Black, white, colored. A few years ago, I didn’t watch this movie — it was late and I was about 20. At the time, I was interested in Takeshi Kitano’s samurai and yakuza, and I wasn’t married.
French films should be watched with a certain amount of life and soul experience in mind.
If you come across a review with the definition of “Lelushism”, I would like to talk in more detail about some details.
Black and former scenes alternate with color scenes not because of an attempt to find out which color is better; the black and white world happens when a person does not try to color the surrounding reality with his emotions. The cold detached reality of superficial acquaintance is diluted by vivid vivid vivid memories, mainly of Anna.
The suicide of the driver’s wife is filmed in black and white because it is a painful memory of Jean-Louis, and he knows what happened only from the words of strangers, so the scene looks crumpled and unsaid. Cases with the wife of A. Porokhovshchikov, etc. indicate that such a love addiction (symbiosis with another person) is not a deliberate exaggeration of the director, but actually occurs in life.
The world acquires meaning and colors only when we put our own soul into our perception.
It is significant how detailed the thought-trip of Jean-Louis from Monte Carlo after receiving the telegram is shown. For Anna, the world has already made sense when she gives a telegram, while a doubtful man moves through the morning haze, fog and frost in the black and white night. When he still decides on a morning visit to Anna, the morning blooms with the colors of the long-awaited dawn.
You should try to watch such films throughout your life, and God forbid that you will ever be able to paint your gray wretched world with the same colors.
The most elegant revelation is the memory of the soul and is the memory of the heart, there is the memory of the body and the memory of the mind, and one of them can keep a long-dead person on earth and he continues to live, albeit by the memory of bodily touches or voices.
It is impossible to replace one person with another.
Their recollections of their first dinner attempt don’t give rise to feelings of vitality, they’re black and white, like filming, as opposed to living somewhere deep inside their inner imagination. In Heinrich Bell’s novel A House Without a Master, the young poet’s widow conjures up colored memory films featuring her murdered husband. She runs these films over and over again and also "misses" her chance for a new love. Or she doesn’t let go of someone she wants to be with forever. Even in the imagination.
And yet He overtakes Her slow train in a car, and she is still changing, and he meets her at the train station in Paris. But their world is still black and white.