La Rafle (The Round Up) (La Rafle)

All events in this film, even the most extreme,

truly occurred in Summer 1942.

6th JUNE, 1942

No Jews - By Order

Hi, Raymond.

Weismann. What are you doing there?

Can I go to school with you?

The star, is that right?

What's the problem?

We're Jewish, aren't we?

And proud of it, too!

Come on.

How about that!

They seemed like such good kids.

At least now we won't get them mixed up.

Field Marshal,

here we are!

Facing you, the savior of France

We swear, we're your men

We're here to serve and follow you

You could've waited for me.

Mum insisted on walking my brother and me to school.

You've given us new hope

The nation will be reborn

Field Marshal, here we are!

Right, the first one of you to mention that blasted star

gets his arse kicked. Clear?

Yes, sir!

File in, two by two.

In silence, please!

C'mon, lads.

When surgery can do nothing, as with the faces

of these Great War vets,

a facial prosthesis can be fitted.

This technique...

Stand up, ladies!

Please sit down.

Now then, ladies...

You may have been told that Jews

have pointy ears, hooked noses and goodness knows what else...

Curtains, please.

As you can see, your fellow students look just like you.

That's why you will help Esther and Sarah

to escape through the courtyard if the Germans arrive.

I'm relying on you.

Thank you, ladies.

100,000, Field Marshal.

Vichy, unoccupied France

How many did you say?

100,000 Jews. Foreigners, most of them.

Even so, that's rather a lot.

How many Israelites do we have in our own camps?

10,000. The advantage is that they're foreign Jews.

If the Germans take back the scum

that's fled here since '33, I've no objection.

Neither do I, obviously.

But...

10,000 falls a long way short.

Offer them to the Germans, though.

I have.

Just in Paris,

over half the Israelites are French nationals.

Not to mention their children, all born in France.

The Germans won't take the children.

Won't they?

Not for now.

What are we supposed to do with them?

- Hello, Violette. - Hello, children.

- You coming, Simon? - Yes.

- Hi, Tati! - The terrible twosome's back!

Hands off my radio, you!

Don't worry.

Evening, Ida.

- Good evening, children. - Evening, Captain.

Hi there.

How's my little tiger?

Hi, Mum.

You're all sweaty.

Look...

Top of the class again.

What have you forgotten, Simon?

Can I go with him, Mum? Please, can I?

Don't be late. School's not finished.

- Okay. Thanks. - You have homework to do.

- Hi, Dad. - Don't forget my tobacco!

Don't worry.

That was André Claveau and his Orchestra.

Now the racing results.

At Auteuil, the Princes' Handicap

was won by Isaac.

The horse's name, not the jockey's, of course.

Now they wear yellow stars, it's a shock

to see Paris crawling with Jews.

Hard-working Jews!

In Montmartre, I counted 268 yellow stars.

A victim of its own generosity, France has been swamped.

Sura!

Which means?

Explode with an onion up your arse!

That's the third time this week.

Put a sock in it! We have a job for you.

What kind? Hope it's nothing like the last one...

When a viscount meets another viscount

What do they say? "Viscount, how are you today?"

When a marquis meets another marquis

What do they say? "Marquis, how are you today?"

Come on, Nono, let's go!

It's just some little Jewish scamps.

Wait for me, lads!

Don't be so mean!

- Tomorrow, we'll try a posh area. - What's "posh"?

Rich, you mug.

The rich leave a long stub.

We'll visit the Eiffel Tower, at last.

What's that?

Remember that exhibition? "The Jews in France"?

What a load of shit!

It's not even scientific.

- Looking at your profile... - What about my profile?

It makes you wonder.

Very funny.

What was that stink at the bistro?

Their sauerkraut. It's chock-full of pork.

Germans don't eat kosher?

It's dark in here!

We'll die of suffocation!

I'm late for my customers.

Who are they for?

The Traubes.

Some people have such lovely things.

Look at Renée's blouse!

Hands off, you!

Titanic's on at the Gaumont.

You know Hitler blames the Titanic sinking on us?

Really?

Iceberg. Another damn Jew!

- How can you joke about it? - Rachel, my girl...

Read me Gone With The Wind instead of grumbling.

Rachel!

You'll only cry again.

It's good to cry if it's not for real.

I've got a head this big and I hate Jews.

Jews won't be laughing for long.

With this prophecy, I will have the last word.

They will disappear from the face of the earth,

annihilated and obliterated!

We must hurry, Himmler.

Before the international community starts an outcry.

Have you read Sun Tzu?

The Art of War.

Remind me to give it to you.

Everything is taking place

as I described in Mein Kampf.

Page 771, mein Führer.

They must learn to take me at my word.

Mr. Jacques first, by the church.

We've done him.

And those loaves...

Go on, scram!

This isn't a circus! It's a respectable business!

Why doesn't the baker want Jews in her shop?

Because she only likes barb-aryans!

- What's going on? - Get lost!

Thank you! Pancakes, yummy!

Simon!

Hello, Father.

Hello, boys.

The Nazis and collaborators forget something.

Why did you call him "father", the man in black?

What's that?

Their Christ was a Jew!

- You're joking? - He was some kind of rabbi.

And they don't know?

Why'd you call that man "father"?

If he came back today, their Christ,

he'd be wearing a star.

Blow me down!

The man in black isn't your father. And that's all!

31 Avenue Foch, Paris. Gestapo HQ

It's too premature.

You promised to hand over your Jews.

I promised nothing.

- I said... - What's wrong, Bousquet?

- I said I'd talk to my superiors. - That's a joke.

Don't let your resolve weaken so close to our goal.

Must we bring troops from the front

to do the job ourselves?

You couldn't!

- You imagine refusing? - I didn't say that.

- 100,000 Jews is too many. - 20,000 isn't enough.

The Führer would not understand if you refused to cooperate.

He'd interpret it as provocation.

An insult.

Look,

you empty it out like this.

Careful you don't make a mess.

Sura, did you see my rolling papers?

No, that's not the tobacco.

It's the solvents, the paint.

My papers, darling?