lot.
It's beautiful.
Thanks.
- Hi, Delphine. - For whom?
It's for my mother.
It's her birthday and she's been a huge fan of yours.
- What's her name? - Nathalie.
She talks about you continuously. That's crazy.
- Thank you so much. Good day. - Thank you. Goodbye.
For Jeanne.
I have been in the hospital for a long time
and your book gave me an incredible hope...
that despite the disease, despite... all we have been through,
my children perhaps would love me one day.
- Thanks. - Thank you.
- That's enough. That's enough. - Enough? But there are other people.
Everyone, I'm sorry, but for today it's all.
She's been here since this morning at 8:00.
Just one more.
For your most relentless fan.
They will get back in line.
If you do it quietly, nobody will notice.
If I do another, I'll collapse. I swear I'll sign it.
I took a long trip to get here.
- Do I have to come? - Just show your face and then you can go.
- I'm exhausted. - Just a few minutes.
- I only do this to make you happy. - They came for you.
- Who? - Agencies, foreign publishers...
- Karina. - Just a few minutes.
- Delphine. - Thanks, Oriane.
Cheers.
Leonello Brandolini what a pleasure!
What a nice evening! Hello, how are you?
Mrs. Dayrieux, what a pleasure to see you.
- You don't remember me, do you? - No.
I'm Leonello Brandolini, your Italian publisher.
And thank you for your book. And what a book!
Fantastic. You made me cry.
But sales figures won't make us cry.
Tell me something...
I'm sorry, for earlier.
It doesn't matter.
This is a difficult book for me.
I'm happy to have met you. I admire your work.
Sometimes it seems to me...
that you write only for me, that you read my thoughts.
- Do you have the book with you? - Of course.
- And this is to...? - To Elle.
- Elle? - Yes, short for Elisabeth.
Thank you.
A glass of Vodka?
Why not?
I'd like to know how you work.
Do you take notes or use recorder?
I take notes, in the notebooks.
- I always carry them with me. - Always?
Yes, they give me security.
- Can I see them? - See them?
Quiet down, I don't want to open them.
I have four.
One for the book I'm working on.
Two for titles or ideas.
And this is for personal things.
It must be hard now.
The success, the comments, the reactions from the family...
The sudden limelight.
I guess you are on the edge of collapse.
Of collapse? Sounds a little exaggerated.
And yet, despite everything, sometimes you will feel alone.
- Yes? - Are you ready?
- Not at all, I'm destroyed. - I'll take you to the countryside.
How was the party?
You didn't miss anything. Yours?
I hosted an Amos Oz fan meeting with Sollers.
Then there was a reception...
I left early.
I met an interesting woman.
Are you into women now?
Stop that.
We talked all night. It was nice.
She's a good listener, very caring.
Good listeners are rare.
- What's her name? - Elle.
- Yes, what's her name? - I told you. Elle.
- She's called Elle? - Yes.
Comes from Elisabeth.
- May I? - Of course, Raymond.
- I saw your car. - Do you want a coffee?
No thanks. I brought you some cider.
Oh, thank you, you didn't have to. Very nice.
So cute.
I have Delphine's book.
If you could sign it for me.
Sorry, I should have sent a copy to you.
Here.
My wife also spent a difficult time years ago.
She was also hospitalized.
It seems like your story.
- She didn't commit suicide. - Thank God, no.
No, she's fine now.
Thank you. Good...
See you then.
- Don't you want to stay? - No thanks.
- Good day. - Thank you.
The kids are gone.
- I miss them. - It's normal that you miss them.
But you have more time.
- To come here? - Sort of.
I mean writing. After doing research for months.
- You should start now. - Research is one big part of the job.
I know you... It takes time, of course.
But you are in hiatus.
It's a big step, a new adventure.
I will spend two years with these characters, it's normal.
- What normal? - The reflection, ask myself questions.
Do I really want to do it? Are they really so interesting?
What if I was wrong? Things like that.
- Do you think you're wrong? - No.
Not at all.
I'm ready.
I'm happy to start.
"It's easy to turn your life into stories.
Changing some names.
Do you think you can go back to your good old life?
