Saturday, April 20, 2013

Au Theatre du Marais

Tout ce que tu possedes   (All that you possess)
                                                    de Bernard Emond

- Pierre Leduc,  giving classes in literature of  Eastern countries and being  in the process of translating poems by Edward Stachura  who took his life at the age of 42, chucked his job and his books. He refuses a 50 million heritage from his father on the grounds that the wealth was acquired fraudulently.
Meeting his 13 year old daughter for the first time changes his life.

The director/screenwriter  Bernard Emond was present.  One could have heard a fly walk during the movie.  At the close the applause was enthusiastic and long lasting.

Whomever had the courage, discussed the movie with Emond. I was sitting in the last row and could not hear in detail what people were saying but hearing Emond's answers I pieced things together. - Mr. Emond had just returned from Poland where his film was very well received - Stachura is a well known poet there -  The main character had been on his mind for a long time before he connected him with the poetry of Stachura and made this film - the little girl is a born actor , he hardly had to guide her - and on and on 

Some people left, some stayed, some more left and a few stayed. I was still sitting there in my bubble , so very moved by that film not even able to talk with my two friends besides me. When I got up I saw Mr. Emond sitting on the edge of the  stage, his legs dangling down on the side, talking to two young women. I approached them and when he acknowledged my presence I just said "I don't want to leave yet" and after I had said that, my bubble burst and I spilled out  how embarrassed I felt to make my comment, that I feel as if his film had undressed me, that I feel like a naked person with intense emotions such as hate, love, fear, sadness, disgust, exhaustion written all over my body, that this is the first time I react in such a way to a movie. Me, who never says much because I lack vocabulary, had the guts to say all that to him. What guts? It just all came out.
I don't know how to describe the expressions in his face while I was talking. I could tell that my words had an impact on him and was not surprised when he told me how moved he was by what he heard. He thanked me profoundly.



Halle said...

An artist often works in such a bubble, with only their art as a relief valve. To know your soul has meant something important to one other person is a joy.

Thank you Ellena.

Roderick Robinson said...

As an ex-journalist I am used to asking questions in public - often intrusive, aggressive questions which can make other non-journalistic people wince with embarrassment at what I say. But 'twas my job and those I was questioning often had something to sell or to explain that was in their interest.

But I have to modify my style when I'm talking to someone who has just addressed an audience about a book or a movie and who is intent on opening up a dialogue. This happens typically at the Hay Literary Festival held at nearby Hay-on-Wye, coming up next month, and which I've attended for several years now.

The difference being that if I'm there in the audience it's because I want to be, because I'm interested in what the speaker has to say. So my questions are softer than usual. Which also means that they are not as well formed; I may even (Horror of horrors!) ramble, as I did last year.

I think the circumstances you describe, which led to your opening up to Emond, were probably ideal. That even though you felt you were indulging in ourpourings, you had had the time, subconsciously, to frame what you had to say. And that the words came out well.

I remember being in a restaurant in London and seeing a world-famed author whom I greatly admired and whose books I had read and re-read. I wanted to tell him how much his books had meant to me, but in the end I held back. For two reasons: (a) he, then in his seventies, was sitting at a table with an attractive woman in her twenties, and (b) whatever I had said would be what he had heard many times before and my absence at his table would be better appreciated than my presence. We tend to think of authors as enormous egos but readers too have big egos and must learn to suppress them in others' interests.

Quirky: the voice or behaviour of someone who is identifiably an individual, often unexpected in what is said and done, often amusing, often generating affection.

Rouchswalwe said...

Mr. Edmond must have been thanking his lucky stars that he stayed and engaged you at the stage. How often must it be the case that the film-maker is told merely what the viewer thinks he wants to hear.

I found a trailer of this film with subtitles and can imagine the lead character is a man who attempts to live his life honestly but is faced with situations that call for genuine honesty. I'd love to see it and will search for a copy. Meanwhile, keep being honest, sweet Ellena! What you have to say is worthy and Mr. Edmond is still thinking on what you told him with such honesty, mark my words!

Ellena said...

Sorry ALL, I felt 'unveiled' until now and did not have the courage to come back here.

That makes two joyful souls. Thank YOU

I thought rambling was reserved for me. Enjoy and let us know how you made out, this year, at the Hay Literary Festival.

Mr. E. surprised me at the door on my way out and suggested I see 'La Donation'.
No idea what's up with me. Something similar happened with my honest comment to Beth (Cassandra Pages) in respect of her recent Friday drawing.
I must add though that my 'feeling things' prevents me from crystal clear thinking.