ALL FILMS ARE PART FICTION.
NO FILM CAN FAITHFULLY REPRODUCE THE COMPLEXITY OF A HUMAN LIFE.
EACH TO HIS OWN POINT OF VIEW.
MESRINE: PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE
OUTSKIRTS OF PARIS NOVEMBER 2, 1979
It's a relief for them.
- How many men? - About 30, no more.
How long did you follow him?
I'll have details later.
- No police error? - Absolutely not. Just look.
- It went well? - Yes.
Two agencies cooperated. Anti-Crime and Special Tactical.
He opens the door. We know he's armed.
Two defensive grenades.
We issued a warning, he didn't surrender.
If he doesn't let the truck pass he's on the ring road. He gets away.
Jojo.
Stretcher!
Enough. Let's get out of here.
One second.
1973...
Thursday,
March 8th.
Statement
by Mess-teen,
Jacques...
Hey, typist.
What breaks first, the cuffs or the radiator?
It's not Mess-reen. It's May-reen.
As in Mirosmesnil, not Miro-mess-nil.
- Or Rosny, not... - OK, Mesrine.
Your buddies, Grangier and Ardouin.
Never heard of them.
Hey, I never heard of them.
Mr Jacques!
Aircraft carrier.
Good to see you again.
You put on some weight?
- Fuck that, I'm on a diet. - Yeah?
I can tell.
Here, I'll prove it.
Always ready.
The aircraft carrier!
Clear.
- Where the fuck you going? - Let's do this one too.
Hold-up! On the floor!
On the floor. Let's go, old lady, hurry up!
Don't move!
Don't you move either! Hear me?
Don't move.
Fill that up. Put the money in. Hurry up!
Fill it up! Hurry!
Hurry up.
Let's go, let's go!
That's two!
So the teller recognised me? Hooray for the teller!
And Granger and Ardoum, too.
MY ass!
I said I don't know them.
My partners always wear masks. Tell your teller to eat carrots.
We plucked you like a daisy.
Nothing to strut about.
Don't move!
Give it up, Mesrine. Police.
Robbery, attempted murder, you admit.
But not the stolen cheques?
I don't mind being honest about what I did, but...
I won't confess to stuff I didn't! It's logical.
We'll have to transfer him to Compiégne court.
You're going inside.
And for a long time.
I bet I'm out in three months. Are we on?
What now?
I need to use the john.
I'm sick. Want it on the judge's desk?
Make it fast.
Do I wipe myself with my feet?
Wait.
A fag or he likes sniffing shit?
A little privacy.
I'll shit on the floor. Give me some slack.
Slack!
There.
I swear.
Hurry it up.
Be right out.
That's better.
Mr Mesrine, your appearance...
Your Honour, it's not legal to appear in handcuffs.
It violates my rights.
You lecturing me on the law is comical.
You won't need your hands.
Your Honour...
That's enough, Mesrine.
Everybody down!
You, uncuff me!
Get it off, hurry up.
Fat guy, against the wall!
Hurry up!
Nobody move! Nobody! Got me?
You come with me, Judge.
Nobody move! Lie down!
Get up. You don't move!
Move it.
Don't move!
Drop your guns. On the ground, fuzz!
Everybody! Nobody move!
You move.
This won't help you.
The yard.
Put the heater down or I'll off him! Put it down!
I'll shoot the judge. Get back inside!
Inside!
Get back in your truck! Now!
Call for back-up.
Hurry!
Fucking hurry!
- Why not keep the judge? - Drive!
Move it!
Give me my piece!
Back up or I'll blow you away! Back up!
I'll blow you away!
Out of the way!
Robert, he got plugged. Can you do something?
I got it. Yeah, fuck.
Come on.
- Jacques, news from home. - What?
Your dad's in the hospital.
Let's take care of you.
Shit.
Jacques Mesrine has done worse, but never as audacious.
He chose the site of his escape.
When arrested last March, he contested a prior conviction.
He knew he'd be re-tried here, in Compiegne courthouse.
When he asked to use the bathroom yesterday,
it was because his accomplices...
He's talking about me.
Returning to the courtroom, he was armed.
"Get down or I'll kill the judge!"
I never said that!
Never!
For policemen all over France who underestimated him,
there is no doubt that Mesrine
must now be considered public enemy number one.
Number one!
Hello.
Dad.
It's me.
It's Jacques.
- You all right? - Why did you come?
The banks were closed. I figured I'd visit my father.
You came.
Did you see your daughter?
Not yet.
You know...
I wasn't much of a son. I'm not much of a father either.
It's how I am. What can I say, Dad? I'm sorry.
It's how I am.
It must be my fault.
Whatever happens, Jacky... you're still her father.
I know.
And you're still my son.
I'm sorry.
Forgive me.
You better go now.
I know.
His mother, his kids, his father's employees. Nobody else.
He's not stupid enough to come.
PARIS, SEPTEMBER 1973
What happened? Walk into a door?
No, boxing.