It's too late.
Selling your own mother made you break the ice.
Selling other family stories as well? You must making big money.
So send the check, thank you."
- Hello? - Hello. It's Elle.
It's crazy to call like this.
I didn't know if I could use your number so soon.
I gave it to you.
Yes, but people do it out of politeness.
Are you free... for a coffee?
Yes, why not?
- Sorry if I bothered you. - No, I'm glad to see you.
- Hello. - Hello.
- A Tariquet, as usual? - Yes thanks.
I talk a lot about myself, but I know nothing about you.
- I'm not an interesting person. - But in my eyes, yes.
But it's OK if you don't want to talk. Thank you.
I write for others.
That is, they pay me to write their lives.
Actresses, politicians...
You write and they get the title.
An invisible author. Ghost writer for celebrities.
So you choose your customers?
You mean my patients.
And now who is your patient?
A TV presenter.
Last summer we did 30 hours of interviews.
Now I'm trying to turn it into a book.
Don't you want to write something about yourself?
- Me? - Of your life.
Oh! My life is nothing to say.
My husband died many years ago, I live alone. No children.
Your choice?
However, I have no regrets.
We live separately. It works like this, between us.
I am afraid of habits, compromise.
How life can be after a few years together.
People envy you a lot.
Did you search me on Google?
Not need to Google you, everyone knows it.
Everybody knows?
Yes, you're with a TV presenter.
He was criticized for inviting you.
Should I be banned from his program?
- People are envious, it's normal. - How come normal?
Many writers would like to be invited. Me included.
Heck, almost forget. I gotta go. I have to see my editor.
- The bill, please. - Yes.
- Where is it? - At the sixth.
I'm going that way too, we go together.
- Your children are gone? - Yes.
They left me.
Paul is in an art school in Belgium.
And my daughter wants to get into civil aviation.
She is studying in Lyon flying school.
Your daughter wants to be a pilot?
Can you imagine?
That's my stop.
Bye.
Shit, my notebooks!
Hello?
Of course at home.
You can see me?
Really?
Where are you? I can't see you.
Incredible.
When?
Saturday?
I'll let you know if I'm free.
Thanks anyway.
- Good evening. - Good evening.
You look beautiful.
Am I the first arrived? I thought I was late.
Not at all.
Happy birthday.
I said no gifts or flowers.
Forgive me, I'm sorry.
I forgive you.
I will open it with the others'.
Wow, I'm impressed! Do you cook for two whole days?
Unbelievable.
Someone from the family?
I think so, but maybe it's not.
- You'll have some ideas. - Actually, no.
Your next book: After.
After what?
After your last book.
The consequences, what it caused, what it revealed.
I have been working for months on a realistic fiction.
Oh, Delphine...
Realistic fiction, really?
You are far beyond this. Have some confidence.
They won't come. Just two of us.
- Maybe wait a little longer. - No.
- Call, so we could be sure. - Waste of time.
- But, you talked to them, right? - I sent a group email...
I do that every year and they never show up.
At least, open your gift.
I'm glad you came. You won't understand how much it means to me.
After my husband's death, his friends stopped calling me.
I keep inviting them, but they never come.
Do you know why?
I can't talk about it, I'm not ready.
One day, I'll tell you.
This is the outline of the book I am about to write.
Take a look.
I would very much like to hear your opinion.
It's very crowded.
Mrs. Dayrieux, I am very happy that you could come.
- The pleasure is mine. - Good evening.
I have a surprise for you, come.
Come.
Photo from the cover of your book is too small.
I thought it deserved to be life-sized.
For its entirety.
I must apologize, I have to go to say hello.
I will be right back.
Good evening.
Let's just go.
- Don't you want to wait for Karina? - No, I have to go.
All right?
Hello?
It's me. Did I wake you up?
Yes, more or less.
Sorry to call you so early, but I have a big problem.
- Do you have a recorder? - Yes sure.
Would you mind lending me right now? It's really urgent.
Here it is. Let me show you how it works?
Nah, I have one like that.
I don't know how can you get up so early in the morning.
- I've never be able to wake up. - Of course yes, all women can.
