Jean Valjean (2025)

[bunniefuu]

Dark theme

The women chat and laugh.

Mine.

A young girl tells.

- In the first days

of December 1815,

about an hour before sunset,

a man came into town.

He presented himself to the police station.

Nobody knew him.

Where did he come from?

From the South.

From the seaside, perhaps.

Men laugh, hubbub.

Never! Candy.

Oh...

- Where were you? How long

does it take you to wash clothes?

It's true, where were you?

- I missed you.

Come on, come here.

Come! The jug breaks.

Can't you be careful?

Isn't it enough for you to be late?

I will deduct the price of

the jug from your wages.

And try to be more

friendly with customers.

It's my tour, guys.

He breathes deeply.

Unintelligible words

- A woman:

- He's a convict.

Look at him.

Hubbub

- I'm sorry, I can't see you.

These gentlemen have

reserved all the rooms.

The stables will do the trick.

- The horses take up all the space.

- I need a little.

Well, it's already too much.

- I walked as soon as the sun rose, I

covered twelve leagues, I am hungry.

And I have nothing for you.

The customers are silent.

Just a piece of bread.

- Come on, go away.

Disturbing theme

Someone throws rocks at him.

- A child: - Starve your hunger!

We don't want you here!

Assassin!

The storm is brewing.

The dog growls.

Growl

The dog is crying.

Don't move!

The storm is brewing.

Intriguing theme

Squeaks

- What are you doing here, my friend?

I'm trying to sleep.

On the stone, outside?

I've had worse.

So go to the inn.

Alas,

you have no money?

- I only have four cents.

- Always give.

We could accommodate you.

Out of charity.

I knocked on every door.

And everywhere, I was chased away.

There's a house

down the road there.

Did you knock there?

No.

- Hit it.

Hmm?

My cousin's neighbor

was the one the

police were looking

for, the counterfeiter.

Evil is everywhere.

They even arrested his wife.

The prosecutor says he will

obtain a confession within the week.

What if he is innocent?

- In that case, what is he doing in prison?

- Good question.

What should we do with an

accused man before he goes to trial?

Leaving him free means taking

the risk that he will do it again.

If he committed the act

for which he is accused.

To put him in prison

is to treat him as guilty.

And this, even if he is innocent.

- These people are

scoundrels, they are everywhere.

One even came to town today.

Yes, miss.

This man would be dangerous.

They say it is horrible:

ugly, hairy, stinking.

The horror.

Certainly a bohemian, a

man of sacks and ropes.

- Really?

- As I say.

There are going to be

misfortunes, everyone says that.

- Everyone, that's

a lot of people.

She coughs.

- Let me tell the locksmith

to put back the old

locks, we have them there.

- At this time?

- It's three houses from here.

He will be happy to be useful.

His sister is a friend.

It's a matter of a minute.

- Madame Magloire, there is no

need to invent the pretext of the lock

to go see your good

friend the locksmith.

These are slanders, Monseigneur.

- Stupidity spewed by jealous people.

- We could put a latch.

So we are in serious danger?

- We do not see the

door open to all the winds.

- Talk to him, he doesn't listen to me.

- If that reassures Mrs. Magloire.

- At least for tonight,

until this danger is over.

We would even let

the devil into this house!

- Locking yourself away is

not just refusing the other.

It is also refusing what

we could be or become.

A doctor's door should

always remain open.

But you are not a doctor.

- Every man is another's doctor.

I'm a...

Someone is banging on the door.

Come in!

My name is Jean Valjean.

I spent nineteen years in prison.

I have been released for four days.

Four days that I have

been walking since Toulon.

Four days I hear: Go away.

Nobody wanted me,

I lay down outside, a

good woman told me

to knock at your house.

I knocked.

- Mrs. Magloire,

set another place.

- Did you hear me?

I am a convict.

Here is my passport.

It's used to introduce

me to the authorities

when I arrive in town

and have me chased away.

Do you want to read!?

Stayed in the penal

colony for nineteen years.

Five years for burglary.

Fourteen for trying to

escape, this man is dangerous.

So.

- I see that you have

received the rain, sir.

You must be tired.

Come closer, the

fire will warm you.

You will have supper

while we make your bed.

Madame Magloire, put white

sheets on the bed in the alcove.

