Au Hasard Balthazar (1966) Script

Let us have him.

We've got to have him. Impossible, children.

Balthazar, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.


Marie! Marie!

Receive the salt of wisdom.




See you next year.


There he is.


Marie, come look!

You see...

500 acres cleared, plowed and ready to yield.

Me, a schoolteacher, I did that.

I learned it all from books.

These fields aren't ours. Nothing is.

It doesn't matter. We'll be happy.

Donkeys are neat. They're fast.


She may really love him. Him too.

Him too what?

Love her too.

You don't mean?


A donkey?

In mythology...



"As I am too sad to return to this house since my daughter's death and failed to sell the farms, why not farm the land yourself using modern techniques, as you once said you'd like to?

You would have to close the school and resign."

Keep reading.

"Enclosed is my proxy for any sale, purchase or exchange of land.

My attorney will advance the funds to cover your initial expenses.

I trust you entirely. You have carte blanche.

You needn't consult me or send me the accounts."

Now he suddenly wants the accounts examined?

That's right.

And if I refuse? I'm under no obligation.

That wouldn't be advisable, what with the rumors going around.


Go on home with the donkey. I prefer to walk.

The sale of the woods started it.

We began getting letters, all anonymous, claiming the proceeds all went into your father's pocket, not mine.

But without proof, of course.

It's despicable.

That's the cost of your father's success. Envy and jealousy.

Papa's blameless. He can look your father in the eye.

I came to settle this.

Your father thinks he pocketed all the money?

He's hurt Papa, who never asked for anything in return.

Yes, it's Balthazar.

Oh, Marie, nothing's changed!

But you're prettier than ever.

Both prettier and more beautiful.

Remember the promise I once made on this very bench?

That I'd love only you?

But, Jacques, I'm not sure I love you.

Is it that hard to know?

If I don't love you, I don't want to lie to you.

Aren't you happy to be with me?

Very happy, Jacques.

You go in alone and talk to him.

Don't let this nonsense come between us.


Will I ever see you again?

One word would have settled everything, but you were too proud.

Why should I make the first move?

The boy was on your side, but you had to throw him out.

Let me have the accounts.

That's my business. I'm not answerable to anyone.

Besides, I can't find them.

Forget the insults. You'll only prove the rumormongers right.

A lawsuit will decide who's right.

If Marie refuses to feed him and stays in her room, I don't see why we should keep him.

That antiquated donkey makes us look ridiculous.

Not at all.

Ridicule is the one thing we must avoid at all costs.

I hear he does odd jobs for free, like chopping his firewood.

He's obliging and clever.

So the priest covers for him. Then why did you take him on?

I'm trying him out for a week.

Good night, Gérard.

Get out!

Right now!

I'm telling you!

Where are you going?


Then get back inside.

What are you doing here?

Looking for what's mine.

Me, I'm not a thief.

Get out of here!


Something wrong?

Gérard is wonderful.

He brought in the wood and the flour without telling anyone.

It was you, Gérard.


Don't deny it.

If you need money, ask.


I'll see you lack for nothing.

I bought you a present to thank you.

What is it?

Look there.

But I'll take back the radio, bike and money if I see you with that Marie again!

Where have you been?


We'll hide you.

You can cross the border tonight.

Don't make fun of me.

Don't mock my tears.

Why should I keep quiet? You're on the wrong track, sir.

No one asked you.

They're incapable of it.

They're braggarts and sissies. I spit on them.

Your papers.

I'll hold on to them for now.

Your hands. Your thumbs.

Holding on to me too?

Not yet. But we'll keep an eye on you. Remember that.

You can go.

Drop dead, you pig!

That's my business. I won't answer.

How do you explain that your pals answered?

How do I explain it?

Is it up to me to explain?

Since you suspect me, maybe I'm your man.

How's that?

The killer.

How? When? Alone?

These gentlemen had nothing to do with it.

You said you never thought of smuggling goods or even going near the border.

That was to fool the police.

Enough of this nonsense.

Book him.

No, I'm innocent!

For boasting and obstruction of justice!

For stupidity!

Off with you! Get out!

What do you want?

You know too much about us.

Stool pigeon!

Clear out!

I testified in your favor.

Clear out!

You fingered us to throw the police off. You're the killer.

I doubt it!

Doubt that a drunken madman like you could murder someone and not remember it?

Clear off!

So why'd they take your fingerprints?


Well, they didn't lock me up.

The courts are slow.

How long?

Months. A year, maybe.


Say that again.

Stop it!


Look how he's shivering.

It's been two months and no sign of improvement.

Poor beast.

It'll be quick.



I'll take him off your hands.

But he can't even get up.

I'll take him with me.

Being on the road cured him.

Then onto my canvas burst a multitude of structures, each with its own dialectic.

It's what the waterfall dictates to me, with no logical link between us.

Its descent sets me in motion.

Cerebral painting?

Action painting.

Can one be held responsible for a crime one commits involuntarily but forgets out of nervous shock or due to alcohol?

The conscious gives way to the subconscious.

Even to the unconscious.

The criminal may awaken unaware that he's a criminal.

Not the guillotine!

My poor head!

By Mary, Jesus Christ her son and all the saints, I swear never to touch another drop. Amen!

What are you afraid of, Arnold?


Leaving in mid-season... are you crazy?

Satan! Jinx!

Don't walk out! Stay, please!

He insulted me. Not at all.

A court that lets the other party insult me is no court.

The court will sentence you by default if you leave.