I don't think so.
How you see yourself and how others see you... are two different things.
So, what do you need this morning?
- A coffee with cream and a baguette with butter. - Very well.
Thank you for trusting me. I read it very carefully.
- The characters are still sketchy. - Yes, yes.
But I believe that the narrative arc and the structure are solid.
- I think there is some material... - I like it a lot.
- Yes? - Seriously.
Ah, thank you very much, it helps me. I really need feedbacks...
- I think it works. - Before I get to work.
- Here you go. - Thank you.
Last night, I made love with a man in a hotel room.
At 05:00 or 06:00 I dressed and took a taxi to go home and...
- I had forgotten the keys. - Do you have a spare?
Yes, but the maid arrives at 11:00.
I have an appointment with a politician in the National Assembly.
- I started working for her. - Is it interesting?
Fascinating. No, I'm joking.
Come, I want to smoke.
You know, Delphine... I want to be honest with you.
It may be looking a little... A little brutal.
I lied to you.
I find your outline rather dull.
I don't mean it sucks, it's just not interesting.
It has nothing to do with you.
It would be a big mistake to waste time on this, just because...
You are afraid to write what you should write.
Of course, if you talk to your publisher, they will tell you it's a great idea.
They're not crazy, they have to squeeze money out of readers.
Let's not delude ourselves, they don't care about anything else.
Even if your book is bad,
they can still lure a thousand people into the trap.
It annoys me to leave tomorrow morning. Leave you alone.
- Are you sure it's okay? - Don't worry me.
- Elle helps me a lot. - She?
- What do you mean? - I can talk to her about my work.
Or other essential, intimate things.
Sometimes I have the impression that she destabilizes you.
No no. In fact...
Her opinions might be a bit single-minded, but...
Even if I don't always agree, it's still effective.
It forces me to clarify my mind.
Look.
She bought me some new notebooks.
It worries me. You're writing?
Not exactly. Not yet, but it will happen.
When will you return?
I'll be in Texas to meet Cormac McCarthy first,
then in Los Angeles for Bret Easton Ellis and Joan Didion.
You have chance to meet her, I love her works.
Then I will have a few free days before meeting Don DeLillo in New York.
In all... I'll be away for three weeks.
And then it's finished?
After then will be Ian McEwan, but it's in London, it's easier.
They offered me a third season.
But I refused.
I don't want to be away from you too long.
"It's a burden...
be in your family, share your name.
Now it's a real burden.
The name we were so proud of, now you just shit on it.
I'm part of the author's family and it pisses me off.
I heard you got rid of your children.
Well done.
Now the play yard must be empty isn't it?
I know you're a bad mother."
- Hello? - I received another one.
- Another what? - Anonymous letter.
Another one? Poor!
- But I mean Facebook. - What Facebook?
- Your Facebook page. - I don't have Facebook, I don't know how it works.
The matter is very serious. Don't move, I'll be there right away.
OK, I'll wait for you.
What is this Facebook story?
There's a page of mine, but I have nothing to do with it.
There's a page in your name, even if you didn't create it.
And anyone can post something.
- Your password? - louisepaul222, all lowercase.
- Why "222"? - I don't know, I didn't set it up.
Someone in your family has posted nasty things about you. Listen.
"she's a disaster and destroys everything around her, she's dangerous.
If you have one person like that in your family,
you will be committed to an asylum like her mother." - Turn off that thing.
You're wrong, this is very serious.
Anonymous letters are one thing, but attacking on social networks is another.
Really?
People believe in gossip more than truth.
Then it is useless to answer.
Your readers do it for you, they defend you.
- Not everyone, I guess. - Not everybody.
And then they get angry with each other. Listen.
"Why all these hatred? Read something else's book."
And the other replies: "It's shit, people love shit.
She's a media whore. She would do anything to be in the spotlight.
Look at her partner. She only cares about money. She would sell her family for money.
And they call that literature..." - Turn off that thing, I beg you, stop.
I'm sorry, but it's really too much. I am fatigued.
I understand.
Don't worry. I'll take care of everything.
This will help you relax.