Please, sir, sit down.

What is it here?

Who are you?

A priest.

A priest?

A brave man of a priest.

Who lives with two

women, on top of that.

- There are things I refuse

to hear, I will be in the kitchen.

- A man opens his door to you,

feeds you, and you slander him?

That wasn't my intention.

That's what you did.

Two men were there, face to face.

One, the convict,

was boorish, but had

hidden nothing about his past.

The other, the brave man of a

priest, was more obviously amiable,

but it remained a mystery to everyone.

A few decades earlier,

he had gone to Italy

on the arm of his wife

to come back alone and cantankerous.

The death of the one he

loved had changed him.

He had left the

century to enter religion.

He had convinced himself that he

must become a merciless servant of God,

but his transformation

was not yet complete.

And to understand the rest,

it is appropriate to return

to his first visit to this place.

- The sisters work miracles, but

we lack everything, Monsignor.

Bandages, potions and even food.

You should be able to

buy meat from time to time.

A sick person must be

able to eat to regain health.

Oh...

A man coughs.

- Mr. Director.

- Yes?

Excuse me, Monsignor.

What's going on?

- That day, the one who was

now bishop visited the hospital.

A chore he promised himself he

would never impose on himself again.

Monsignor Myriel, because

that was his real name,

had the title and all the

attributes of his position.

His Eminence

preferred to visit the rich

and frequent the powerful.

He lived as a notable, one of

those who judge and condemn.

And then, one day,

something happened.

No one knows what.

But it happened.

He changed.

But even better, he changed.

And what was a chore to run away from

became a daily event.

- Have a nice day, my friend.

- Thank you, Monsignor.

- The beds are

very close together.

It's getting worse and worse.

I am very worried about the future.

The upstairs is full, we have installed

some unfortunate people in the courtyard.

Not to mention future epidemics.

This year we had typhus.

Try to sleep.

- Space ran out and

it will happen again.

What do you want, you have

to resign yourself to reality.

We will no longer be

able to accept everyone.

- How many beds could

fit in my dining room?

- My lord, please.

- I am here.

You mean at the palace?

- To understand the

director's surprise,

you should know that

the episcopal palace

was a lordly home,

everything had a great air.

The bishop's apartments,

the galleries, the stairs,

fountains, gardens.

Everything was grandiose.

In your dining room?

I don't really know, but

I imagine it could hold

sixty patients.

At least.

So there is a mistake, my friend.

The man coughs.

You have my place

and I have yours.

Give me back my

house, I'm at home here.

The bells are ringing.

- The next day, twenty-six

patients were installed in the palace,

and Mgr Myriel took as

accommodation what served as a hospital.

- A man like that is

a gift from heaven.

He is no longer the same, he

no longer wants a bishop's meal.

If I had to listen

to him, he would

have lunch with

oil soup and bread.

It seems that it feeds

on the smell of flowers.

- These are not

very episcopal ways.

Let's not forget that it was the

emperor who made him bishop.

It is said that he abandoned his

carriage and is trotting on a donkey.

- He will donate his carriage

fee allowances to the poor

and his pastoral tour expenses.

What if he inflicted penance on himself

- because he made a mistake?

- This man is different.

He visits the poor as

long as he has money.

When he no longer has

any, he visits the rich.

He says that's where he

can find some to redistribute.

- He knew how to be

accepted by his flock.

Do you know what he was nicknamed?

Welcome, Monseigneur Welcome.

That's what they call you.

- I like this name.

Welcome corrects the Monseigneur.

I find you very tolerant.

Here, many mouths speak

and very few heads think.

Your Lordship, it is not your

place to pick the potatoes.

- A man of the Church must

kneel as often as possible

or he ends up believing

- that it is important.

- And about me?

What do they say about me?

I guess I'm making people talk.

- Let them try, they will

have to deal with me.

They know that, without you,

he would never answer his mail.

He would be

forgotten by his friends,

his cousins and the

episcopal council.

- The other bishops

prefer not to hear from me.

For them, I am an open door

and they don't like fresh air.

- Big miters, like

bigwigs, are not the fairest.

You who write so well should

write about your brother.

Great men deserve

great tributes.

- I don't have this

talent, and even, editors

would never trust a woman.