Leave him to me.

He's a waste of time. No, he's intelligence itself.

Why not just call him a genius?

Ladies and gentlemen, we're honored to introduce the greatest mind of our century!

Will someone give me a three-digit number?



Now a number between 2 and 9.

Now our mathematician will calculate.

Now a five-digit number.

Now a three-digit number.



Wake up, quick! Get out of here!

There's still time.

Too late. Look who's here.

You came back, you fool. Lucky I brought a gun.


On your feet, Arnold.

I have some terrific news for you.

Come on in! Arnold's buying drinks!

Drinks are on Arnold!

This inheritance is real?

Thanks to his late uncle's will, Arnold has come into a considerable fortune.

The will's authenticity is perfectly indisputable.

There are just a few formalities.

I knew you'd come. Why shouldn't I?

You're spying on me.

I wanted to know what you were up to.

What do you see in that boy?

I love him.

Do we know why we love someone? If he says "come," I come.

"Do this," and I do it.

Poor child.

I'd follow him anywhere.

If he asked me to, I'd kill myself for him.

Not breaking anything?

Not going mad?

Drink up, you retard.

Jerk! Moron! Leech!

Your father's suffering. He only lives for us.

The grief will kill him.

He loves his misery more than us. He thrives on it.

This is all I ask.

Come home with me now.

Or we'll bring you home by force.

Save me.

Let's leave. Take me far away.

Your father will kill you.

Papa worries himself sick over me.

If you want her, pay.

Old brother!

Going far? Leaving us?

Hurray for Arnold!

Farewell, my poor, dear friend.

Doomed to spend all your days watching the same fools go by.

Farewell, old pal.

And you, my friend.

The death certificate was sent in over two weeks ago.

If there's no heir, we'll sell them off when we get the order.


They'll go to the market.

He has sores. He needs a proper harness.

No need. I'll do him in when the rains come.

Don't throw me out.

Shame on you! Go home to your father!

I can't and I won't.

He had a position in society. You've disgraced him.

It's over with Gérard and the others.

I can't stand them anymore.

Just give me a little spot. There in the straw.

You're so kind.

If you want...

I'll give you a kiss.

Dry off and come inside.

Give me your skirt and blouse.

No one saw you come here? No one.

It's so ugly here.

This is a place to die in.

With no regrets.

Who mentioned dying?

Me. Don't you believe in anything?

I believe in what I own.

I love money. I hate death.

You'll die like everyone else.

I'll bury them all.

You're old.

Not as old as all that.

You're not handsome.

Let me eat, you old scrooge. I'm starving.

They say you hide gold coins and cash in your shoes.

What good does it do you?

Here, take it.

You're rich but you don't have electricity.

We have nothing left.

Not even the house and yard are ours.

Papa gave the creditors his last cent.

That's what happens when you place honor above everything.

He's spent his life creating obligations for himself.

What for?

Not one in ten believes he's innocent.

Do I have any obligations?

I'm free, obliged only to do what serves my interests and can bring me a profit... and a handsome profit at that.

Life's nothing but a fairground, a marketplace where even your word is unnecessary.

A bank note will do.

Paying people frees you from any obligations.

Better still, get them to work for nothing.

Not everyone sees things my way.

You quickly learn you can do as you like and still command respect.

It just takes nerve and flair.

Keep it.

It's not money I need, but a friend.

Yes, a friend.

A friend who can tell me how to run away.

I've always wanted to.

Run away?

Run away.

A friend to share my pleasures and pains.

I'll share your pains and pleasures.

But I hope it's more pleasure than pain.

She was here an hour ago.

You took her in and fed her.

She sure can eat.

She'll come home, like a stray child you find and forgive.

Yes, you'll make your peace.

He's no longer young, but he can still be of use.

Take him.

It'll make Marie happy.

I still owe you something.

Nothing much.

Hardly "nothing much."

Call it quits. Take him.

My little girl!

It's all been spoiled and wasted, just as it was about to pay off.

So much has been swept away in so little time.

We must make amends.


Father wants to return what your father lost in the suit.

He won't accept it.

He's retreated into his pride. He takes pride in his suffering.

Oh, Jacques, how I've dreamed about you, a boy like you, honest, a bit silly, who'd say, "Be mine.

It's not your fault."

What isn't your fault?

But what an awakening!

Enough to drive you mad.

You know everything now.

You still want to marry me?

You'll be ashamed of me later.

You'll never blame me for any of this?


A commitment for life?

But, Jacques, marriage... it's out-of-date.

We'll still marry. We'll be poor, but I'll work twice as hard.

You bore me.

Don't be angry.

You see our names carved on this bench, our games with Balthazar.

But I don't see a thing.

I've no more tenderness, no heart, no feelings.

Your words don't affect me anymore.

Our vows of love, our childhood promises, were in a world of make-believe, not reality.

Reality is different.

I'll love him.

I mustn't be late.

Don't go. Forget them.

I want to have it out with them.

They stripped her, beat her and locked her in.

Marie's gone.


She'll never come back.

He's in despair. Comfort him.

You must forgive. Everyone.

Much will be forgiven you. You have suffered.

I may suffer less than you think.

"God does not forsake forever.

He may punish, yet he will have compassion.

He does not willingly afflict the children of men."

Lord, don't take him from me too. Wait.

You know how sad and miserable my life will be.

Lend him to us.

He's worked enough. He's old. He's all I have.

Just for a day.

Besides, he's a saint.




Customs! Halt!