What's that?
An anxiolytic, Xanax. Only half a milligram.
Thanks.
Just give you another one for tonight.
- How are you? - I'm torn.
How was the night?
Bad, like yesterday.
I woke up at 4:00 am in cold sweat.
Could not get back to sleep.
Did you take another Xanax as I told you?
I took two.
I was able to sleep between 8:30 and 9:00 am.
- louisepaul222, right? - Yes.
When was the last time you checked your inbox?
Good. We will start by replying to your emails.
Then...
To all the appointments, editorials...
...or readings, I will reply that you are busy with your new book,
that you are flattered that they have chosen you, but right now you need to concentrate.
Is that OK?
And... I will add a postscript like that...
"Don't hesitate to contact me again, I would be delighted."
What is it, a high school in Tours?
Have you made a commitment for the next week?
There are three classes that work on my book.
- And?
I promised that I would give it a talk on writing.
How is the speech script?
I have some notes, well... some notes.
Some notes...
There are three messages
from the high school librarian. It seems rather unpleasant.
She says: "Students are happy to meet you.
Could you send me your train times?
As I told you in the previous email, I need to know them
to organize students and book a room."
Then she begins to be impatient.
She says: "Didn't get any response from you
I would like to remind you that 200 students await for you on next Thursday at 9am
for a meeting on the theme 'Writing as a Job'
to which you have agreed to participate.
Thank you. They are studying your books."
It's really annoying.
I don't know. What are we doing, Delphine?
- We have to answer. - I will go.
- Are you sure? - I have no other choice.
Your coffee.
I found some notes for the speech at high school Tours.
- In fact, you had them trashed. - Really?
They were not really completed, I rewrote them.
Do you want to check on these?
Are you well?
All fine.
You saved my life.
I'm happy to help.
If it allows you to focus on important things.
I have concerns too.
In fact...
The apartment that I rented.
The owner worked abroad but suddenly returned urgently.
I have to go.
Can you let me stay for a week or two until I find another place?
Since the kids' room are empty...
- Of course.
Do you need all these things?
No, but I don't know where to put them. Basically that's all I have.
And then, there are my documents. No, those are too heavy.
An elevator would be more convenient.
We tried, but the estate folks did not approved it.
You can use the shelves, I also clear the wardrobe.
I'll fix that later.
France Culture, for the interview.
Fourth floor.
- Who is it? - Journalist from France Culture.
You didn't tell me anything.
I don't have to tell you everything.
What are you about to talk?
About my first book.
On job anxiety.
You've done enough talking.
- Hi, thanks for the invitation. - My pleasure.
- Damien, the sound engineer. - Hello.
- Give me your coat. - Thank you.
Thank you.
Do you mind if I open the window? For the noise of the city.
- Go ahead. - Seems more impulsive.
You know our topic today.
Let's talk about your first novel
and bring it back into today's society. Do you remember how it started?
I remember perfectly.
I was on the railway D.
It was raining.
I was going to the workplace. The job was full of boredom.
Was it easy to write a workplace-related novel?
In fact, at first I didn't want to write about office,
but the solitude of urban lives.
I wanted to describe the characters in everyday life.
Those destroyed, solitary lives ...
Nothing very romantic.
How boring was that job?
I was in charge of the social PR department in the company.
Tried to understand social relationships...
and find the solution in conflict situations.
I don't think you want to know more.
Thanks again for inviting us.
The program will air on 21. I will send you a message to confirm.
- All right. Thank you, goodbye. - Thank you, goodbye.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye.
Enough?
Have you made a new friend?
After all she finally knows what your goal is.
"Finally back to fiction"?
What do they care? Who is she and why she has power to judge you?
Are you serious? Are you jealous about me?
Forgive me, seeing you wasting time like this makes me angry.
That woman is dragging you to the bottom.
Only I know who you are and what you are able to write.
Only you?
Can't you see that I'm terrified? Hitting the bottom?
You piss me off with the story of the hidden book.
There is no hidden book. Nothing behind the curtain.
No taboos, no treasures, no secrets! There is nothing!
Look at me, I'm transparent!