And then, Monsignor Bienvenu

would have to reveal

his whole life to us.

However, there are things

he does not want to talk about.

Monsignor is a holy man.

If you don't write this

book, someone will have to.

Some great author.

Someone like Mr. Chteaubriand.

But I refuse to let him

write that I let you starve!

She coughs.

Melancholic theme

What if we went to the garden?

Cut with pruning shears

It's very practical.

It is said that it was

a retired minister

who invented it

because he was bored.

We should never underestimate

the virtues of boredom.

- It's not the object

I'm looking at, it's you.

Hmm.

She coughs.

Why didn't you

come see me sooner?

- Your letters were intended

to put me back on the right path.

Then the tone of your

mail changed, so I came.

- Forgive me.

- And then, I wanted you to

keep another memory of me.

- You will remain the one who

defended me with our parents

when I fought.

- A saint?

- Hey...

- To the one who will write your life,

I will ask to portray myself as a virgin

with barely enough body

for there to be a p*nis there.

A diaphanous, fine and

transparent creature.

- A diaphanous, fine

and transparent creature.

Not everyone can be a holy man.

- No one is interested

in stories about priests.

Your great author would be

better off finding

another character.

In the meantime, the holy man is hungry.

She laughs.

Someone is coming.

Jean snores.

- Is Monsignor certain that he

wants to welcome this beast?

- Certain gestures

are acts of faith.

- Sit down, miss.

- Let me do my job.

- I can be useful.

I was supposed to stay a few

days, it's been three months.

You are at home here.

Shock

Hmm...

Since you are a priest,

you won't ask me for money?

- God is your host, here or

elsewhere, He is everywhere.

- Not there.

That's a shame.

Its a place that

deserves his presence.

- Don't hire me on this

ground, you'll throw me out.

You can speak freely.

Nothing will deprive

you of room or board.

Admit that the gods

rarely show themselves,

especially where

they are needed.

Neither yours nor the others.

My sister shares your questions

about the existence of God.

For my part, I admit that I try

to believe as much as I can.

- It is never too

late to meet God.

God or man, which

created the other?

Beneath the veneer of

the gods, you find man.

- This one is no better than the other.

My God...

- If it's yours, teach

him good manners.

I forbid you to blaspheme.

- You said it was a house

where you could be honest,

- without fear of being chased away.

- And I repeat it to you.

I've had my share of lies.

Too much to be

garlanded with nonsense

that we give to the low-income

earners, to the miserable.

To these, we give

legends to swallow:

the soul, immortality, paradise.

They chew it all, they

put it on their dry bread.

He who has nothing has the good Lord.

Well no.

- He who has nothing has nothing.

- What do you do with the Gospels?

Blessed are you who are poor,

for yours is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are you who are

now hungry, for you will be filled.

Blessed are you who

weep now, for you will laugh.

It's gibberish.

The poor are not happy.

To sacrifice the

earth to paradise

is to release the

prey for the shadow.

- I cannot prepare the

bed for such an individual.

Monsieur is our guest!

- The poor are not happy.

They're not pretty either.

It is better to be the

tooth than the grass.

I'll help you get rid of it.

Please.

THANKS.

- Wait, miss, I'll help you.

We must notify the police.

We will do as my brother wishes.

- Monsignor does

not know these men.

He attacked me.

He's just unfortunate.

- These unfortunate people

have nothing to do here.

These unfortunate people are already there.

Why do you say that?

- A single mother who sends

her child to boarding school

to find a way to feed

her, isn't she unfortunate?

A woman who, the day

her little daughter falls ill,

cannot care for her or see

her before she is buried,

Isn't she unfortunate?

A mother who cried so much

that she no longer has the

slightest tear, isn't she unfortunate?

- You are the sister of Monseigneur.

- So I am both.

- I say, miss, that you

are mixing everything up

and that there is,

on the other side of

this wall, the closest

thing to an angel

and a demon.

I'm going to bed.

Can you show me a hot brick?

- Of course. Let your herbal

tea steep, I will bring it to you.

And barricade yourself.

We don't know anything about him.

Monsignor did not

ask what his story was.

However, his fault is in his history.

- That's why my brother

didn't tell him about it.

There are guilty people who

are only too aware of their misery.

The best thing is to distract them

by making them believe that they are

- people like others.

