Leolo Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Leolo script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Leolo. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Leolo Script




This is my place

in the Mile-end neighborhood



in Montreal, Canada.



Everybody thinks

I'm French Canadian.



Because I dream,

that is not what I am.



Because I dream,

that is not what I am.



Those who trust only

their own truth,



call me Leo Lozeau.



They say he is my father,



but I know I'm not his son.



Because this man is crazy



and because I am not.



Because I dream, I am not.







Because he was partly hidden,



I never saw the face

of my real father.



What are you doing

to my tomatoes?



I'm giving life

to your fucking tomatoes!



Stop it, asshole,

you're gonna ruin them!



Who gives a shit?



This load

is going to America.






Faced with my mother's panic,



the doctor didn't dare tell her

she'd been impregnated



by a contaminated tomato.



Since that dream, I've demanded

to be called Leolo Lozone.



No one has the right to say

I'm not Italian.



Italy is too beautiful

to belong only to the Italians.



Between my room and Sicily,

there are       kilometers.



Between my room

and Bianca's place,



there are    meters.



And yet...



she's so much farther away

from me.



Bianca, my love...



It only takes three words

to write: Bianca, my love.



I took the shortest way.



Leo! Go to bed!






"Leolo Lozone!"



My name is Leolo!



Shuddup, bozo!

Shut the fucking door.



It's freezing.



I don't try to remember

what happens in a book.



All I ask of a book...



is to give me energy

and courage...



to tell me there's more

to life than I can take...



to remind me

of the need to act.



It was the only book

in the house.



I never wondered

how it got there.



It was thick.



The words were pushed together



and required enormous effort

and concentration



to yield their secret.



At home, I never saw

anybody read or write.



Television and billboards

cluttered my brain.



At the beginning, I read

the underlined passages



without really understanding.



I remember wanting to give up



because there were no pictures.



I find my only real joy

in solitude.



Solitude is my castle.



That's where I have my chair,

my table, my bed,



my breeze and my sun.



I sit in exile.



I sit in fake land.



Because I dream, I am not.



Because I dream, I am not.



I had started writing down

everything that crossed my mind.



My family had become characters

in a fiction.



And I spoke of them

as if they were strangers.



As far back as I remember,



it was the smells and the light



that solidified

my first memories.



My grandmother had convinced

my father



a shit a day

kept the doctor away.



Don't cry, my darling.



Do like mama.



Push, Leo.



Push, my love.



"As far back as I remember



it was the smells

and the light



that solidified

my first memories.



My grandmother had

convinced my father



a shit a day

kept the doctor away."



So, every Friday,



we got a laxative

shock treatment



to purify us from all the

diseases of this world.






Come, Leo, come to Daddy.



Come, my boy, it won't hurt.



Shit had become

a family obsession.



As far back as I can remember,



there was a rat in the bathtub.



And then, one night,

there was also a turkey...



that my mother had won

at the movie theater.



It was fat and filthy.



Its remaining feathers

were damp and stinky.



Don't cry, my darling.



Do like mama.









Push, my love.



Don't cry, my darling.

Do like mama.



Do like mama.



Don't cry, my darling.



Do like mama.



He was the worm tamer.



The tamer spent his nights digging

in the garbage of the world.



Only letters and photographs

interested him.



He carried every smile,

every glance,



every word of love

every separation...



as if it were his own story.



The tamer believes

that images and words



must mingle with the ashes

of the worms to be reborn



in the imaginations of men.



You have to dream, Leolo.



You have to dream.



It took me a long time



to understand he was the

reincarnation of Don Quixote.



And that he decided

to fight isolation



and protect me from

the black hole of my family.



Because I dream, I am not.



Just the paper.



Leave the trash.



You can't do anything

with this, it's broken.



Even if the record was broken,



I remember I kept the album

for its cover.



Leo, I'm paying you to work.



Hi, Mo.



Hey, Mo...



You still buying from

the little frog brothers?



Listen. Listen, Mo.



I can get you all the paper

you need at a better price.



No. I'm serious, Mo.



Pick up the rest, Leo,

and put it in the car.



Kid's a good worker,

isn't he?



You don't listen.



Paper is my business.



You can't go on hurting me

like this, you know. Deal?






Listen to me, Lozeau.



You'll have to pick

another alley,



'cause this one's ours.