"This answering machine knows how to make you talk."
Paul, honey, what's up?
Don't you love your mother anymore?
Call me once in a while, I miss you so much.
If you see your sister, tell her I'd like to hear from her.
A kiss. Take care of yourself.
- Mom? - Yes, it's mom.
- I wanted to remind you that I exist. - Stop that.
- In past you called me every day. - School, mom.
I'm so happy, I did my first solo.
- What does solo mean? - The instructor let me fly alone.
- Under his wings? - No, he's not in the plane.
I was alone. It was the most fucken incredible thing that I did.
You can't imagine it. I will tell you.
Yes, tell me later.
We'll talk.
Kisses.
- You're back. - You're going out?
Yes, I'm late.
But I'm making progress. Out of my messes.
- It's been a long time since you wrote anything? - I don't know. It happened gradually.
Don't worry, we will find a solution.
But you have many appointments. You work had been translated widely. Incredible.
I told everyone that you're not in Paris.
Could you just say that I was not in the mood?
No, nobody needs to know what kind of mood you are in.
"Began by selling your mother
and then go out with a TV presenter to promote your book.
Congratulations, you did it all.
When he leaves you, I guess you'll write a book full of new crap.
You caused so much pain, so much harm for people around you. Do you know why?
Because people believe what is written."
It's someone who has hated you for a long time.
It was your book that triggered all this.
Is this the latest one?
Yes.
"Because people believe what is written."
And they are right.
Why are they right? Who are these people?
People can go wrong and say bullshit.
Look around.
All writers use current events.
And you know why? Because it is the only valid source.
You want to go back to write fiction,
but you refuse to write your hidden book.
Stop that, with my "hidden book"!
Sorry if I insist.
But I reread the interview. You could read it on the Internet.
Maybe I'll write it one day, but not now.
My work took me elsewhere.
Where?
Where did it bring you to?
For me, it didn't get you nowhere.
What are you doing here?
- I heard you get up. - So?
So?
If my presence is a burden, tell me and I'll leave.
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean that.
- Are you okay, Delphine? - Yes I'm fine.
Then go back to sleep, because tomorrow you leave early for Tours.
No, I'm not fine.
I know the consequence, but I still don't want to go.
I don't have the strength.
- Do you want me to go in your place? - Are you kidding?
Not at all.
- Do you pretend to be me? - Why not?
Despite all my photos on Google?
There are many, with many different expressions.
- Are you serious? - I'm serious.
Wait up.
Keep. Try this.
I was on the railway D. It was raining.
I was going to workplace. The job was full of boredom.
I was in charge of the social PR department in the company.
It consisted of understanding social relationships...
find the solution in conflict situations.
I don't think you want to know more.
- Is it too early for you? - No don't worry.
- I was awake. I have good news. - Oh yeah?
James Ellroy accepted a meeting. His French agent confirmed this.
I am happy for you.
How are you? I was worried. I didn't hear from you.
I left you some messages.
I'm fine.
Nothing else?
I'm fine.
I understand that you need to be alone, to protect your work
and that you can't talk to me about certain things.
But that's too much.
It's dangerous.
- Let me help you. - Come back, then.
You know I can't.
We are unable to communicate. You are locked.
We're not at war, I'm not your enemy.
Sometimes, I wonder if someone has taken possession of you.
Delphine!
- Oriane. - You good?
- Sorry, I lost my mind. - Yes I know. Immersed in writing.
- You live in this area? - No, in Montreuil.
We went to the pediatrician and promised her a ride on the carousel.
- Mom, can I go? - Yes honey. Go, I will come later.
Don't go alone. Just watch.
I followed your requirements.
No interviews, no public signings, no trips, block everything.
- Thanks, but... - I've done it all.
After reading your email, you haven't heard from me.
- I can't wait to read your book. - What email?
You wrote to tell us to leave you alone until you finish the book.
It's true, I'm sorry.
I'm really focused right now.
I have to stay alone a little longer. But I will see you again soon.
- I have to go. Good luck. - Thank you.
Well?
A total disaster.
They unmasked me.
Cops arrived and they accused me of identity theft.