You box?
Michel boxes.
Can you drive?
We got a little set-up in a few days.
Interested?
Re series of hold-ups,
suspect vehicle is a grey Renault 16.
7791 Yankee Libra 75.
Suspect vehicle located.
We've located the suspect car.
Public streets are not a trash can. And you're illegally parked.
Step out of the car and let me see your paperwork.
I'm waiting. Step out, please.
Don't move. Hands behind you.
Out of the way!
Beat it!
Stop!
Get out!
Open the door!
Get out!
Don't move!
Go!
There!
We'll take La Chapelle.
Turn right.
That way!
There!
Fuck!
Come on!
Move it!
Out of the way!
We're good. Come on!
Take a seat!
Nobody move!
- Eyes down! - Fuck, my ear.
I told you he couldn't cut it! He's a geek.
You almost got us nabbed.
Fine, you were right.
I'm sorry. Now give me a break!
A break? The cops got him. So what do you think?
He'll flip like a pancake.
Fuck.
Listen up.
A guy I choose never flips. Got me?
Fuck you.
Never!
Since you're so smart, you work it out alone.
Fuck off, Mesrine.
Get out of here.
Leave! Everybody out!
Let's go, let's go.
Commissaire Broussard.
Do we wait much longer?
I'll let you know.
My guys have been on the roof for eight hours. It's raining.
I noticed. I'll let you know.
Pain in the ass!
Police! Open the door!
Give up. You're surrounded.
Police. Give it up. The building is surrounded.
What?
What's going on?
Who's there? What do you want?
Come out, or I'll bust the door down.
Fuck off! I'm with the Baader-Meinhof gang.
I'll blow the place sky high.
Long live the revolution!
Get dressed.
Yes. Wonderful.
Thank you.
Quit it, Jacques. You're overacting.
- Who's calling me Jacques? - Robert Broussard.
Commissaire, anti-crime unit.
Broussard? The chin beard?
The one who gets his picture in the papers?
That's right.
Now stop all this and surrender.
First off, fuck you.
Secondly, how do I know it's you?
Slide your card under.
And get shot through the door?
Same goes for me when I pick it up.
That's true.
You have my word. You know who I am. I don't lie.
I won't shoot.
Come on, Broussard.
Be brave.
All right, Jacques.
I'm waiting.
There.
Well?
Broussard.
I need two favours.
If they're reasonable.
First, the girl with me. Leave her be, she's irrelevant.
Second, give me 20 minutes. I got stuff to do.
Anything else? A car and a chauffeur?
I get that anyway.
No choice. It's that or war.
Well?
Twenty minutes, Jacques.
Twenty!
What do we do? What do I do?
Give me something to do.
What will they do to me?
Those matches on the table.
On the table.
Will they arrest me?
Put me in jail?
I don't want to go to jail.
Relax, relax.
I can't...
Shut up!
All right?
Shut the hell up!
What will they do to me?
Calm down. It'll be fine.
Calm down.
What are you doing, Mesrine?
You setting us up?
I said 20 minutes, not 45.
Broussard,
got the balls to come and get me with no gun and no vest?
Why should I?
To see if you can.
I would anyway.
Broussard, coward.
Sure you fight in my weight category?
Well, Broussard?
I'm going in.
All right, Jacques.
I dropped the vest and the gun.
You got the balls to come out unarmed?
What do you call that?
Hey, artist. For posterity.
Broussard's moment of glory.
If you say so.
Wonder why I didn't off you and your boys before?
Cops don't think, they act.
There was a lady.
That's the only reason.
There was a lady.
Next time, no ladies. And no champagne, Broussard.
Just you and me.
So...
Till we meet again.
LA SANTE PRISON PARIS, 1973
Guard.
Guard!
What do you want, Jacques?
Who is this guy? Pinochet?
He's a Chilean general.
A Chilean general?
Some bum named Pinochet gets page one. Not a line about me.
It's a coup d'état.
A coup d'état?
Find me a typewriter.
I'm going to write.
I'll see what I can do.
Go, yeah.
Can you explain this?
MARCH, 1977
That's my book.
It's not a book, it's suicide.
You're on trial in two months and you publish 40 murder confessions.
Right now,
every policeman in France is perusing your book.
They'll compare it with cold cases and they'll go and dig up corpses.
If they dig, they better dig here.
Why?
It's not true?
People like pace. Action.
And?
Anyway, no jury will think I'm stupid enough
to confess stuff that will get me the guillotine.
You know, on the street...
I'm a star.
You amuse people, but you scare them too.
If they can assuage that fear by locking you up, they will.
You're so middle class, Counsellor. It's a sight to see.
The judge allowed a visit.
I grew up.
I can see that.
I'm not a baby any more.
You're beautiful.
Thank you.
And your brothers?
Boris and Bruno are fine.
They screw around a lot.
How strange!
Don't get on motorcycles with punks.
Doing the father thing again?
You're not around to watch me.
Be careful anyway.