Since that day, fear had

given my brother Fernand



a reason for living.



Kid, put some more rock.

It's gotta be heavy.



Pour it on. It don't matter

if it spills over.



Fernand would no longer fear




And when my brother

becomes a mountain,



I too will no longer

be afraid.



And I shall walk the alleys

of the world



and tell the wretched of this

earth what I think of them.



Cursed be those

who will not bow as we walk by.



Even the Arabs and the Jews

will fear me,



so tall will I be

on my brother's shoulders.



I'm an early riser.



Awakening is brutal as I crash-land

from the kingdom of dreams



unto the runway of reality.



I sleep with Fernand.

I always have.



A large bed, my grandparent's bed,



Worn out by my parents

and abused by us,



my hand scratches wads of gum

under the mattress,



from the time when my father

was afraid to wake my mother



with his boozy, beery breath.



"Cursed be those who

will not bow as we walk by.



Even the Arabs and the Jews



will fear me,



so tall will I be

on my brother's shoulders."



If you wash your hands, you can

sit down and have some pie.



Don't worry.



It's like brand new.

Still wrapped in plastic.



My grandfather was not

a mean man.



Yet, he'd already tried

to kill me.



Children, be careful

not to splash grandpa.



Come eat some chips.






I remember not being afraid.



And dreaming about

the beauty of the treasure.



Perhaps because I knew

I was already dead.



I mostly remember the whiteness

of that light



that I saw for the first time.



Albert! Let go of the kid!



Let go of him, Albert!

You're gonna kill'im!



It was a frightening cry,



a huge "I love you" that resonated

from the depth of her soul.



I love you, Ma.



My mother had the strength



of a frigate plowing

through troubled waters.



Albert! Let go!



Try to be nice,

this time, Leo.



"Leolo", Ma! Leolo Lozone.



Sure, Antonio.



But talk to the doctor,

it's for your own good.



Sometimes, at the hospital,



there were also

my sister Nanette...



my sister Rita...



my brother Fernand...



and my father.



As if my grandfather's legacy

had exploded within the family,



and that little extra cell



had lodged itself

in everybody's brain.



Good morning.



Who talks first today?



Why not you, Leo?



Because my name is...



Leolo Lozone.



And because you don't talk

about people you don't know.



Egged on by her mother,



she cried for Sicily.



Her plaintive voice

was close to good.



At the time, the few years

between our ages



seemed to me

an impassable frontier.



And I lived my desire...



in silence.



We were rarely together

at home.



And we looked like

a real family.



Will you stop day-dreaming?



You're better off studying

than scribbling.



My father was a man

like many others.



A dog that bit

his bitch of a life.



He was small, stout, jolly,



with red cheeks.



Wrinkles line his face



but reveal nothing

but the age



that dug them.



Somewhere between good morning

and goodbye,



an eternal, untouched moon

pricked by a sliver of time,



a forehead that stretched

beyond his chin



into a neck that clung desperately

to bulging shoulders.






My pretty Nanette.



I'm not mad at you.



At times, their lunacy

is harmonized.



And it was easy to visit them

in the ward on Sunday morning.



At other times,



you had to go everywhere

to see everyone.



And the corridors were immense.



Sometimes, it took

an entire day.






They stole my baby, Leo.



They stole my baby.



Those were our beautiful

winter Sundays.












with no friends...



and no light.



Hidden in the bowels

of the earth,



my sister, Queen Rita,



had become the curator

of my bug collection.









Trois fois passera



La dernière la dernière



Trois fois passera



La dernière y restera.



I'm keeping your jar of bugs.



Oh no, Rita.



Not my deer flies. Here, take

this, but not my deer flies.






Wait, 'pa!



Don't push, pa! Don't push!

You'll be pleased!



My father was as gung-ho

as a baseball coach.



My turd made him as proud

as if I'd come back from war.



My love!



My beautiful love!



She was warm and loving.



My only love.



I loved it when she pulled me

into her fat.



The smell of her sweat

soothed me.



One night, my father discovered

our hideout



and barred the door

to the cellar.



Trapped in the daylight,






without a kingdom,



without the teaming bugs

to calm her down...



my fragile little sister,

Queen Rita,



drifted away.



When he was younger,

Fernand had problems in school.



In grade   he was put

into a class of retards



with schizophrenics,




a set of epileptic twins,

a transvestite and an albino.



