Saturday, November 10, 2012

je t'aime... moi non plus


I’m taking a French class this semester. I’m not sure that I thought it out completely because I’m also taking an anatomy class, but I quelled my fears and convinced myself that both courses simply involved memorization.  “Easy enough” was probably said out loud and in a public place, which caused me to blush because other people had noticed that I was talking to myself.  Anyway, it turns out that it’s quite hard to juggle two completely different subjects, but I’ve managed to find enjoyment out of both, and today I felt inspired to review a French subtitled movie that I’ve been wanting to see for a while, plus I could justify being lazy because it was in French. I do this pretty frequently because I have yet to see a French movie that I didn’t like (although I’m sure they’re out there…somewhere) and I shutter to use the word “Francophile” because the pretentious smog it leaves makes me gag. Still with me? Okay, here we go:

Gainsbourg: A Heroic Life

The movie begins with young Lucien Ginsburg (or Serge as we know him to be) whose family had immigrated to France from Russia in the 1940s. His audacious nature breaks through his miniature frame as he “seduces” women and improves his skills as a painter and musician; all the while a cigarette protrudes from his pre pubescent lips. The movie expresses, by way of poetic license, his fears of a German occupied France as a young boy, which in my humble opinion was done well. One of my favorite moments from the beginning is when Lucien arrives early to collect his yellow star of David and tell the officer that he wanted to make sure he got one before they ran out (I’m paraphrasing, you should really see it for yourself). The rest of the film illustrations his turn from painter to musician, and the struggle he faces throughout his career with regard to his born faith, problems with drinking and smoking, relationships and his appearance. One thing that gets under my skin is the comment that he’s not good looking, to which I vehemently disagree. Conventional beauty is fine and good, but Serge wasn’t and it’s refreshing to see someone who looks unique and is basically a musical genius, not that I'm the great bastion of musical geniuses, and I think many would agree with that observation. He was good enough for Brigitte Bardot and Jane Birkin…





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