The Rules of the Game (La Règle du jeu)

"Jean Gaborit and Jacques Durand reconstructed this film

with the approval and advice of Jean Renoir,

who dedicates this resurrection to the memory of André Bazin."

THE RULES OF THE GAME

A Dramatic Fantasy

"This entertainment, set on the eve of the Second World War,

does not claim to be a study of manners.

Its characters are purely fictitious."

"Sensitive hearts, faithful hearts

Who shun love whither it does range

Cease to be so bitter

Is it a crime to change?

If Cupid was given wings

Was it not to flitter?"

You're listening to Radio-Cité. It's exactly 10:00 p.m.

We're here at Le Bourget airfield,

working our way through the crowd that's turned out to welcome

the famous aviator André Jurieu,

who has just performed a tremendous feat:

Crossing the Atlantic in 23 hours!

A record comparable... Watch the cord!

A record comparable only to the one set a dozen years ago

by Charles Lindbergh.

The crowd's moving!

Jurieu has arrived safe and sound, executing a magnificent landing.

The crowd is invading the airfield and crashing the police cordon.

The minister couldn't make it, but he asked me to convey his admiration

and sincerest congratulations.

It's really the plane's doing.

Not at all. It's a fine achievement.

Octave!

André! Am I ever happy! Not about your flight!

It's you I'm glad to see! It is you, isn't it?

Is she here?

She didn't come?

- She didn't come? - She couldn't make it.

But I did this all for her!

I know.

Mr. André Jurieu, a few words for our listeners.

Just a few words. - What can I say?

You just flew solo over the Atlantic.

You must have something to say. Anything. You must be happy.

I'm very unhappy.

I've never been so disappointed in my life.

I made this flight for a woman.

She's not here to welcome me.

She didn't even bother.

I tell her this publicly: She's disloyal!

The great aviator has performed a stunning feat.

But remember, it's cost him a great deal of effort,

and he's exhausted.

My purse, Lisette.

He can't really talk.

But we have here with us an engineer from Caudron.

Jurieu's aircraft was manufactured by Caudron.

It's a standard model with a 200-horsepower Renault engine.

The copilot's seat was replaced by an extra fuel tank.

You're a hero, but you just behaved like a spoiled kid.

If Christine won't see you, serves you right.

- I couldn't face her now. - Get some sleep first.

Tell me, Lisette, how long have you been married?

- Almost two years, Madame. - That's true.

How time flies! Are you happy?

My husband's no trouble.

He's in service at the château and I'm in Paris.

With you, Madame, I'm very happy.

- Do you have lovers? - That's a big word.

Of course you do. Octave, for example.

Give me my evening lipstick.

- I don't know where it is. - Oh, yes, you do.

I don't like it. Too purple.

It doesn't look natural.

What's natural nowadays?

And your lovers... What do they say to you?

Not much.

- Do they kiss you? - If I let them.

- Do they hold your hand? - It depends.

- And then what? - Then what?

Same old story: The more you give, the more they want.

My scarf.

Nothing doing. Men are all the same.

What about friendship?

Friendship with a man?

When pigs have wings!

- Good evening, Madame. - Good evening, Lisette.

- Mitzi... - Yes, Madame?

- Did you take the dogs out? - Yes, Madame.

- Where is Monsieur? - In his study.

Calm has returned to Le Bourget airfield.

The crowd is breaking up peacefully.

The victory reception is over.

We've just witnessed an event that will go down...

- We're late, my dear. - As usual.

A new one? - I got it today.

It's a romantic Negress. In perfect working order.

I prefer it to the radio.

So, you heard what André Jurieu said?

I can well imagine what he thought. He'd risked his life.

How could you have refused him

that small token of affection

he must have pleaded for so touchingly?

He mistook it for love.

Men are so naïve.

How happy that makes me!

Thank you. - It's nothing.

Telling lies is such a heavy weight to bear.

Lies... Don't exaggerate.

Would you call me a liar?

I trust you completely.

Do you?

Excuse me a minute, my dear.

Madame de Marras, please.

Is that you, Geneviève? I must see you.

Then come over now.

You're going out with Christine?

In the morning, then.

Not at 10:00. Yes, 11:00. Be realistic.

La Chesnaye must be in a state.

- So why does he have a wireless? - Progress.

You call that progress? I call it exhibitionism.

I feel sorry for Christine, because she's a foreigner.

And because you have a crush on her.

No, but it must be hard to leave the life she had in Austria.

An artist's life. Her father was a famous conductor in Vienna.

And to move to Paris where nobody speaks her language.

- Why did she marry? I didn't! - Oh, you!

What's on your mind?

A maxim by Chamfort. It could almost be a precept.

What does he say?

"Love as it exists in society is merely the mingling of two whims

and the contact of two skins."

If I understand you right, you want to leave me.

Last night I suddenly decided to be worthy of my wife.

I see the family picture: Knitting, the slippers and lots of children.

Exactly. I sort of feel now that I've had my fun.

All this because of the radio and André Jurieu.

How perceptive you are!

Let's say we do split up.

What would change with Christine?

Why, everything.

Nothing! She's remained so Austrian.

A Parisian woman would understand. Not her.

If she found out, it's not our affair she'd hold against you,

but the fact that you lied from the start.

She'd never forgive you.

I know.

Believe it or not, you mean a lot to me.

I don't know if it's love or force of habit,

but if you leave me, I'll be very unhappy, and I don't want to be.

My dear, I'm so sorry.

I didn't intend to hurt you, but put yourself in my shoes.

A good thing you're weak.

I take after my father.

The poor man had such a complicated existence.

Let's go to lunch. - With pleasure.

I don't know if it's this sentimental talk,

but I'm famished!

No, old man! Go on if you want, but I'm walking home.

- Don't leave me alone. - Damn your problems!

Since you got back, you haven't stopped bending my ear.

And now you drive us into a ditch.

Thanks, but no thanks!

Are you hurt?

I wonder if I'm not dead. I hit the roof like a feather.

It's rattled my brains.

Want to kill yourself over Christine? Go ahead, but without me.

- Understand... - I do. You're nuts!

- So I'm nuts! - Get help and get off my back.

You'd gladly see me put away. You love her, too.

Sure I do, in my own way.

So you can't have her like a glass of wine.

Get this: She's like a sister to me.

We grew up together.

Her father, old Stiller, wasn't just the greatest of conductors.

He was also the best of men.

When I went to study music with him in Salzburg,

he treated me like a son.

I never got to show him my gratitude.

Now I can. He's not here to look after his daughter anymore.

So I can and will look after her. She needs looking after.

She's a foreigner among people who don't speak her language.

If you want to make her happy, let her come with me.

Because I love her.

Seeing her with that idiot La Chesnaye!

Him and his hunts, château and mechanical birds!

A two-timing snob!

He may be a snob, but he's got his feet on the ground.

Your head's in the clouds.

You put your foot in your mouth, like on the radio.

At Le Bourget when you got back.

You're back from America after breaking all sorts of records.

You get a hero's welcome. Ministers make speeches.

But instead of modestly and calmly playing your part as a national hero,

instead of giving radio audiences the twaddle they expect,

you start sounding off about Christine. In public!

No wonder she won't see you!

But I did it for her, for her alone, understand?

She encouraged me. So when she didn't show up...

She's a society woman, and society has strict rules.

I don't need lectures.