Even there, he'd failed his exams

three years in a row.



Mme. Lozeau.



One day, a visiting counsellor

asked him to draw something.



After an hour, Fernand

gave him a blank page,



insisting he'd drawn

a white rabbit in the snow.



In the snow.



On both sides.



But it's here!

Can't you see? Right here!



But, Mr. Principal...



Counsellor, madam.

Not Principal.



Mr. Counsellor.



Then counsel me



about a   -year-old



who won't go to school.



I'm sorry, madam,

it can't go on like this.






Come, let's go home.



Three days later, he started

working at Dominion Glass.






You went to school but



you shit and stink like me.



I could've gone

till I was   .



If the old man hadn't

fucked me    bucks for rent.



Who'd they think they were?



Shoving me in a class

for dildoes.



Didn't think I was normal.



Anyone hassles me






I'll hit'em

between the eyes.



Don't get smart, punk.



We come from

the same shit hole.



And I got here before you.



Don't play with the food.



It'll soon be spring.



The birds are endlessly bitching

about winter.



Fernand pipes in

with a snot-filled snore.



My stomach turns

every time he breathes.



He lies in the fetal position,



his little nightshirt

barely guarding his decency.



He rests, oblivious as usual.



Two hundred pounds of muscle,



a beautiful little baby

got too big.



The room is split in half.



My side, and Fernand's.



His side swells

as his biceps bloom.



There's his radio

and my record-player.



Fernand's radio has priority

since he pays rent.



And his muscles mute my music

when he gets angry.



Bianca my love.



My beautiful love.



My only love.



My Italy.



No... Not that.

Not like that.



I don't like that.



You know what I want.



One last time.











Bianca... For me.






Leolo!... Come...



One night, I finally understood

where that light came from.



It was Bianca who,

for a long time now,



had been singing to me

from the back of the closet.



All I had to do was

take the time to write.



Bianca my love.



My beautiful love.



My only love.



My Italy.



John has one nose.



John has two ears.



John has two legs.



John has ten fingers.



John has two arms.



John has two legs.



John has ten fingers.



John and Mary were our guides

through English.



They were models of propriety.



John has one mouth.



At school, I thought I was

the only one upset...



They only one anxious because

some details were missing



on John's and Tintin's bodies.



At    I knew what nose meant



in English.



And that the Congo was a former

Belgian colony in Africa.



But nobody talked about that tail

that swelled between my legs.



It was absent on the chart

of John's organs.



I didn't know the English

or the French word for this thing.



And for a long time, I believed

the Anglos didn't have any.





















I'm coming!



Open the door or...



I'm coming!












I'm coming!






Just a minute!



I'll bust the fucking lock!



Open the fucking door!



Open up!




What's going on?




I was taking my bath.



The water was hot,

I fried myself.



Smells funny in there.












shit, or make it shoot!



I stopped seeing pink.



Dirty pink, dead pink.



I don't feel my flesh.



I'm not there.



Submerged more and more

in pleasure,



I forgot about Tintin,



I forgot about the Belgian Congo



becoming Zaire in     .



I was obsessed.



Fernand couldn't wear himself out

doing his pushups.



So he paid me

to sit on his shoulders.



That's how I began

to enjoy reading.



You don't want it?



No. I don't like

dead animals.



Look at your brother,

he likes it.



And it's got iron in it.



He's strong.



What's this?



I don't know.



Maybe the pig had gallstones.



As far back as I remember

having a hard-on,



Bianca was there.



It was the name of a beautiful

Sicilian neighbor



who'd never seen Italy

and occasionally baby-sat me.



My grandfather helped her

make ends meet.



Not with scissors.



Do it with love.



I told you no.

I don't want to.









everything you want.



It's all yours.



But do it one more time.









Just once.



Do it one more time.



Do it to me.



When I was small, I liked

to hide under the water.



The bottom of our pool

was sky blue.



There was a pirate's treasure

in a gutted wreck.



I started stealing to buy

my first diving mask.



Your titties.



Show me your titties.



I never knew whether to puke



or jerk off.



Hate the girl,



or envy my grandfather so much

I'd want to kill him.



Do it one more time.









They're old, and yellow



and dry.



Even washed, they stink.



Do it.



Bastard! Pig!



My mother offered us

a beautiful rose made of plastic.



