I went to see a french film today. My choice. All by myself, no coercion necessary. Chansons d’amour is a film set in Paris, in fact not far from here, near the (infamous) Passage Brady (see my post below). While we were in Colmars one afternoon I was alone in the hotel, mum, Pete & Michelle had gone off to watch a classical music concert and I was afraid I would fall asleep in the middle of it so I stayed behind for a nap and switched on Canal Plus which was hosting a red carpet kind of thing at the Cannes Film Festival. The cast of Chansons d’amour were up being interviewed and it was there and then I decided I would like to go see the film when it was released.

I loved the film. I didn’t understand every word, but then I don’t think I needed to, I understood the sentiments, I could read the expressions and I got most of the parole and the singing was so understated it worked brilliantly.

Every time I venture out of my comfort zone and watch a french film in it’s original version I always feel rewarded. The French have a style so dissimilar to the American and even Australian films, the actresses and actors are all beautiful, not in the flashy or predictable Hollywood style but a natural, light within type of beauty that shows them warts and all. You see real people, they play real characters, real scenarios, I thoroughly enjoyed it. It made me walk tall as I left the American style theatre complex into the sunshine and grittiness of our Les Halles neighbourhood.

It’s in moments like these that I love Paris.