I ventured to the cinema (I seem to be seeing an unusually high number of films on TV and DVD lately, and not enough at the cinema) to see La Vie En Rose, and shed a tear by the end of the two hour and forty odd minute journey we (Edith and me) had gone on together. The film is a very emotional, and very satisfying telling of the story of The Sparrow’s devastatingly sad, although equally thrilling life (how many of us will be adored by a nation, and have such a thrillingly satisfying career that genuinely moved people). But it was not the gritty youthful tribulations or sad deaths that brought the tear to my eye, not even the physically upsetting state of Piaf by the end of her life, but the brilliant ‘Non, je ne regrette rien’, as sung by the great lady (the film’s songs are dubbed with the original recordings) at the very end of the film. Obviously I had the emotional capital of the whole film resting on my shoulders by this point, but whenever I hear that hauntingly good refrain, even for a second, my hair starts to stand on end. It’s a good song, made great by Piaf and that special voice. What a woman she was, and in this film so superbly played by Marion Cotillard, who manages to look young, old, beautiful and haggared in an astonishingly real way during the couse of the film (the sense of reality nearly matching that of Bruno Ganz in Downfall, one of the best performances imaginable as a real character). I also love the title, who could resist a ‘Life in Pink’?
But back to my crying. I’m getting very worried that I’m becoming soft and emotionalistic in my advancing years (all of 25 now). But if I continue to cry at billiant films and plays, I should think myself lucky that I’m seeing them at all. Carry on weeping.