Often, I think this may be my favourite film of all time. It’s between this and ‘Paris,Texas’ because of the way the mood resonates. ‘Wings Of Desire’ is another example.
Leos Carax has the reputation for being an opaque, somewhat self-indulgent director. ‘Holy Motors’, for example, is batshit crazy and experimental to almost the point of lunacy. But ‘The Lovers At The 9th Bridge’ has a simple, life affirming narrative, and two wonderful co-stars, in the shape of Juliette Binoche and Denis Lavant.
Michele (Binoche) has a degenerative eye condition, but refuses treatment from her family, all of whom she considers bourgeoisie. She instead runs away from home and sleeps rough, finding love in the unlikely form of Alex (Lavant) a street performer. The two become inseperable and become somewhat enmeshed, creating their own, hermetically sealed, little universe. There’s realism beside the magic, but it’s by no means magical realism.
Both are incredible, bringing nuance and deep intensity to the couple. Carax’s heartfelt direction and the lush, intimate cinematography swerves the clichés of the usual mismatched lovers, a) because they’re not, they’re more suited than first impressions give and b) because this is a French film, and they’re usually more subtle and passionate when tackling matters of the heart.
The scenes around Bastille Day are utterly joyous, with fireworks, dancing and a France that’s not often shown from the perspective of homeless people. It’s a beautiful film and it stays with you for years. I felt bereft when it ended, like a book you long to re-read.
Hit The North 