- But it's an animal.

A beast.

A man.

Good night, Mrs. Magloire.

- You think I'll

be able to sleep

with a convict under our roof?

The latch, miss.

Remember to close it.

Do I scare you?

I was surprised.

My brother is not with you?

- I was looking for the latrines

while he found us some wine.

You defended me, why?

- Because I know that certain

mistakes follow you throughout your life.

Come.

For your arm.

Then I agree with you,

how could we be happy

when children work

like beasts of burden

and women sell their

teeth for 40 francs?

The price of a bunch of asparagus.

When it's not their teeth, it's

the rest, the body and the soul.

She coughs.

The night is going to be cold.

- Isn't it always cold for

people like you and me?

- The maid is right, lock

your door with the bolt.

- I have too little

time left to live in fear.

Then what do you want to happen to me?

I died a long time ago.

Intriguing theme

- I'm glad you like this wine.

Grab some cookies too.

How about taking

a few steps outside?

- This way.

- I follow you.

- Earlier, you tried to

make yourself hated, why?

I give what is expected of me.

I understand.

I doubt it.

-How do you want to be forgiven?

f you are at w*r with everyone?

I neither ask nor grant forgiveness.

- But being naughty

is an effort, right?

You have paid

your debt to society,

your rights are today

the same as mine.

- You have the right to a roof over your

head and I have the right to sleep outside.

- You will not sleep outside.

- The exception does not change the rule.

What I see in your servant's

eyes is in everyone's looks.

Myriel sighs.

I love these moments.

They make me accept infinity.

The end of the day announces

another, everything will start again.

The spectacle of nature has

always seemed invigorating to me.

And it's the time when

the perfumes are exhaled.

The energy of the world waters

us and the sky

becomes permission.

It all depends on who you are.

You believe that the

happiness of some

is based on the

unhappiness of others.

- The stars are not

enough to alleviate suffering.

Those at the top praise the celestial vault

while those at the bottom only see the night.

But the stars are there.

- Some lights

highlight the darkness.

- I had never seen

things like that.

Your wall is in poor condition.

Over there, near the stairs.

Get it fixed or someone

will sneak into your house.

Why climb over the wall

when the door is open?

Disturbing theme

I will accompany

you to your room.

Metallic ringing

- Between the large spoon and

the cutlery, it costs 200 francs.

That's double what I've

earned in nineteen years.

So.

All the justice in the world

summarized in a cupboard.

I haven't slept under the

same roof as a woman

for nineteen years.

Do you really think

a latch will stop me?

The only question you

have to ask yourself,

it's: "What time will he come?"

Someone is coming.

It's over here.

Please, sir.

Will this suit you?

I got you a glass of water.

Tomorrow morning you will

drink a cup of milk from our cow.

I milk it myself.

- I tell you that I am a

convict, you call me sir.

Who tells you I didn't m*rder?

Have a good night, sir.

Intriguing theme

Clinking chains

A man shouts orders.

A man says:

- Whatever his fate, every

time he peers into the darkness,

anyone who has known the

channel sees the same faces again.

The same proofs of the

darkness of the world.

Aaah...!

He remains forever prey

to the hilarity of darkness.

The wind whistles.

Fff...

Gue...

Crunches

It's pouring rain.

Thunderclap

Thunderclap

She coughs.

Thunderclap

Thunderclap

The man says:

- Jean Valjean had dropped

himself fully dressed on the bed.

His whole story came back to him.

Everything that had brought him there.

Dramatic theme

He had lost his father and

mother at a very young age.

All he had left of his

family was one sister.

She already had five children

when she became a widow.

He stayed and provided for their needs.

He had hired himself as

a laborer to bring bread

at home.

Pruner.

Maneuver. Lumberjack.

He accepted all work.

- Don't worry,

go get the others.

Hurry up!

The wind whistles.

It happened that one winter was harsh.

Food ran out.

Five children, no bread.

What do you want to happen?

Broken glass

Someone knocks.

This loaf of bread

sealed his fate.

Clinking chains

Disturbing theme

Stop!

If you are here, it is

because society no

longer wants you,

because you are guilty.

If you die, no one

will regret you.

So don't stand out.

Go to work.

The penal colony,

it is not just the

deprivation of liberty.