And now, I'm on probation.
Come on, stop joking.
It went very well. They didn't suspect anything.
Think about it, we could exchange identities.
I can do it again if you want. I'm sure it works with your friends too.
I'm ready to prove it to you.
- Are those your old diaries? - Have you peeked in my things?
No, it was there.
You are lucky to have written it.
I started at 12 and I quitted when I had children.
- 15 years of memories, stories and sketches... - And teenage phases.
- Those are your memories. - Not my best years.
What are you looking for, you already have all this.
- I'm not looking for anything. - You must face reality.
Stop! I can't stand this anymore.
Stop bothering me. Nobody cares about this.
- To your readers, yes. - It only matters to me.
There is no perspective. At best, it's boring, at worst, distressing.
Building a perspective is a form of fiction.
So why wait?
- Wait what? - What you're just talking about!
I'm sorry for yesterday.
I just got bad news.
I had to write Depardieu's autobiography. You want some?
I've never been comfortable with men, but Depardieu is different.
Yes, he has another facet.
Just before signing contract, he met someone else.
A man, obviously.
And the book was taken away under my nose.
I feel betrayed.
On the other hand, I understand, men's brotherhood and the rest.
- Who was it? - François.
He won't come home for now. He had to accept the third season.
Maybe you need it.
- Need what? - Put some distance.
You are fragile.
He's certainly your companion, but he always invites and praises other writers.
I am not jealous. Not that way, anyway.
One that crosses the Atlantic
to meet writers whom he considers more interesting than the French ones.
Am I wrong?
No. It's partly true, but I don't think...
It will not help you find your confidence again.
I am honored that you make an exception.
What do you mean?
- Your email. Did you see Oriane? - I don't remember writing it.
I didn't invent it.
"Dear all, as you know, I have writer's block.
This failure leaves me grand dispersion.
Please don't contact me and don't send me invitations.
I won't be giving any news while writing the book. Thanks for understanding."
You wrote it, right?
My mind was in chaos when I wrote it.
Thank you.
I started to worry.
I made tea. I got you some Bourgeois wine from Mariage Frères and some macarons.
- I have to tell you something. - No, I have to tell you something!
You wrote to my friends asking them to cut off all contacts.
Of course.
I did it to help you focus.
Don't you think you've gone too far? You should have asked me first.
I'm here. Isn't that enough?
- I can't believe. - You need peace and solitude for the book.
Which book?
The hidden story that you owe to your readers.
Listen carefully.
I never wrote to please anyone and certainly won't start it now.
You are responsible for the love you have aroused.
And how the hell do you care? Stay out of it.
Don't tell me what to write! Who are you anyway?
I found a hotel. They will come and get my bags later.
- No. - I see that my presence is a burden.
I was hoping to help you regain your confidence. I'm sorry that I was wrong.
- Are you alright? - It hurts.
Don't move. Stay still. I'll be right back, don't move.
Delphine!
Tibial plateau fracture.
Congratulations.
It could have been worse.
When I saw you in the ambulance... I was scared.
Four weeks like this... who can make it?
Why don't you move in François'? It would be easier.
He's abroad, I can't go alone.
I need some rest.
I'm exhausted.
- If you want, I'll come with you. - Are you sure?
Yes, I have to write too. So it's perfect.
I need a few things. Clothes, bath stuff...
I'll take these.
Pass me the keys.
- I'm happy to see you up again. - Not bad.
- Things you bought before slipping, I have them. - No, Thank you.
But the strawberries were smashed during the fall.
- If you need me... - No, I'm fine. Thanks for your help.
- Nothing. Take care. - Thank you.
Some shitty weather.
Like when I met my husband.
I was stuck in this traffic.
Someone knocked on my window. A handsome guy in a leather jacket.
I unlocked the door and he went in.
What did he look like?
Tall, robust, with a beard. Very manly.
I liked his smell. A mixture of wet leather and tobacco.
I will feel uncomfortable if it was me.
I wanted Jean as soon as he entered.
I approached an alley and went to a shabby hotel
and we spent a night of passion.
How old were you?
19 and him 28.