When will you be back?
Not right away.
I'm sorry, baby.
This is no way to see each other.
It's better.
If I want to see you, I know where to find you.
I miss you.
Jacques Mesrine,
you still deny any relationship
with Ardouin?
I told you, I don't know the guy.
Mr Ardouin, please rise
so Mesrine can see you better.
No, I don't recognise the face.
With that schnoz, I'd remember!
Do you deny taking a judge hostage
to cover your escape?
What?
Like any good citizen, I sought judicial protection.
What's wrong with that?
Do you still intend to escape once again?
Your Honour, behind that 101 Dalmatians scarf,
you should know
that when in hell,
escape is a right. I'd even say...
it's a duty.
And moreover, it's a business.
I never speak unless I can back it up.
Ladies and gentlemen, do you know what this key is?
Know what it is?
It's just the key to my transfer handcuffs.
Look at the face they're making.
Want to know how I got it?
I bought it from a prison employee.
For 3,000 francs!
Journalists,
jurors,
that's the state of the system the DA strives vainly to uphold.
As Commissaire Broussard, clever as usual,
is seated near the reporters...
Commissaire!
Check it yourself.
And why do you possess so many arms, Mr Mesrine?
Your Honour, how can I put this?
An inexplicable feeling of danger
has dogged me since childhood.
Don't complain. I take care of my enemies.
Less work for the police, more for the ambulance men!
He has forged the image
of a pleasant man.
An outlaw, of course,
but who wouldn't harm a fly,
even treats his victims kindly.
What a joke!
Nothing more than a pretence, to cover
his ruthlessness!
There are no clean gangsters.
There are only gangsters.
And you are a gangster, Mesrine.
You shoot whenever necessary.
When things go wrong, you go all the way.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
you must apply the law and impose sanction.
There is no society
if there is no sanction.
So I'm public enemy number one?
That's all bullshit.
I'm the enemy of one public entity. Banks!
Of course... I rob them!
So, hey, they don't like me.
But when I rob a bank,
I don't feel I'm breaking the law.
I'm just robbing a bigger robber than myself.
Want to toss me in a hole?
Throw away the key and forget?
Go ahead, toss me in that hole.
But I'll escape.
I will escape.
You can count on that!
The court and jury, by a margin of eight or more votes,
sentence
Pierre Vandhoren
to five years in prison, suspended,
Michel Grangier
to a term of seven years in prison,
Michel Ardouin,
to a term of ten years in prison,
and defendant Jacques Mesrine...
to a term of twenty years in maximum security.
MARCH, 1978
Mr Bernard, got a light, please?
Sure, Mr Jacques.
Thank you.
- Hi, Luc. - Hi, Jacques.
Hi.
Why the exercise? Got plans?
You can answer me.
I'm Jacques Mesrine.
So? What are you doing in my yard?
Around here, I pretty much get what I want.
I can see that.
You know...
I've escaped three times already.
So have I.
Yeah, but...
maybe...
I'd like to do it again.
Name's Frangois Besse.
So I heard.
No news of the Christian Democratic leader
whose execution...
Search!
- ... By the Red Brigades last night- In Rome, Victor Brave.
It's now been 52 days since the Rome police...
Search!
When Aldo Moro was kidnapped on March 16th,
Italians were shocked by the murder
of his five bodyguards.
Though much was said about Aldo Moro's fate...
It's the foil wrapper.
All right.
Your lawyer's here.
Chief!
Inside. I'm cold.
Two minutes. First we get Jacques in.
Two minutes.
Hello.
What's going on?
About this Canada thing.
I don't have the file.
No problem.
Chief!
- What is it? - We need a file.
My neighbour has it.
I wanted his advice.
- Besse? - Right.
Did you hear?
Get the file, please.
All right.
Thanks, Chief.
This gets out, I'm disbarred.
- That's my whole life. - Don't worry.
You're saving my life,
I won't mess yours up.
This will work.
It's working already.
Mesrine says you got his file.
We got a problem.
Step back.
Besse, what are you doing there?
What's going on here? Against the wall!
Gun!
Strip! Hurry up, get undressed.
Don't look at me like that.
The trousers!
Hurry up, faster!
Look at the wall. Hands up!
Shut up!
Wait a second.
Let me come.
I'm doing life!
Easy!
Let's go, girls. This way. Hurry.
The cell!
Hurry up!
Listen to me.
You're an inmate, got it?
Here, take this.
Don't move!
Shut up and walk, got it?
Shut up.
Get down.
Get down. Move your ass.
Get the ladder.
Anybody want in?
Nobody?
Too bad for you.
Move your ass.
Don't move. Lower your gun!
Throw your gun down!
Throw that piece down!
Against the wall!
- Take this. - What?
Ladder against the wall!
Hurry up!
Take your jacket off.
Take it off, goddammit!
We're good!
Give me that.
Come here.
Francois, gloves.
Cover us.
- Cover us! - I got it.
Cover us!
One move, I'll blow you away!