Supposedly to brighten up the room

because a flower is an image,



or rather, an idea of nature.



The scarlet red is muted

by the dust



that buries it more and more

every day.



If only someone in the family

would realize



How unnatural this flower is



with its little golden

"made in Hong Kong" tag



glued under a petal.



Yet, all it takes is an

effortless gesture from me



to take off the tag



and begin to believe

in the illusion.



But I refuse to touch it.



I don't want to rest in the

cemetery of the living dead.



And now, my toes remind me

I'm still here...



sticking out a hole

in the blanket.



Day after day,

without realizing



I've slipped one toe more

than the day before.



Tomorrow, it'll be

my whole foot,



then, my leg,



and soon, my entire body.



I feel I must leave this life



before the rip becomes a noose.



Hey, don't run in the hall.




Are you Mr. Deguire,

Leolo's teacher?



Leon who?



Leo. Leo Lozeau.



Oh yes. Are you his father?



No. Just a friend.



Have you read

Leolo's writings?



You should have a look.



I've got    pupils.



If I gave each

an hour more a week,



I'd never leave this place.



And he's like all of them

heading for tech school.



The brains'll write parking

tickets, if they're lucky.



Poetry won't fix a piston.



But you're his teacher.



You could tell him

what to read.



I'm the third teacher this

year to take Lozeau's class.



The first two were beaten up.



My specialty isn't French,

it's fucking judo.



And I plan to get

thru the year.



Leo, come to dinner.






"Leolo Lozone!"



I loved Fernand

for his sweet ignorance.



Because I dream, I am not.



We'll make money, Leo.



We'll catch tons of fish.



And big fat eels. Hiya!



Look at those idiots!



The nerve of those guys.



Hey! Scram!

This is our spot.



It's too tight, dammit!



I don't wanna

ride a bus again



to pick you up

in hell and gone.



I haven't even

finished my sandwich!



You're never gonna buy

a bike sitting on your ass



eating and watching

boats go by.



Gimme a hand?



Listen, if your prices

were better, I'd take'em all.



You always break

my ass over    cents!



As if should give it away!



It's   bucks for the pail.



It's all rusty, Fernand.

Fucking expensive.



Have you ever worked

in your entire life?



Got one.



Rewind and pull.



Shit, I lost it.



I told you to rewind.

-You said "pull".



I said "rewind and pull".

-You said "pull" first.



It's great

you don't feel the cold.



You'll soon be able

to buy your bike.



Gimme a good deal, Fernand,

  bucks is too much.



He could catch pneumonia

diving in this fucking shit



and it's "too much"?




And I'll throw in   eels.






Okay, I'll take it.



Okay, let's see your cash.



Aw... Now get the hell

out of my sight, okay?



Go! Go on.



Well, if it ain't

the frog brothers themselves.



Hey, Fernand!



Ben Weider's

been good to you, eh?



It still pays to put

little Leo to work.



You won't scare us today.



Want him to smash your face



and have you eat the street?



Hold this, Leo.



ls this for real?



Took your nose vitamins?



Oh, that's beautiful,




Can I touch?



Wanna see something

really great?



Check this out!

Now that's gorgeous!



Come on, Fernand,

come and fight me.



Come on, Fernand, fight me.



What are you, chicken shit,




Come on.



Let's go, Leo.






Come on, Fernand!



Fight me, you fuck!



Drop your bike.






Stand up, fight me!



Fight me !



That day,



I understood fear lived

in our deepest being...



and that a mountain of muscles

or a thousand soldiers



could not change a thing.



Tried and found guiIty for all

the problems in my family,



in a moment of utter despair,



I had decided to kill

my grandfather



whom I liked.



Leo, come to supper!















Do you know what

"attempted murder" means?



You were never violent.



You'll destroy yourself



if you keep thinking

your grandfather



is totally to blame

for the family.



Your mother is strong.



Very strong.



She's a force of nature.



She never caved in.



In spite of everything

she went through.



You're a lot like her, Leo.



I know your fear.



But there's nothing I can do



if you refuse to talk to me.



To do my homework,



I use half of a small desk



unless Fernand needs it

to count and recount



the fortitude box he makes

at Dominion Glass.












Two bucks.



Had some fries.






Ten cents.






All I had to do

was read or write,



and she'd come back

and sing for me.



