À la claire fontaine

So our drinking water was cut off yesterday night. P was really not happy about that. He loves his water and refused to be appeased by either soy milk or fruit juice or milkshake. Me, I was ok. I don’t like to drink plain water anyway. However, when I woke up this morning without my daily honey sustenance, I realized the importance of the drinking water and repeatedly called the office to send the maintenance guys over. The guy came and it turned out that the water pipe line froze and water couldn’t get past the ice. Huh. It didn’t make much sense to me, but apparently leaving the freezer door open for one hour solves it. Leaving the freezer door open for an hour also softens the ice-cream, making it easy to scoop a huge spoonful out to make milkshake smoothies that isn’t half-froth. Yum! Good things come out of bad things.

I also took the opportunity to ask the maintenance guy why our fridge doesn’t give us ice cubes/crushed ice. Apparently, it’s because we never turned the ice-maker on. Okaaay. Four degrees between the both of us, and we did not know that we have to turn the ice-maker on to make ice. Nice. And now I hear ice crashing into the icebox every twenty minutes.

I’ve been watching Il y a longtemps que je t'aime off an on for the day (amidst solving our drinking water problem etc.) I’ve had the film in my hard drive for forever, but I’ve somehow never got to it. It’s a slow-moving film that reminds me of A One and a Two, but with a sideline suspense plot.

It’s a story of how a mis-matched family comes together. A mute grandfather, estranged sisters, adopted Vietnamese daughters, Iraqi friends - a melting pot of characters quietly going about their lives. The addition of Juliette was a stone thrown in the waters, the original life was disturbed and ripples were formed, but the waters still returned to its former calmness. It speaks of how we can come to adapt and accept anything, of how truly flexible the human being is. A particular scene that stood out in its abruptness – the death of Juliette’s probation officer Capt. Fauré, which was quickly followed by news of a friend giving birth. Life follows death. Such are the eternal rules and cycle of life.

Kristin Scott Thomas was exceptional in the film. Her silence heavy and her face so movingly expressionless. She doesn’t say or do anything, but one can feel her pain almost tangibly. So strong is her desire to stay invisible that she almost melts into the background at some points. In the scenes when she’s walking in crowds of people, it is even hard to pick her out. She holds herself so tightly that when she flinches, there seems to be physical pain. There are multitudes of close-ups on her face – covered with fine lines and deep furrows, each line a testament to the pain she went through. Yet such haggardness fails to hide the delicate bone structure and skin – one can even see the faint outline of blue veins. The occasional times when she relaxes into a smile, it’s as if a light is thrown upon her and she suddenly becomes beautiful. Her etched face forms such juxtaposition with that of Léa – Juliette’s pale blue eyes and Léa’s earnest big brown eyes, Juliette’s drawn face with Léa’s round face. The difference between the sisters is so clear.

I don’t understand the language, so instead of listening to the words, I listen to how the words run together, the tempo and the tonality and emotion infused within. It’s a refreshing experience.

The ending was almost anti-climatic. We finally “discover” the secret, but at this point, we really don’t care. In fact, the rage, the shouting, the breaking down at the end felt melodramatic, and was a let down to an otherwise well-balanced film. I would have preferred it end on a quieter note – it felt more that Juliette has accepted the past, and didn’t need the “cathartic” moment.

On another note, I loved the French children’s song, “À la claire fontaine” that inspired the name of the film. The lyrics are so sweet.

À la claire fontaine,
M'en allant promener
J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle
Que je m'y suis baigné

Il y a longtemps que je t'aime
Jamais je ne t'oublierai