Hook it on!
Sir!
Police requisition.
Hurry up!
Get down.
Get out of the vehicle.
Quick.
- Get out! - Out!
Get the hell out!
Come on!
Quick!
Come on!
Hurry up!
Let's go!
Horror to the end. The Red Brigades' challenge to all Italy
ends in forfeit and murder. Aldo Moro is dead.
The Christian Democratic president lost his life to the cruel gambit.
No 10th communique' was necessary.
An anonymous caller
spoke of a car bomb
near Communist Party headquarters.
There was no bomb,
but a man in the back seat...
a dead man, Aldo Moro.
Fuck, where were you?
Let me know.
Jean-Luc,
it's my pleasure to introduce
Princess Annie
and Princess Christiane.
Good evening.
My cousin Jean-Luc. He sells guns, as you can see.
Sit down.
Be nice to him, please. Be very nice.
Look at him. He needs it so much.
Are they real?
Don't touch!
So...
Bruno.
Jean-Luc?
Come here.
Help yourselves. And don't touch anything.
Don't touch the pistols.
Be right back.
- Well? - What are these bimbos?
- Not bimbos. - What are they?
Jacques Mesrine has escaped. Though we avoid sensationalism,
we must report, public enemy number one
has been free since this morning.
This is his third escape,
each more spectacular than the last.
Jerking off to lingerie ads!
Two inmates were with him. One was shot and killed...
You like salad, I like a pink taco. That's what I'm going to eat.
Francois, don't...
Don't ruin this for me.
We're going. Your friend doesn't seem well.
No, come here.
Annie! Francois, what is this?
Stay.
You're scaring Annie. Turn the TV back on, please.
Don't believe the press. Nasty bunch of liars.
We'll have to move.
Again? Hey, Francois!
Was that you on TV?
Call me Jacques.
Jacques Mess-teen'?
May-reen. Jacques Mesrine.
Nice to meet you.
Chief Detective Vaugier.
Division Inspector Heriot.
Your supervisor in?
I'm the station chief.
Always so many of you here?
All the way from Paris to check my duty roster?
Don't give me lip, Officer.
How many on duty usually, in the evening?
About ten, total staff.
What did I tell you? Not bad.
Why?
Lately, have you heard of any activity at all
concerning those two nutcases?
Besse and Mesrine.
You think they'd dare try something around here?
With those two, you never know. Right?
Anyway, watch the little guy. He's the worst.
Henri, we better not linger. We got work to do.
Thank you, sir.
See you soon. Well...
Not too soon, I hope.
Supposed to be a handful. It's a regiment.
Come on. Even with an army, they're just chicken-shit cops.
Counterfeit bills, you say.
You want to check the vault for them.
That would be best.
Got a warrant?
- Our police ID. - No, a warrant.
A warrant.
A warrant. You want a warrant?
I got a warrant. Look.
A nice warrant. A Warrant Zevon!
Fill that up, old man.
Hurry it up.
Let's go, the vault!
The vault.
There.
Hurry it up.
Don't look at me like that.
- Ready? - Ready!
Come on!
Come on, fuck!
OK, go!
Hang on!
Search party, fall in!
No way!
- It's dead. - Shit.
Close the ranks!
Attention!
Detail ready!
That's OK, but my leg...
Report to squad command!
Search detail,
deploy!
Give me your tie.
Right face!
Move out!
Jacques Mesrine and an accomplice held up
the Deauville casino late Friday night.
Ditching their car
in the woods south of Bernay,
the gangsters are in the area. A police effort is under way
to apprehend them.
Enough, huh?
There. That's better.
See these threads?
Thanks for the threads.
Well.
What do you think if, instead of school,
we went for a nice drive?
With your uncles Francois and Jacques?
And Dad,
and Mum,
if she wants to go.
Let's vote.
I want to go.
Francois, what do you say?
That's two of us.
Dad?
There.
And Mum?
And the kids.
There! The whole family agrees.
A good thing.
OK, let's go.
Watch your back.
Come here.
What's your name?
Daniel.
You know the back roads to Chaufour?
You take them and you let us off there.
All right?
Otherwise...
Need me to draw you a picture?
Good.
Go ahead.
Let's go, move it up!
Move it up!
Ma'am.
National Guard.
Though 300 guardsmen combed Alencon woods south of Bernay,
despite the dogs, helicopters and SWAT team squads...
What's this?
A roadblock.
Open the trunk, please.
Put up the armrest, radio off!
Put up the armrest, kids.
Oh, my God.
Move it out, please. Move out.
Stop.
Ma'am. Anything to tell us?
We're going to check your car.
Please step out and open your trunk.
Stay calm, children.
Goodbye, ma'am.
National Guard.
See anything on the road, sir?
National Guard. Stop the vehicle, please.
- I'm tired of this. - I said stop.
- You OK, kids? - Yes.
I left at 4 AM.
We have to check, sir.
Chase Mesrine, don't bother us!
Sir, don't argue.