He was a mountain guide, then. He had even climbed K2, but...
he had an accident and was forced to stop.
Later he worked as a courier, barman...
He also wanted to be an antique dealer. He wanted to do everything.
It's all clear now.
The way we met and how she came into my life.
It is obvious. It's about Elle I have to write.
But you have to talk to her about it.
God, no.
If I do, she won't talk to me anymore. I will let her come to me.
Be careful. You said she was dangerous.
Of course, I will be cautious.
I want to write about real life. Hers looks more like a novel, not mine.
But you need her to open up, you said she's very reclusive.
Yes, but she's coming with me. I'll be smart. Call you later.
- Would you bring me a coffee, please? - OK.
- And an M&M's.
- Are you Delphine Dayrieux? - Yes.
I am the librarian of the Balzac high school in Tours.
Of course.
- In order to invite you we have corresponded. - Yes, I recognize you.
No, I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of meeting you, Mrs. Dayrieux.
But I did came to your school...
You have some nerve!
- Don't you remember? - No, I don't remember, Mrs. Dayrieux.
Because you never came to visit us.
Let me allow myself to refresh your memory.
You didn't even have the courtesy to warn us or apologize to us.
We will no longer encourage our students to take any interest in your writings.
I wish you a good evening.
- What did she want? - Nothing. Only an admirer.
We agreed to spend a month in an alpine shelter.
Then he changed his mind.
It was my fault.
- Your fault? - He was on rehab at that time, but I insisted we go together.
It's my fault.
- We are not responsible for the others. - No?
I'm not so sure.
One day, a storm broke out.
- Were you alone at the shelter? - Alone, yes.
Bored to death. We read a lot, and stopped having sex.
The wind blow endlessly for days made me crazy.
Finally it stopped blowing and I went out to get some air.
Alone?
He didn't want to come.
I was walking in the woods and...
I heard a gunshot behind me.
I went back to the shelter and then...
I found his body.
His head had exploded. Blood everywhere.
It's terrible.
It's been a long time.
I was alone after my mother's death.
- Then there was the fire. - Really?
The whole house went up in smoke.
Fortunately, I had a friend. My best friend, Kiki.
Kiki? You never talked about her.
- No? - You said you didn't have any friends.
In fact...
Kiki doesn't exist. I had an imaginary friend.
Kiki was a pretty girl with red hair.
I dreamed of running away with her.
Where nobody could have bothered us.
- Yes?
Already wake up?
- I didn't hear you. - I've been awake for a long time.
- All right? - Yes.
Good. I let you work.
We are here. It's going as I hoped.
- She's biting it. - She is?
She thinks I'm focused on my past, she's telling me everything.
Not in chronological order. All fragments.
I have to connect them together.
I would like to record them, but it is too risky.
- I have to hang up.
- What do you want for lunch? - Whatever you want.
It's a little too early to say, but...
I'm putting ideas together for my new book.
- Really? - A very personal book.
To re-examine myself with personal point of view.
- Do you mean an autobiography? - Yes.
I can't say anything else, it's not in shape yet.
A sort of confession.
I can't even use the computer or take notes on paper yet, but...
I can make some records.
- Is it your "After" book? - Yes.
It will be difficult.
But you were right.
It's time to face it.
I never told you, but...
my mother also committed suicide.
I found her lying in the corridor...
In her yellow flower dress that I liked.
I was 4 years old.
I curled up next to her and stayed there like that... for hours.
It's February 7th.
I'm starting to write again. Vocally, if necessary.
She opened up yesterday. She told me some of her memories.
That's a start.
I have to win her trust. I know how to do it.
She had an imaginary friend, Kiki. She wanted to run away with her.
Kiki told her they will have a new life.
The whole house burned, went up in smoke.
Tall, robust, with a beard, manly.
They were alone in the shelter. She found him with his head exploded.
Can you stay still for two minutes?
Now, however, you're good.
Or I'll break your other knee too.
Tell me who you are writing about.
No. Confidentiality agreement is longer than the contract.
- I won't tell anyone. - You'll let it slip out.
Who is it? An actress? A politician?
