Z (1969) 09 - Film by Costas Gavras


Uploaded by TheodorakisZ on 10.05.2011

Transcript:
The police can swear to it.
Yes.
Continue.
I was in the street and almost got run over.
Then?
I went home.
Next day, when I read the papers...
I went to the cops who put me in the hospital.
There he got lost in the halls and met that reporter...
by accident.
That agrees with the other testimony.
Yet one phrase makes me wonder.
It could change my investigation.
You're a communist.
You and Yago, too.
Something you said makes me think so.
''The rich get a cold, a week in bed.
''For the poor, a fracture means work or the grave.''
You gave yourself away.
I hate the communists!
Words! I want proof!
Only a communist would say such a thing.
I belong to an anticommunist group.
-And Yago? -Yago, too!
Which one?
CROC!
Christian Royalist Organization against Communism.
You created a storm.
Vago was jailed for collusion, and that means premeditation.
The judge believed you...
and found out Vago and Yago belong to a secret society.
Secret?
Yes. The CROC.
Anybody knows that.
The cops use them to keep order at parades.
You've nothing to fear now.
But in a year, I'll be forgotten.
No one can touch you.
Know anyone who'd show me CROC members?
I'd pay.
Sure. It's them.
So help me.
Know anyone?
Yes...
but don't say I told you.
It's Dumas.
He was born in Russia.
CROC has a hold on him...
because of trouble with his brother.
He'd like to get to Germany...
so if you can get him a passport...
I can get one through my newspaper.
-Pictures? -Here.
I've kept my promise.
Now it's your turn.
Don't like it?
Sure.
The questions?
Does CROC meet regularly?
Where?
At a guy's place on the edge of town.
Are there many of you?
Sometimes.
What goes on?
The boss talks.
Religion and the monarchy...
are the two pillars of our eternal land...
and Western Christian civilization.
If you don't listen, you get no work.
What else?
In Russia, a worker can't strike or believe in God...
or have his own house and garden.
He's crushed by a totalitarian regime.
You agree?
I even read it in the papers.
The individual belongs to the State.
Yago went to the meetings?
Always.
They'd talk about capitalists.
No more capitalists or workers...
or Left or Right.
A unified people is what we need.
We need a clean sweep...
starting with the intellectual scum.
The bookstore next-door.
He'd talk about political youth groups.
What did he say?
Unite the youth...
And give them a common ideal.
Abroad, some say, ''Make love, not war.''
We say, ''Make war on corruption and on liberalism...
''and on indiscriminate liberty.''
I say, ''OK,'' but I don't give a damn.
And Yago?
He agrees because he wants to pay off his kamikaze.
Now he'll be able to easy.
He killed the senator?
You said no accusations.
No. I'm paying.
Never.
But you can point them out to me for some photos.
That's what you wanted?
The three on the pickup.
The butcher's involved.
The fat guy owns the bar where we meet.
The barber.
The mechanic...
and the two in black.
In khaki.
Him?
An ex-boxer who lived in the U.S. awhile.
In the yard, the boss...
an officer during the German occupation.
The fig seller, a loudmouth...
always up in front for the rough stuff.
Some figs, please.
Pictures, eh?
He sells his blood and gets a good price
in case of emergencies.
He got rich selling one of his eyes to an American.
He doesn't attend meetings anymore.
His sight is bad, so he sells blood.
Not him?
Them?
Him?
No?
It looks like him.
He hit me twice...
even in the ambulance.
Write that in the margin.
Publish it in your paper.
Sign the caption.
Publish it.
Yes, but not in your paper.
In a big daily paper...
for more readers and money.
Money.
In my paper tomorrow.
I'll give the inquest judge my photos.
Don't you want to be efficient?
In a local leftist paper, no one will see it.
In mine, it's sensational news.
You recognized me?
You dishonored me.
You made me out to be a gangster.
I wasn't at that demonstration.
I have nothing to do with politics.
Let him be.
Leave.
I'm the judge.
Explain.
I'm on the front page.
Mr. Pirou says I hit him at the demonstration.
I wasn't there. I have witnesses.
Politics are a lot of crap.
I was at the market with my figs.
Your picture's in what paper?
I forget.
It arrives from the capital at 10:00.
I can't read very well.
The news vendor showed it to me and read it to me.
At the market, they think I'm a hoodlum.
I wanted an explanation...
man to man.
From the capital?
Still recognize me?
I said, what paper?
The papers that arrive from the capital at 10:00.
This morning, they didn't.
The mail plane was fogged in.
Who told you to say all this?
Yes.
I hit him. I hit him.
But I had to.
Somebody forced me to.
Who? His name?
I can't tell you.
He's too big...
too important.
I can't.
He told me about it.
Barone, your picture's in one of the capital's papers.
Mine?
One that arrives at 10:00!
So at 10:45...
you go see Pirou at the hospital.
Raise hell.
Say you're innocent. Scream and shout.
Reporters will be there. Now tell me again.
I rush to the hospital--
Get out of here!
To see Pirou.
But tell me his name.
I can't. He's too big.
All right. Follow me, please.