Keep it down.
I got nothing in the back! See? Nothing.
Don't argue.
You can go. Go ahead, sir.
You can go.
There's nobody here.
Daniel, come here.
Come here, Daniel.
Here.
For the clothes, and your silence.
All right.
How much you give him?
100,000.
For rags? What a businessman.
Stop.
You were good.
We're with the mobile guard unit...
There.
We can cross there.
Look.
Here, give me that.
Look.
You doubt.
It's obvious.
Look. You're a doubter.
All right?
Keep going.
You can stand here. See?
You don't trust me.
Little deeper here.
Come on.
Here.
This is good, this is good...
Look out. This is no good.
Hang on. Hold this.
- Why? - I'm going to toss it on the bank.
It's too far.
Trust me.
- Don't. - Trust me.
It's too far.
Shit!
Look out!
Come here, Francois.
- It's sinking! - It sank.
That was your share.
Enough.
What's that over there?
Look. What's that?
Oh, shit.
A boat.
Search parties continued through the night
and new searches were organised in other regional forests.
Police are now convinced the fugitives left the target zone
before deployment, and are enlarging the search area.
Hello.
So? What will you buy me?
Champagne.
The best. Do you have any Cristal?
Of course.
A bottle.
What's your name?
Sylvia.
And you?
What's your name?
What's my name?
This morning I read my horoscope.
What did it say?
That I would fall in love.
PARIS, JULY 1978
So Isabelle?
You brought my little gift?
Thank you.
- Can we start? - Sure, Isabelle. Open fire.
Why do you do all this?
Because I don't like laws.
I don't like laws and I won't be a slave to my alarm clock.
I won't dream my life away.
I won't pass every store, thinking "That'll cost me 10 months work." No.
What do you want from this life?
Glory? Money?
What a question.
Money, money and more money.
We live in a world of exploiters. But I exploit no one.
What do I do?
Look for money where it is. In the banks.
And politics? Are you right or left?
Neither!
It's all corrupt. I don't need to tell you that.
I can't trust the mind of a politician.
Would you say you're a dangerous man?
Dangerous?
What do you think?
Yeah, maybe.
I don't know.
Why do you say that?
Dangerous. That all depends.
With armed cops, yes. I have no limits then.
Come on, shoot!
Good one. That's a keeper.
Dangerous...
Maybe.
Maybe I am.
How do you think you'll age, and die?
Frankly, I don't think I'll live to be very old.
They'll shoot me down. I'll die.
It's logical. It's the outcome.
And anyway.
A man who's been in an MSA, a Maximum Security Area,
has every right.
So I have every right.
Isn't that a little dark?
Do you have plans?
Lots. Always lots of plans.
I'm going to close the MSA's.
I did five years there. Know what that is?
Five years in an MSA?
I'm going to spring the guys inside.
I've seen men cut down, torn apart, broken.
And if Mr Alain Peyreffite of the DOJ doesn't get it,
I'm a nitroglycerin specialist!
I'll rub out judges if necessary-.
Want a French Baader-Meinhof gang?
Do they want the Red Brigades? They better wonder.
If I have to go train with Palestinians, then I will.
We'll blow it all up.
Something to drink? Coffee?
With pleasure.
Sugar?
You're in Paris Match.
It's about time.
Here.
Today's menu - leg of lamb!
I don't know about you. I'm sick of Brit food.
"If I have to train with Palestinians, I will."
"if Peyreffite refuses, I'll unleash violence worse than Baader."
I said that.
And I Will.
"I'm a nitroglycerin specialist."
Keep going.
"...rub out judges if necessary." What is this bullshit?
It's not bullshit, it's revolution.
- What? - Revolution.
We're crooks, not wild-eyed idealists. We don't try to break the system.
See that, baby? Typical small-fry.
Because he's small,
he thinks small.
I don't act high and mighty.
I don't have a vendetta with the state.
Fine,
but don't ask me to autograph your copy.
Wipe your ass with it.
Come on.
Francois, come and eat.
I don't work like this.
It's using the press.
That's all.
We better talk this out.
If you say so. But over dinner.
Come on.
Bring the defendants in.
I got us a golden opportunity. Listen.
We're going to kidnap a millionaire.
What for?
What kind of question is that?
To take his money.
And believe me,
the one I found is really something.
No one will cry.
An old piece of shit
who rents slum apartments.
The real thing, trust me.
Wait.
After that, you know what we do?
We get some bazookas,
Francois,
we go after the MSA's.
Listen, Jacques. Attack the MSA's, why not?
But then where do you lead me?
Oh, boy. After that...
The truth is you'll never stop.
You want to tear the system down.
I want it to stand so I can milk it.
You're a spinning top. Worst part is, you don't realise it.
A top?
A top.
What is that expression?
I don't know tops.
SARTHE, JUNE 1979
Is Mr Lefévre in, please?
I'm his son. And you?
Commissaire Vaugier, police. Do you mind?
What's this about?