At least tell me if I'm close. A singer? An athlete?
Catherine Deneuve? Kim Kardashian?
Rocco Siffredi.
Imaginary friend Kiki
We close them, no?
Mice!
- Mice. There are mice here! - I get it.
Did you see a mouse?
I saw two running towards the basement.
Calm down, it's nothing serious.
Come on. Sit down. Take it easy.
We will get rid of it, we will buy traps. It's nothing.
Can you close the basement door?
I left it open.
Pass me the crutches, please.
I went to the city, they don't sell these here.
Traps, rat poison. I took everything. We will exterminate them.
The shop assistant was very kind, it's just...
Just what? He's wizard?
You have to do it. I'm not going down there.
Sorry for everything... it's a real phobia.
- Surprise from local market. - Take them away!
Usually, I like lemon without sauce, but your sauce is delicious.
It's nothing like that, it's a simple American sauce.
- I can't make this cook anyway. - Do you want more?
No, thank you, I'm full. Already ate up two plates.
- I'll open another one. - All right.
My father... he was drinking three per day.
After my mother died, I stayed alone with him.
He scared me, he was violent. He...
He...
All my inherited flaws were coming from him.
He locked me up, literally.
When he died in the fire, I finally felt free.
- What happened?
It seems like an arson.
- Who set fire? - They never catch the culprit.
- Any ideas?
In my opinion, it was Kiki.
I'm preparing fish soup for dinner.
Soup? Great.
You said you like soup so much.
You're burning, we have to bring down the fever.
Hello?
No, it's not Delphine, I'm a friend of hers, Elle. We don't know each other.
Where are you, excuse me?
I can't hear you.
In Wyoming?
No, she's in bed. She has food poisoning.
Nothing serious, she will call you back.
"I'm starting to write again. Vocally, if necessary.
She opened up yesterday. She told me some of her memories.
It's a start.
I have to win her trust. I know how to do it.
She mentioned a fire.. .
but not much details.
I'll get it out of her.
She said her mother also suicided..."
- I made you a broth. - I'm not hungry.
- My stomach hurts. - It will not heal, if you don't eat anything.
I can't.
Try again.
- Please... - Try it.
Please, please...
That's enough. Leave it there.
I'll eat it later.
I'm sorry for making you a broth.
I made you some hot chocolate.
I can't call François back.
If it's important, he'll call you again.
- I want to inform my children. - It's done.
You must drink. You didn't eat anything.
Be reasonable.
Force.
Enough with the whims, drink.
Come on, drink!
Delphine!
- Delphine! - Yes.
- It's Raymond! - Yes.
- Delphine!
- I'm here.
Yes.
Guys! Guys...
Come and see.
Hey!
You frightened me.
Explain to me. Does this have anything to do with me? Is it my fault?
Because of all my travels?
I took the first flight.
You are lucky.
They found you in time.
Why did you want to kill yourself?
I didn't want to do it.
The Analysis shows cocktail, sleeping pills and thallium sulfate.
In other words, rat poison.
Does this mean anything to you?
Do you remember talking to her on the phone?
Was she acting strange when she answered my phone?
Delphine, you must believe me. I've never talked to Elle, do you understand?
- I understand. - Never, it never happened.
OK.
I kept calling, but the phone was off. Off, get it?
- So I called Raymond. - Raymond?
Raymond, our neighbour.
Windows all locked so he knocked on all the doors and windows.
- Was it Raymond? - Why didn't you answer?
- Because she poisoned me! - All right.
Oh well, don't believe me.
I believe you.
Sorry if I made you wait. Come.
Come in and take a seat.
I love it so much!
Provoking, captivating. Your best work ever!
Karina, I haven't written for three years. I didn't send you any manuscript.
- But I received your manuscript. - Someone else wrote it. It's Elle!
A fiction that makes you into vertigo...
Based on a True Story
I'm so happy to meet you. I'm really impressed.
You're a part of my life. I love your work and this new book is...
- Who is it for? - For me, Delphine.
We have the same name.
I can't wait for the next book.
Hello, Mrs. Dayrieux...
To Elle.
Based on a True Story
Elle is her in French