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Soft, tentative piano tones, the twittering of birds, a child's voice in the distance, almost inaudibly calling 'mama'. This introduction sets us on the almost overgrown path to the past, so it is no surprise that a fragment from Marcel Proust's 'A l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs' served as inspiration for Alain Bourges. The past is a shadow play performed behind weather beaten matt glass, a disintegrating nitrate film convulsively preserving a performance between rust spots and cables, a glimpse in the reflecting well on which floats iridescent oil, a double printed etching like those made by Hercules Seghers in the seventeenth century. A woman and a man in nineteenth century summer clothes loom up. She has opened a small white parasol. She takes something from her handbag and suddenly they run after each other, in love or agitation? They seem to dance, there are close ups of an arm around a wasp-like waist, a voluptuous hip movement, a warding off gesture. Melting violins sound, the jingle of cymbalums. Then a man begins the account of this meeting. The woman stands panting by the window and says - like an actress who has to play the role of Gilberte - with repetitive emphasis, ''You know ... if you read it ...'' A letter as madeleine, as a reference to a forgotten drama, as preserver of a fatal misunderstanding.
–
Erik Daams
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Camera: Sorin Chivulesco, Camera assistant: Ilie Rusen, Sound: Doru Popescu, Music: Gheorgh Patrascu, With: Lucile Luyer, Luana Vedeanu, Andrei Duban, Mircea Albules, Production assistant: Emil Slotea, Production: Mihai Fatu, La Lanterne Magique, CRAAV Lille, CREA Rennes 2
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