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Rating: In the midst of her troubled adolescence, enlightened by a novel of the era, Miss Patti learned that it's quite simple, by observing a girl walk, to understand if said girl is involved with men or not.
Miss Patti was then a tomboyish young girl to whom scarlet fever had gifted a poetic fever, thus she was the typical subject who not only had no relationships with boys, but risked never having any.
Devoted to her very personal idea of what was cool and what was not, and not wanting to look like a loser, Miss Patti decided to mimic the way of walking of a woman who, it was evident, had had many relationships with men or could have had them.
And that woman was Jeanne Moreau.
Francois Truffaut once said that Jeanne Moreau had a sort of natural authority and, to illustrate this concept, he quoted a phrase she said in the middle of "The Bride Wore Black" to one of the unfortunate men who, in that film, had to deal with her.
The unfortunate man, seeing her pensive, said something like "a penny for your thoughts" and she replied: "my thoughts are none of your business."
There you go, Truffaut said, that's the kind of line that could come out of Jeanne Moreau's mouth,
The little song we are talking about today is the favorite of Lulu's girlfriend, that girl one-third pedagogue, one-third cloud, one-third I don't remember what... and let's say that's already enough for the review since she is the kind of girl who, if you walk with her and suddenly turn around and look at her, you say... you say...
Actually, you have no idea what to say, so you just smile.
And anyway, you can hear this little song in the middle of "Jules and Jim," an ethereal, light film that tells how from an incredible distance a sort of modern myth, but does so with the incredibly fresh language of young French cinema of the time.
The film is an ode to life, and that remoteness, that distance that characterize it make friendship, love, death, drama, pain pass on screen... only they pass, so to speak, almost without leaving a trace.
There is, in fact, a sort of magic that resets everything. And, despite the death and despite the sorrow, it's that magic that ultimately remains. And it remains like a zero point one of poetry, except it's the kind of poetry that you'd say was caught almost by chance, even if there's no chance at all.
Our little song is a perfect example of that zero point one: a guitar, a voice somewhat like Marlene's, a tone both childish and austere at the same time.
The whirl of life it is called, that same whirl that the film portrays.
Talking with the soundtrack's author, who wanted to write an "important" piece of music, Truffaut said instead that the music should have "an air of nothing."
"But how 'an air of nothing' 'Jules and Jim' (and he meant the novel from which the film is adapted) is a masterpiece!!!"
"Exactly, but we need to film the beauty without taking ourselves too seriously and having the air of nothing," Truffaut replied.
As for Jeanne Moreau, it's hard for her not to take herself seriously, she is the importance. However, she tries, and sings like a little girl, and her face, usually so stern, is all little poses and grimaces.
Yes, she sings, in a childish manner, a text that almost seems like a nursery rhyme or a tongue twister and sings it quickly too... ah it is a true enchantment and something I can't put into words.
But back to Lulu's girlfriend, who sometimes sings this little song even though it was so hard for her to learn it. After all, try singing a French tongue twister at a breakneck speed.
Ah, I assure you, it's really beautiful to listen to her, as she also manages to give that incredible impression you get when by saying little you say a lot, and by saying a lot, you don't say it all.
And it's wonderful not to say it all since preserving the mystery is the only way to return to life that question mark it inherently is. I even finished with a grand statement, what more do you want.
Au revoir...
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