This is also forced labor.

Every day of the year.

Year after year.

The stone exhausts you.

It dries you out.

It destroys you.

Identity dissolves into dust.

Men become ghosts.

He coughs.

Time is measured by the

marks it leaves on faces.

Yet it's the scars we don't see

which are the deepest.

Those who let hope slip away.

Jean Valjean had stolen a loaf of bread.

Claude Gueux had stolen a loaf of bread.

What are you doing?

Mr. Director.

I'm judging someone.

- Four out of five flights

are caused by hunger.

Hello, Mr. Director.

Claude Gueux

was a calm man.

Shock and scream

But the prison director

had separated him from his only

friend without giving him the reason.

Lift! Lift!

My legs! My legs!

The weeks passed,

and every time

Claude questioned him

on the reason for his decision...

- Go ahead! - Take these!

The other gave him the same answer.

"Because."

"Because."

The director was one of

those men who like to abuse

of the power they have.

For what?

Because.

- The spark that such lighters

extract from such stones

often starts fires.

- Oh!

- Go ahead Claude, bleed him!

- Bleed him, come on!

Come on! Come on!

Come on! Tap!

Finish this b*tch! Go ahead, go ahead!

Bleed him!

Finish it!

This is the kind of event

that every convict witnesses

every day of his sentence.

The humiliations of one

sometimes help to understand

the behavior of others.

And what Claude had endured

was in many ways similar

to what John had endured.

Where hope should

have been found,

trust, friendship,

he found nothing.

You know what Claude

said to the judge when

the judge asked him:

Why did you do that?

"Because."

"Because."

"Because."

Hey! "Because."

"Because."

Come on, guys, I'm

in a good mood today.

I am sending you a letter of

twenty lines to a piece of bronze.

Whoever adds a

finger of tobacco, I make

him a lover, a prince,

a literary person.

So he tried to flee.

To go away.

g*nshots

To be free.

To escape this hell.

With each escape

attempt, he risked his life.

Barking in the distance Once.

Twice. Three times.

But even for this he lost his taste.

Barking

Don't squirm, it's your turn.

Aren't you going to prefer

the diarrhea bowl to freedom?

You're going to wait

out your sentence,

spend half your

money at a thrift store

to try to make people

forget what you are.

Have you seen what we

look like when we leave here?

Good people will just

have to see your eyes.

You will be marked, like all of us.

You might as well make yourself look

good while you still have the strength.

- To escape is to turn

your head at every moment,

flinch at every noise,

be afraid of everything.

From the smoking roof.

Of the man who passes.

From the barking dog.

Barking

From the path, from the bush.

Sleep.

This is another punishment.

Another wear.

Barking

Another void.

Distressing theme

All my attempts to escape

only earned me

sentence extensions.

It all cost me too much.

The years go by, those I

loved have forgotten me.

I don't know where they

are, or even if they are alive.

I don't even remember

their faces anymore.

- Then he retreated

into his consciousness.

And constituted itself as a tribunal.

He began by judging himself.

He recognized that he was not an

innocent person unjustly punished.

- Be careful!

- That he was wrong.

Ouch! Ah!

- Leave me! Leave me!

- Then he wondered if

he was the only one guilty

in this fatal story.

If his sentence was

not some kind of attack

from the strongest to the weakest.

A crime of society

against the individual.

A crime that started

again every day.

A crime that had lasted

for nineteen years.

It must speak to citizens.

- I already told you

to stop sh1tting ink!

- Canings

- Ouch!

Do you want some extra?

Does that suit you?

These questions made and resolved,

he judged society and condemned it.

He condemned her to her hatred.

Oh!

- What's happening to you?

Come on, Jean!

Shouts, encouragement

Yes, yes, Jean!

Boos

- If the grain of millet under

the millstone had thoughts,

he would no doubt think

what this man thought.

Human society had

only done him harm.

The man was still good when

he arrived at the penal colony.

He felt he was becoming naughty.

Intriguing theme

He breathes fast and hard.

He blows.

Someone is snoring.

He breaks the window.

Intriguing theme

A door slams.

He bangs on the door.

No! No!

He hits her.

Madame Magloire falls.

Metallic ringing

She breathes.

The door creaks.

He hits her.

Rustle of the wind

Birds are chirping.