The tamer was right.



There was a secret

in words strung together.



Bianca my love



my only love



my sweet love.



Bianca my love



my sweet love



my only love.



A peddler shouts in the void.



There's enough blood this morning

to stain a hundred pages.



And enough people to buy them,



to appease their rage.



I pull out my rifle

and shoot at cars.



I look down



the barrel and aim

at my father.



I want to stick a firecracker

as big as the universe



up his ass.



Just because I'm waiting

for the bus,



and I'll be waiting next week.



I'll still be waiting.



Every Sunday, we take the bus



to picnic on lle Ste-Hélène.



As my father doesn't have a car,



it's our bit of the country

in the city.



At the docks, we get bored

watching ships sail away.



Ships we will never sail on.



And we eat cucumbers

on the grass.



Maybe I should stick the barrel

up my nose



and blow my thoughts

all over the place.



The bastards...



It sure would shock them to see me

blow myself up before I retire.



Although instinct would

have led me directly,



I still asked

for her room number.



I felt strange

after I said her name



because it was also mine.



Trois fois passera



la dernière la dernière



Trois fois passera



la dernière y restera.






Here, I brought my flies.



You can keep them.






That was the only time

I dared caress my sister.



And all I could think of



was a wonderful seen in a movie.



And as always,



I was a spectator

of my own life.



Leo Lozeau,

I don't want to see you



bring live animals

in the hospital.



Don't keep that

in your room, it stinks!



Coward! Coward!



I wouldn't dare?!



Put   bucks on the table



and I'll do it. You guys

don't have the balls.



  bucks on the table

and I'll do it.



None of you's man enough.



Not you, not you.

None of you.



Put   bucks on the table

and I'll do it.



Tonight, Buddy Godin

will be late for home.



His mom will check his fingers.



She's worried her son

might be smoking on the sly.



No, Mme. Godin.



Your son fucks

anything that moves,



his dick is eaten by bugs,



he swallows any pill he can



just to forget you.



That bath you force him to take



before church on Sunday,

just serves him



to prostitute himself

with his hockey coach.



White meat sells better.



But no, don't worry,

he doesn't smoke.



It makes him choke.



Sex I discovered between

ignorance and horror.



Deep down,



we all knew money

was just a pretext...



and that he'd do it anyway.



For betting just defanged

the fear.



The poor cat didn't defend herself.



She'd been declawed.



Mme. Ouimet took good care

of her curtains.



How lucky you are, Milou,



Tintin didn't have Buddy Godin

for a neighbor.



I didn't have the courage

of my love for Bianca.



So I settled for getting it off

with Regina.



I'm coming...

You smell good... Keep on.



Faster, faster.



Sometimes I spent entire nights



reading and writing

dozens of pages



without seeing her.



Bianca had become

very demanding.



She knew I'd cheated on her

with Regina...



and she decided to punish me.















Leo is sick!






Don't do this to me!



Not you!



You're too strong!



Get up!



Don't go!






Don't do this to me.






Because I dream, I am not.



Because I dream...



I dream.



Because at night, I abandon

myself to my dreams...



before I'm left the day.



Because I don't love...



because I was afraid to love...



I no longer dream.



I no longer dream.



"Because I dream, I'm not.



Because I dream. I dream...



Because at night I abandon

myself to my dreams,



before I'm left the day...



Because I don't love...



Because I was

afraid to love...



I no longer dream.



I no longer dream."



Reduce the Largactil

to     mg. intramuscular.



I no longer dream.



I no longer dream.



Tomorrow put him



in the ward with the rest



of his family.



"You my lady



Bold melancholy



Solitary cry

piercing my flesh,



Offering it to ennui,



Haunting my nights

when I don't know



Which way my life should go,



I have paid you back

a hundredfold."



You my lady



Bold melancholy



Solitary cry

piercing my flesh,



Offering it to ennui,



Haunting my nights



When I don't know

which way my life should go,



I have paid you back

a hundredfold.



The ambers of the dream



Left behind the ashes

of a shadow of a lie



you told me to hear.



The white serenity



Minute of eternity



was a dark-haired wicked waif



who pierced my sorrow

with a sharp



and sacred breast



leaving only the remorse

of seeing the sun



rise on my solitude.



"And I shall rest my head

between two words,



in the Valley

of the Vanquished."





Special help by SergeiK