Summary
Although barely 30, Claire believes she is showing the first symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease,
a condition from which her mother has recently died. Her sister, Nathalie, is certain
that her memory loss, caused by a lightning strike, is temporary. In the clinic
where she is being treated, Claire is attracted to Bernard, a man who is still traumatised
after a car accident in which his wife and child were both killed. In spite of their
personal tragedies, Claire and Bernard fall in love. When Bernard recovers, Claire
moves into his home. Then Claire’s condition takes a turn for the worse...
Review
How can any director make a film about Alzheimer’s disease without falling prey to tired
clichés or heavy sentimentality? What hope is there in this subject to attract
- let alone cheer - a cinema audience, a fair proportion of whom are likely to end up
victims of this terrible illness? For her directorial debut, Zabou Breitman could
not have chosen a more challenging theme, and the fact that her film is such a magnificent
creation is nothing short of a small miracle.
Se souvenir des belles choses is one of the most beautiful, enchanting and satisfying
films to come out of France in recent years. It combines the seductive fantasy wonder
of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Le fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulin with an almost
documentary-style realism, the result being a fairytale-like odyssey, skilfully portraying
the highs and lows of human experience. This is a film which offers a truly memorable
cinematic experience, partly because of its subject, but mainly because of the way in
which that subject is portrayed.
The grim storyline should make watching this film a relentlessly depressing experience.
We see an attractive young woman (the wonderful Isabelle Carré, at her abolute
best) gradually succumbing to the effects of a memory-destroying condition. First
there is the horrible realisation and fear over what her destiny will be when she becomes
aware of her illness. Then there is the panic as her condition progressively deteriorates,
erasing her life like someone wiping a whiteboard. And then the unspeakable horror
of the end result… This should be a gruelling film, almost too painful to
watch. Yet it isn’t any of this. What we see is upsetting, hugely poignant,
but this is not a depressing film. With an extraordinary sense of humanism and optimism,
the film shows us that even in the midst of personal tragedy, life is still worth living,
providing we accept reality and make the best of what we have.
As a director and writer, Zabou Breitman shows not just talent and maturity, but also
great originality. Yet to make light of a subject so traumatic as Alzheimer’s disease
demands more than this - it also requires guts. By courageously defying stereotypical
characters and situations, by daring to combine comedy and tragedy, she proves her credentials
as an auteur of the highest calibre. The poetry in her script and her direction
are heightened by Dominique Chapuis’ mood-evoking and often hugely innovative photography.
In the role of the ill-fated Claire, Isabelle Carré at last has the opportunity
to show that she is one of France’s most talented actors. In a restrained, sensitive
performance, Carré gives the film its emotional depth and is harrowingly easy to
identify with. The same can equally be said of her co-star, the less well-known
Bernard Campan. His portrayal of a man whose life appears to be coming back together
just as his lover’s starts to fall apart is intensely moving, bringing home the tragic
reality of the situation in the film’s haunting, darker moments.
One reason for the film’s impact is that it shows the experiences of the film’s protagonists
from their respective points of view. Seen from a purely objective standpoint, all
we would see is tragedy, the pitiful and cruel destruction of a beautiful life.
What the film shows us however is something very different - the nobility and wonder of
human experience and the power of love to overcome any physical or emotional crisis.
For a world that is tainted by irrational fear and unthinking cynicism, Se souvenir
des belles choses offers a much-needed antidote with a simple message of hope.
© James Travers 2004
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