Hello, Mrs. Magloire.

Hello, Monsignor.

The awful man is

the talk of the town.

Everyone chatters

and eats your ear.

- Fortunately

you're not like them.

No, I'm not like them.

Me, I'm learning to read.

Maybe one day I can

discuss great authors with you

- and understand what you are saying.

- I don't doubt it.

I don't doubt it.

Your Lordship, I repeat to you:

these flowers are useless, it

would be better to have salads.

- I do not agree with

you, Mrs. Magloire.

The beautiful is as useful as the useful.

More, perhaps.

Bring me a chair, my greatness

does not extend to this branch.

- You deserve that I

deprive you of lunch.

I found a basket.

I placed it on the edge of the well.

- This is the silverware basket.

- Maybe.

- Monsignor, where

did the silverware go?

That, I don't know.

- My God, it was the man

from yesterday who stole it.

I saw the way he looked

at the silverware last night.

And there it was, I was sure of it!

He's not here anymore, he's gone!

My lord!

Monsignor.

The man is gone,

the silverware stolen.

I told you, these

men are monsters.

- Was this silverware

really ours?

Mrs. Magloire, I wrongly held

this silverware for

a very long time.

She was for the poor.

And what was this man?

A poor man, obviously.

Alas, Jesus, it's neither for me

nor for Mademoiselle,

we don't care.

But it's for Monseigneur,

what will he eat with now?

Let's call the police.

Monsignor is too good,

he will end up naked.

I mean, you shouldn't

let yourself be robbed.

Here you are with wooden cutlery.

A bishop has the right to comfort.

Madame Magloire, an opulent

priest is a

contradiction in terms.

Your comfort is

a superfluity that

would constantly

scream in my ears:

Men are hungry, cold,

there are poor people.

And there always will be.

This is no reason to deprive

yourself of the essentials.

Even less to let yourself be robbed.

I have everything I need.

- Help me, miss.

When you have a big heart, you deserve

- honors and gilding.

- I agree with you.

My brother has a heart of gold.

But don't confuse

gold with gilding.

If you think about it,

gilding rarely covers gold.

- Was there theft, yes or no?

When there is theft, there are police.

Do we have any idea, sweet

Jesus, of receiving such a man?

A joy again that he only flew.

It's scary when you think about it.

- No need to imagine

tragedies that did not take place.

But they will take place.

That's why you have

to notify the police.

Think of others.

To the next ones that this animal will fly.

The old women he will scare.

To the good men he will betray.

We must denounce him out of charity!

I mean he... We knock.

Come in!

Stop.

Praise God.

Well done, gentlemen, we were going...

Ah, here you are!

So what?

You didn't want to wake us, but

to leave without

saying goodbye...

- We saw this guy running with a bag,

like someone running away, we caught him.

He presented us with his yellow

passport when he arrived in town.

He's a repeat offender.

- Liberation is therefore

not deliverance.

We leave the prison,

but not the condemnation.

- Monsignor, there is

what was in the bag.

Silver cutlery.

There is the coat of arms

of the bishopric on the

napkin surrounding them,

so I said to myself that...

This is a mistake.

This cutlery does come from

here, but it was given as a gift.

Jean collects the cutlery.

And you forgot...

Monseigneur, isnt that a priest?

- Quiet, you.

It is Monseigneur the bishop.

The candlesticks.

In this case.

Excuse us for disturbing

you, Monseigneur.

No.

You didn't bother me.

Gentlemen.

Ladies.

- I have no taste for

gallows or scaffolds.

- Punishment must be done,

otherwise there will be pandemonium.

And these men never

stay innocent for long.

Look at the history

of counterfeit money.

You doubted who was guilty, but

the prosecutor obtained a confession.

- Oh?

- Yes.

This prosecutor is very clever.

He made the good wife believe

that the husband was sleeping

elsewhere by showing her

letters from an alleged mistress.

The wife believed him

and reported the husband.

- Where will we judge this couple?

- At the Assize Court.

- Oh. And where will

we judge the prosecutor?

- Have a good day, Monsignor.

- Have a nice day, gentlemen.

Monsignor.

Someone comes in.

- Would you like a glass of water?

- Mrs. Magloire, isn't

it time to milk the cow?

And pick our eggs?

Goodbye, sir.