Your father owns some buildings. We want to ask him about that.
- I'll get him. - Thank you.
How can I help you, gentlemen?
Some of your tenants filed a complaint for poor conditions.
We need you to come down to the station.
- Can't you do it here? - How would that look?
All right, let's go.
It shouldn't take long.
Tell Charles to get the car.
No need. We have a vehicle.
We'll bring you back when it's over.
Fine, then let's go.
Thanks for your cooperation.
As of now,
you're in the custody of the Palestine Liberation Front.
Palestine?
What's that got to do with me?
I rent apartments in Paris.
I'm not even Jewish.
No problem.
You'll give it up for me. Jacques Mesrine.
Mesrine?
Will you keep me long?
Unless you pay the piper, you can't go home.
How much you want?
10 million. Cash.
No, that's too much.
At that price,
I'm 82, there's no point.
Just kill me now.
You'll give us eight.
What do you mean, no?
You don't decide. Stupid bastard.
- Give me seven and that's final. - No!
How much were you thinking?
Six,
in four payments.
Four payments?
First, it's three payments.
And you fuck with us, I'll kill you for free. All at once.
Got that?
Yes.
Got that?
Yes, yes.
This guy's too much.
Good food, excellent cognac. In the end,
we're not so different, Mr Mesrine.
We like fine things.
And if, to get them,
one must extort money from an honest worker,
Why not?
That's bullshit. We're totally different.
You're an exploiter.
I'm a revolutionary.
Not the same thing.
Mr Mesrine, know how to tell a revolutionary from a gangster?
What is this, a riddle?
A revolutionary
would have put a bullet in my head
and left my corpse in the trunk of a car.
And never asked for a cent.
On the other hand, a gangster asks for ransom,
picks up his money and frees me.
That's what you'll do.
That is good.
There's a third possibility.
I get the money, put a bullet in you, toss you in the trunk.
Never thought of that?
Then all that stuff in the papers,
"Mesrine, the honest bandit,
whose word is his bond,"
that's all bullshit?
In Belgium, the arrest of Mesrine's co-escapee, Francois Besse,
who teamed up with Mesrine
on several hold-ups since then.
Recently, Besse had parted company with public enemy number one.
In the Brussels suburbs police apprehended him with three others...
Poor Francois.
Tipped by French anti-gang police, the Belgians...
Nabbed by Belgian police. You got to be really stupid.
If I know him, he won't be in long.
All right.
Lapin chasseur, Mr Jacques style!
Let's eat.
Yeah. Nothing's happening.
Let me see.
It's been an hour.
When do we go and get the money?
Let him simmer.
Always let them simmer. You never know.
What's that car stopping near Lefévre?
Let me see.
That prick.
I told you.
That's fuzz. Fucking shit-eating cops.
Watch this.
We'll test their windshield.
Show up with cops?
Try to double-cross me? I'll make it worth your while.
Scumbag.
Holding pretty good.
Time to go.
Your son betrayed me! There were cops everywhere!
I swear it won't happen again.
It better not. For your sake!
I'm telling you.
So!
Good news and better news.
Grandpa's going home soon,
because sonny boy
made the first payment.
And the better news, look:
Come on, smile. I'm taking a picture. Hold this.
It's almost over.
Smile and say cheese.
BESSE: A "MESRINE-STYLE" ESCAPE
Here.
Really. 600 grand. Isn't life wonderful?
Hello.
Welcome to BMW. Let me show you...
Enough. I want that.
Right away, sir.
Not the good... Really not the good.
Nor the bad
I don't give a crap!
Look at this baby.
Go ahead, sir!
Look, another out-of-towner.
Where's the police?
There we are!
Try that one.
Beautiful!
How much?
You're under arrest.
You like it, Fripouille?
Gorgeous.
Mesrine has thought of one thing
since his 20-year sentence a year ago
in May, 1977. Escape.
But he'll probably be re-captured. He can't not talk,
not justify his status as public enemy number one.
PARIS, AUGUST 1979
Charlie.
Charlie Bauer, the invisible man.
You're a hard man to see.
Let's say I'm not as free as you are.
I have a group, comrades I answer to.
Yeah, right. I forgot.
Your far-left comrades
who tell you how to drink, eat, who you can see?
You think, alone, you can smash the system?
I don't think.
I know I'm doing it.
You seen the papers?
Have you read my book?
Part of it.
I didn't like all I read.
It's got nothing to do with who I am
and what I'm about.
I don't mind saying if we had met in Algeria,
it wouldn't have been side-by-side, but face-to-face,
gun in hand.
I know that.
I'd have killed you.
You better not have missed. We have nothing to prove...
I'm going home to my little family.
But keep in touch.
If you need anything, don't hesitate.
Sooner than you think.
My friend.
What is that behaviour?
What is that?
What behaviour?
Strutting your crumpet all over.
Why do I bother? You're just a piece of ass.
What?
- Remember where I picked you up? - What?
Nobody picks me up!
Unless you got a little...
