In Praise of Love (Éloge de l'amour)

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Do you remember the names?

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Maybe nothing was said.

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The end of a demonstration.

She's with a male friend.

To make him happy

- she wears a yellow star. - A trinity of stories

The beginning

The end

Then she writes something...

SOMETHING

"You jobless,

"use this time to start thinking"?

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Then these guys arrive,

see the yellow star, try to tear it off,

telling her:

"Wanna see some fascists? Well, here they are.”

Then they beat her unconscious.

Time passes.

Don't move.

What times!

Humans remain.

And if you were to be asked:

film, play, novel or opera?

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Which would you choose?

Novel, I guess.

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We have a project.

It relates something of the story

of three couples:

young, adult,

and old.

And this something

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is one of the four moments of love.

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The meeting,

the physical passion,

the separation...

then the reconciliation.

So what will you play?

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I think I'll play the young girl.

I'm thinking of something.

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His name is Perceval.

And her name will be Eglantine.

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I'm Eglantine.

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Do you understand it's not Eglantine's story,

but a moment in history...

History moving through Eglantine?

The moment of youth.

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Let's call it a sociological study.

For example, when the old man and woman meet,

it'll be in a soup kitchen.

In this project, in fact,

we can't help but depict...

depict the down-and-out.

They're everywhere nowadays.

The ones Victor Hugo...

You know Victor Hugo?

Take a seat.

You can smoke if you want.

What are you thinking about?

I was wondering if my cigarette would hold out till tonight.

And if my laces would hold out till tomorrow.

And if my breath

would hold out till next week.

Do you work?

Yes, a lot.

At night, too?

Especially at night.

And in the night of day.

Do you ever cry?

At first glance, you can see why children cry.

While people are walking by.

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That's how Albert and Albertine loved each other.

I don't know.

It all depends on how I still see myself.

Someone who plans to keep moving ahead

implies that his previous self

is a self that no longer exists,

and he loses interest in it.

On the other hand, the plans of others

reject time...

and thereby create a strong bond with the past.

It's true of almost all old people.

They can't abide time

for fear of wasting away.

Everyone,

in his heart of hearts...

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There are the poor.

I don't know how memory

can help us

reclaim our lives.

It's not whether man will endure,

but whether he has the right to.

Here comes the little fellow.

In ancient times they emphasized relationships.

That's the fundamental question.

Who's this one by?

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When will we have an answer?

We still need a green light from the national bank.

You seem very fond of that young man. Too fond, in my opinion.

That's your opinion, dear fellow.

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A thief is a thief, museum or not.

They apologized.

- Then neither did I. - You're different.

What if they only return the Braque and Vlamincks.

We know how they are.

The Louvre curator wants to protect the Winged Victory,

but as author of this protection on equal terms with Phidias.

Times have changed.

There's a feeling of yesteryear. It's discouraging.

Too many changes are in the air

that still lack a means of expression.

We make fun of 1900 but our age

will probably seem just as ridiculous.

And maybe just as charming.

I don't know. Memory is a complex thing.

When they were arrested in the '42 roundup,

Edgar's grandfather was the same age as Dad.

They were partners in the gallery.

I was 10. I'd play in the park with his daughter.

I was madly in love.

She preferred someone else.

So I said to her,

quoting Jouvet:

"Happy with that hapless man?"

What became of him?

With her 50%,

Héléne bought him a Gordini, then a Talbot.

He killed himself at Indianapolis. The same year as Ascari.

Then your debt is paid.

But there's still memory.

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Yes, the obligations of memory.

No, the right.

Memory has no obligations. Read Bergson.

Or else I must

still be in love.

She looked like that girl in the Boubat photo,

staring into the distance,

wearing a black bra under her white blouse.

- You've kept in touch with her? - No, she committed suicide.

Luckily she had no signature power.

I found 2 Corots at Vollard's,

a Lichtenstein at Castelli's in NY, but too late.

I managed to buy back the little Breughel,

but I think it's a copy.

All that remains of this business

is that the boy make something more than money.

I got to know him

by chance at the Soulages' home.

Antoinette Sach's daughter introduced us.

I think she's Edgar's godmother.

Maybe he's aware of the situation, but he said nothing.

It's still a lot. Even if it's a fine project.

I have no idea what it's about.

An opera, maybe. A film.

A film in the documentary tradition.

But I don't understand the term.

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And what's it called?

Something to Love.

Ode, I think.

Isn't it strange

how works of art demand titles,

- like in the days of nobility. - And Wall st.

Speaking of films, did you know Henri Langlois?

Not really.

Meerson's wife, yes.

But not him. Maybe once, at a lunch at the Raphael,

in '58 or '569.

It seems he founded the Archive Federation here

with a German and a New Yorker. I forgot her name.

In 1938. Iris Barry.

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See Counselor Forlani out.

The Americans are everywhere, aren't they, sir?

Who remembers Vietnam's resistance?