Louis Garrel, will you be my 'amant regulier' ?

Today the Lincoln Center launched '1968: An International Perspective' - a two-week season of films either made in or looking back on the unique year that was 1968.

To kick off the proceedings, what better than to begin with Philippe Garrel's Les Amants Reguliers? Made in 2005, this is an achingly beautiful look back on 1968 Paris as lived by its disaffected youth.

It's a long movie - 172 minutes to be precise - and is filmed in a high contrast black and white. I instantly thought of Pasolini (who is referenced in the dialogue as it happens) or even Dreyer, whose Jeanne d'Arc takes on significance in Godard's Vivre Sa Vie (1962). Like Godard and Pasolini, Garrel is highly selective in his use of music, favouring a sporadic, gypsy piano accompaniment and just a smattering of contemporary songs (The Kinks' This Time Tomorrow a particularly apt choice) played in the diegetic space. This contemplative, expressionistic-yet-realist style is fitting for its themes of philosophising and revolution-making. Just as Pasolini was a committed Communist and believed strongly in art's power to change society, Garrel's protagonists hope to attain something better, something more meaningful, through militant action and through art. Do they achive it, though? The length of the film pushes us to question this. Following the smoke, action and frenetic energy of a long, early sequence portraying a scuffle with the police at the Barricades, the marjority of the film follows the youths haplessly moving from one sedentary meeting to another, smoking opium, making love, and discussing art, marxism and revolution. But with May's events fading into the past, all the youths are left with is a memory, a trace.

The expressive poetry of Baudelaire and Musset is woven into the dialogue, intensifying the feeling of a failed revolution and soul-searching. And who better to play the part of the modern-day poet, than Louis Garrel? Son of the filmmaker, Louis’ Grecian profile and dark curly locks make him the perfect candidate for the literary figure in the group, reciting the French Romantic poets and writing his own musings. His presence in the film may be reason enough to go and see it, but there are far more. Contemplative and nostalgic at once, Garrel’s film leaves us to consider the events of 1968 without dictating our judgment. Just like the older family members portrayed briefly in the film, the director’s voice remains withdrawn, as he stands back and observes the young protagonists with fascination, detachment and a silent understanding.



...Oh, and thought I might just add that I met Louis Garrel back in March, following a screening of Christophe Honoré's Chansons d'Amour at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. To borrow from another Kinks song, you could say I was 'Starstruck'. But who wouldn't be?

A Chance Encounter on the Lower East Side

It was the Simone de Beauvoir that started it.

The other day I was in the Lower East Side and decided to go into Pink Pony on Ludlow Street, to spend a few hours reading and sketching. Entering the worn, ambient, bistro-like interior, I immediately thought of cafés such as La Fourmi and La Perle in Paris.

I chose a seat by the window next to two ladies who were finishing their lunch. Settling down at my table, I unpacked necessary items from my bag: sketchbook, diary, pens, and the book I’m currently reading: Simone de Beauvoir’s La Force des Choses: II. After a few minutes one of the women noticed the book lying next to me, pointed it out to her friend, and began speaking to me in French. I explained that I speak French but am actually English. Chatting to them for a while, I was fascinated to learn that both had been key figures in the vibrant 1970s New York art scene. One speaks with a slight English accent - originally from the UK, she has lived in New York for forty years. In answer to my question of why she moved, she answered ‘1968!’. Well, why else? She handed me her business card; the name read ‘Liza Béar’. It immediately seemed familiar to me, but at first I couldn’t work out why.

Soon it all fitted into place. Liza Béar told me she co-founded the groundbreaking, avant-garde magazine Avalanche with her then-partner, Willoughby Sharp. By giving a voice to artists rather than relying on critics, the magazine helped launch the careers of daring artists such as Joseph Beuys and Vito Acconci. I met Willoughby last summer as he had a piece in SculptureCenter’s Fall exhibition. It was also my job to update and edit his biography – hence why I had come across Liza’s name. The once radical, provocative performance artist is now sadly battling with cancer, but he was still very friendly and I remember he gave me a cheeky wink and a pat on the shoulder when I came to collect a DVD from his Greenpoint home.

The other lady is Coleen Fitzgibbon. She too had played an active part in the underground art scene that exploded in 1970s New York – a time when the Lower East Side and Soho were still havens for struggling artists and penniless musicians. Googling her name the day after, I found out she produced the film From the Journals of Jean Seberg (1995) – as I'm a big fan of Godard’s A Bout de Souffle this was an exciting discovery. Liza Béar has just published a book called Beyond the Frame: Dialogues with World Filmmakers. I am particularly envious of the fact that she has interviewed Agnès Varda, one of my favourite filmmakers.

Photo: Liza Béar (left) and Coleen Fitzgibbon