In three adverbs, Annie Girardot explained how much she had missed French cinema: “
Crazy.
Desperately.
Painfully
”.
It was at the César, in 1996. His performance in
Les Misérables
had earned him an award.
On stage, she was in tears, in a funny black outfit hatched with white.
The golden statuette seemed so heavy in his hands.
We had trembled, lost, infinitely weary, this sparrow that had fallen from the nest.
It was the cry for help from an oiled bird.
We wouldn't have been surprised to suddenly hear him talk about her in the third person.
In the face of adversity, she had a sort of grandeur.
Despite the crumpled features, eyes wet with despair, his decline was filled with dignity.
In the room, the French cinema applauded standing.
Tuxedos stood between the rows of red armchairs.
This ovation was without a future.
Once stale, French cinema did not do much for her.
Yet he could have.
He owed him some of
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