Nobody picks me up.
Nobody buys me.
If you respected me, you wouldn't say that.
Respect?
You talking to me about respect?
After you pull that girlie shit with my friend?
What friend?
Listen, he was in an MSA. Like me.
That's enough to know who he is.
Francois was your friend.
But you...
you want the last word, so you always wind up alone.
And that's how you'll end up, Mesrine.
Alone.
Why?
You're going to leave me? That it?
Why do you say that?
What's the matter?
You don't love me any more?
I want us to leave this place.
- We'll leave. - You're lying.
- We will. - You lie. We will not.
You'll get yourself killed, Mesrine.
No. No one's going to die.
Promise me.
I promise.
Promise me again.
My mummy!
That's not Mummy. Show them in, hon?
A land of human rights, where humans are resigned, docile, kneeling.
True. Then they throw you in a hole, make you a beast or a corpse.
We must tear down this repressive, regressive system,
that continues even beyond sentencing.
As you know,
compared to the MSA, the guillotine is almost a favour!
One, tear down the prison walls.
Two, liberate our comrades inside.
Three, raise an army with them.
You want to beat the system?
Hit them in the wallet.
Rob banks. That's what I do.
Banks have always got hit. They still stand.
Want to know why?
What do you do with the money?
Besides buying jewellery for Sylvia and big cars for yourself?
Friend, you don't destroy capital. You flatter it.
I've escaped four times. That's not bad.
How many times have they caught you?
Ever think of that?
It won't happen again.
Now they have no choice.
They have to shoot me down.
At least that way,
I die this side of the wall.
Kitty!
Can't have a conversation.
She busts my balls.
On the other hand...
What?
I quit that shit. Bad for your health.
You think you'll die of that?
You never know.
Tell me you're happy.
I want us to leave.
While we still have some money.
We'll stay a little while longer.
Then we'll leave the country.
In the meantime, don't worry.
As long as we're together, nothing can happen to us.
You're beautiful.
I love you.
So do I.
I think it's Charlie.
You know Dallier?
Jacques Dallier?
A fascist asshole.
Converted hack, working for a motherfucking rag,
but who still snitches for the cops.
A scumbag.
Read this.
Read it!
Read that!
"Mesrine,
the Dishonourable Bandit...
Me!
...who betrays his friends and doesn't keep his word."
Cocksucker.
What are you going to do?
Come on, let's go.
Get in.
Tell me, Dallier,
has your paper, Minute, always been for the MSA's?
Minute is too extreme. Stinks.
With this scoop, I can afford to live on an island.
An island? What's wrong with the French countryside?
France?
She used to be a great lady.
Then, in '40, what does she do?
Lies down for Hitler.
In '60, she kneels for Arabs.
Gave Algeria to the natives. Crap!
Algeria doesn't belong to Algerians?
And America to the Indians?
Who built a nation? The white man or the savage?
Dallier, you were a cop. What do you think of the police?
Assholes.
A bunch of bunglers.
They shit in their pants over you.
The "Great Jacques" and "Mesrine". Pathetic.
The police in October '61, that was something.
They straightened the Arabs out.
But back then they had Papon.
Good boss, Papon.
If I were you, I'd watch out for Broussard.
He's working on your daughter.
Yeah? You think he'd stoop to that?
I should know what kind of shit they pull.
That's for sure.
What about me? What are their plans, do you know?
To rub you out.
No question about it.
Wait.
Gum?
Kalashnikov. Good weapon.
Let's go.
Take this.
Walk.
Back there.
Move it.
Can we start the interview?
I managed to meet Jacques Mesrine, who's agreed to answer questions.
- Are you Jacques Mesrine? - So I'm told.
You are Jacques Mesrine?
I don't know what you've been told.
There's fear in your eyes.
- You scared? - No, I'm not.
You look uneasy.
I'm just surprised.
About what? Your paper wanted to see me, right?
So you kidnapped Lefévre?
Put the mike down.
Do what?
Put it down. Strip.
Your clothes!
Want a scoop?
Here it is.
Let's make it believable.
Let's go, strip! Drop those trousers.
So they know you sweat for it.
People can't think you're with us.
Because you're not.
But you said...
Let's go.
You want a scoop?
What are you going to do?
Let's handcuff you.
So it's more realistic.
You'll look cute.
Hands.
Set the stage.
"Bu-t, but"...
Shut up!
Now let me explain.
It's no longer Dallier interviews Mesrine.
It's Mesrine interviews Dallier.
Wait, I...
- What's your name? - Wait.
What's your name? What's your name?
- Jacques Dallier. - That's right.
That's a little faggot name.
Faggot!
What's the rag you work for? Tell me!
Minute.
That's right, Minute.
What is that? Isn't that a fascist paper?
You wrote an article in there about me? Was that you?
Not me.
At least be honest. It's better.
It was you!
You wrote an article about me.
Faggot, was it you?
I'm not straight with my partners?
You said I'm not straight?
