I knew it all along,...

last night I watched La Vie En Rose and realized something that I suppose I've known all along. La Vie En Rose is a French film which chronicles the life and times and ups & downs (and just about every drop consumed) of iconic singer Edith Piaf. As far as the film itself, well as of yet, I've not totally immersed myself into the lives of popular French singers from 50 years ago, but the direction, production, art direction, and acting were brilliant. A seemingly beautiful film to look at. Marion Cotillard's performance as the singer came off as abrasive, loud and obnoxious, but that's what made it brilliant. Her best actress Oscar was unequivocally deserved. As far as this great self realization, well there was none. But I realized how emphatically affecting (and this is in any film, mind you) a scene that shows the thoughts, reactions and emotions of a crowd (from their perspective) can be (and I've figured out why). Let me break that down. Often times a director will use film within a film. How many times have we seen characters in a movie watching a movie? Trust me, it's always in there for a reason, it's full circle. But when a director turns the camera around and shows us those blank faces staring upward, lights reflecting off their absorbed disguises (is there a heavenly connotation present?), we relate. Why? Because we love film, we love the way it makes us feel, the escapism. When we see members of an audience lost in a film, we can relate to that feeling. Haven't we all been there before? There is an absolutely beautiful scene in Rose where a simple classical music piece plays over a performance by Piaf. Other than the soft music playing, the scene is totally silent. The scene juxtaposes the on stage command of Piaf with the reactions and emotions of the audience. Beautiful and moving. There have been a few other movies with similar audience interaction in them that come to mind. Francois Truffaut's 400 Blows, and Giuseppe Tornatore's Cinema Paradiso as well. I'm sure there are countless others that escape me at this time, maybe Jules and Jim. One characteristic of a truely great filmmaker is they will simply allow the audience to relate to those on the screen. Once the emotion has been evoked, the audience is more willing to trust the director later on when he introduces a gay race of space aliens from the planet zorton. Cheers!

mind ye (P)ints & (Q)uarts.

listening to right now: Where Do You Go To (My Lovely) by Peter Sarstedt