- Would you like to come and sit down?

Jean puts the glass down abruptly.

I wasn't always

the man I am today.

One day in Italy,

years ago, I...

I lost the person I

loved most in the world.

That day, I was nothing

but anger and violence.

I wanted it on the whole Earth.

I returned to religion

like others choose hatred.

My faith was that of those who

want to fight and evangelize.

A faith full of certainties.

Tight.

A missionary faith.

Everywhere I went,

I had to convince

and impose my faith.

I had learned that a hermit

suffering from the worst reputation

was at its worst.

He was presented to me

as an enemy of the Church.

A conventioneer having

voted for the death of the king.

I once again saw the

opportunity to prove my worth.

To convince a lost soul

to get right with God.

I was promised great misfortunes

when I came to see you.

Beatings and insults.

All in abundance.

- I no longer have the

energy for such welcomes.

People like to continue seeing

you according to their desires.

I have my reputation.

- You don't have

much time to change it.

- I'm at the end of

my journey, indeed.

But finishing is a simple matter.

I will die here tonight.

Under the stars.

I'm leaving because I want to.

My time has come.

I want to be free

even in my agony.

- If you are sure, it

would be regrettable

that we had met for nothing.

- If you came in the hope of

confessing to me, Mr. priest,

you will have eaten

dust for nothing.

- If I'm here, it's

because you got lost

and you need it.

- I admit having voted

for the end of the tyrant.

But it was also voting for the

end of prostitution for women,

the end of sl*very for men,

the end of the night for children.

By voting for the

republic, I voted for that.

I voted for fraternity, concord.

Dawn.

- Maybe.

But you forget the Terror.

There were 89, but

there were also 93.

- A cloud formed

over 1,500 years.

He finally had a flat tire and

you're suing him out of thin air?

- This lightning will not always

have struck in the right place.

- I will cry with you

over the children of kings

if you cry with me for the

little ones of the people.

- I cry over everyone.

- Also.

But if the balance must tip, let

it be on the side of the people.

He has been

suffering for longer.

Do not believe in the

virtues of holy water,

to the motherhood of a virgin

or the resurrection of a tortured

person with a crown of thorns

does not necessarily mean not disbelieving.

The human race exists.

- I often see the nobility

of that face again.

Time written in his hands.

This tear shed on humankind.

God is in these moments.

This man reconciled

me with the world.

Men are mothers,

but they don't know it.

Don't forget.

Never forget.

What then?

- That you promised me to become

an honest man thanks to this money.

Jean Valjean.

Besides.

Melancholic theme

- Monseigneur's sister:

- Jean Valjean was fleeing.

He didn't know what,

but he was running away.

He felt a kind of anger.

He didn't know against whom.

He saw with concern the sort

of terrible calm being shaken

that the injustice of his

misfortune had given him.

Your arm.

Come on!

Besides.

- A child: - Ah, it will be fine,

it will be fine, it will be fine

The aristocrats with the lantern Ah, it will

be fine, it will be fine, it will be fine

The aristocrats, we will hang them

Despotism will expire

Freedom will triumph

Ah, it'll be okay, it'll

be okay, it'll be okay

We no longer have

nobles or priests

Ah, it'll be okay, it'll

be okay, it'll be okay

Equality everywhere will reign

A room tinkles.

Hi.

Hi.

My coin, sir, it rolled

under your foot.

My forty cent coin.

She's mine.

This is... my room!

- Who are you?

- My name is Petit-Gervais,

I am a chimney sweep.

You took my money.

Give it back to me!

- Go away.

- Not without my coin!

- Go away, I tell you!

Little!

Little!

Come back so I can give you back your coin!

Symphonic theme

Small!

Little!

Little!!

Little!!

Little!!

Little!!

Birds are chirping.

Jean Valjean:

The story of a man is

not just the story of a man.

It is also that of

those he meets.

These are sometimes forgotten.

Because their fate

is less memorable,

less extraordinary,

less romantic.

However, there are

exceptional beings among them.

Beings who give

hope by reducing space

between what is

and what should be.

These do more than show the way.

They give you an

example of what is possible.

They give you back your innocence.

Melancholic theme

The dikes had broken.

And since it was no longer

a question of being the worst,

from now on we would

have to be the best of men.