You soil my reputation?
My partners are right there. Ask them.
Faggot!
Shitass reporters who soil my reputation,
I pump them... full of lead! Lead!
I'm going to show you what we do in Algeria.
You're going to croak.
Stop!
Not that.
We're not fascists. He is.
Stop.
Blow him away. It's over. We're done.
You're right.
No, we made enough noise.
He's gone anyway.
See the papers?
What?
That cocksucker Dallier is alive. Imagine?
So what? That's even better.
Better? How? It's a catastrophe.
I said not to send the pictures. Even sympathetic press is shocked.
Screw them.
A right-wing piece of shit.
Not even a reporter.
A snitch.
Those considerations
mean shit to journalists.
Dallier has press ID. You hit one of theirs.
"One of theirs."
What does that mean?
Look,
just read the papers.
From now on,
our days are numbered.
See you later.
Hello, my love.
Certainly, if you're listening to this, my sweet Sylvia,
then I am no more.
Just a souvenir of my voice, of the two of us.
Yes, my dear. Your husband is dead.
Fallen under police fire.
You know, honey,
when a man has chosen to live by the sword, by theft,
by violence,
he doesn't often die in his bed.
After all,
knowing whether it's me or the police that fired, that's not the point.
My death is no more senseless
than dying in a car crash,
or working for a factory boss.
So.
Death, in the end, doesn't exist.
Death is nothing to someone who knew how to live.
At least I can say
I didn't waste my life.
Criminally, you can't succeed in life. But as for the heart...
As for the heart, I had you, my love.
And being a criminal,
I had made a choice.
I chose to be...
comfortable through crime,
always targeting... well, almost always, I think...
the well-to-do, the rich.
Anyway,
once I'm dead, I'm guilty of nothing. I've paid.
The odd thing is,
some will see me as an example, a hero.
But in reality,
there are no heroes in crime.
Only men who've chosen to live outside the law.
I died gun in hand. Even if, who knows,
I never had time to use it.
The only thing I know is, if you're listening to this tape,
then I'm in a cell from which there is no escape.
NOVEMBER 2, 1979
Robert, your newspaper.
BARRE'S HOMAGE TO ROBERT BOULIN
Boulin will be old news tomorrow. What do you think?
What do I give a shit?
Coming out, coming out.
The redhead is outside.
Poodle on a leash.
Walking away.
Up Rue Belliard, toward Mont-Cenis.
She'll be there in three seconds.
Dom here. She stopped.
What's she doing?
She's looking all around.
A man coming out.
Looking around.
Fuck, it's the big guy!
Coming closer. No, up Belliard.
Crossing Mont-Cenis.
Fuck, he's a big one.
Walking away. Toward you, Gégé.
All right, I got him. Walking up Rue Belliard.
I lost him. Where is he?
Gégé, you got him?
I don't see him.
Shit.
There he is.
He's walking very slowly. A half block behind the redhead.
He keeps looking all around.
Fuck!
What if he finds out the tarp is a decoy?
What do I do?
- Relax, he won't... - Shut up!
He's looking at the van.
He's coming. I'm going off the air.
Gégé.
I don't see them.
What do you mean?
They were right in front of me.
Can you spot anything?
I got nothing. Nothing.
Calm down.
I got nothing. There he is!
All right.
Mesrine's here, with the girl. In a brown metallic BMW.
83 CSG 75. I repeat...
He's backing up to the building. It's yours, Jojo.
The BMW is backing up.
Coming toward me.
He's stopping.
They're getting out, her first.
She's going to the building.
He's getting out.
Toward me.
Stay calm.
He's coming at me. What do I do?
Jojo come in.
Jojo!
He leaned up against my car. I nearly shit my pants.
She's putting stuff in the trunk.
She got back in the car.
They're driving toward you, Gégé.
Got it.
Coming up Rue Belliard.
Coming up Mont-Cenis. We got him.
In a few days, I go to Milan with Charlie.
Milan?
Why?
To meet some friends of his. Red Brigades.
Not taking me?
Can't this time.
The BMW just passed me, moderate speed.
Red light at the corner.
Don't sulk.
We have a new apartment. You can fix it up.
Without you it's no fun.
The big guy just stopped, behind three cars.
Set it up for Clignancourt. Don't let him on the ring road.
I won't be gone long.
Dom here. Coming to Ornano.
Love me?
Yes, I love you.
The light turned green.
Heads up.
The BMW is moving.
Jojo here, headed for Clignancourt.
I see Clignancourt. We're good.
Shit!
Think of that. I was born not a mile away.
BMW coming, I see it.
BMW is on site.
Goddammit!
- Go ahead. - Let him pass.
Get out!
I said out! You don't hear me?
I said get out.
My dog!
On the ground!
- You killed my dog! - Don't move!
You killed my dog, you assholes!
Don't move!
The cuffs.
Let's go.
The dog.
Get the dog to a vet.
Seal this all off.
Where did the truck go?
It's over.
He's dead.