The Birth of Love studies two friends, who seem only vaguely aware that their time has past. Paunchy, stringy-haired Paul, a minor stage actor, carries on a succession of affairs with younger women while ignoring his pregnant wife Ulrika. Marcus, whose girlfriend Hélène has just left him, is an aging journalist who still dreams of writing an earthshaking book. Hélène and Ulrika, who in spite of their discontent, are one step ahead of the men with their acceptance of what life has brought them. What follows is a search to return to the purity of their cherished ideals – a longing to overcome the complacency of aging and familiar comfort in order to recapture their passion. –skvot-pop.blogspot.com
Philippe Garrel is a French director, cinematographer, screenwriter, editor and producer. His movies have won him awards at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival and Venice Film Festival. He was born in Paris in 1948, the son of actor Maurice Garrel. He started his film career early directing and writing his first film Lés Enfants Désaccordés in 1964. Garrel met Nico in 1969 when she performed the song “The Falconer” for his film Le Lit de la Vierge and the couple were soon living together. Nico first appeared in the 1972 film La Cicatrice Intériure (aka the Inner Scar). Songs included in the film appear on Nico’s album Desertshore, which features stills from the film on the front and back covers. Nico appeared in a number of Garrel’s films after this. Their ten year relationship ended in 1979.
Prix Jean Vigo for the film L’Enfant Secret. He won Perspectives du Cinéma Award at the Cannes Film Festival in 1984 for his 1983 film la Nuit Liberté. Over a ten year period, Garrel enjoyed… read more
French talkfest that looks at the long dark tea time of the soul of two bland self-obsessed fortiesh lotharios involved with women way outside of their league. Elevated by the casting but the script just meanders along with little to add to the notions of manhood. Leaud and Castel well cast and the film is exceptionally photographed. One of those pictures that just stops as opposed to actually having an ending.
If Rossellini at his best was unparalleled at depicting the ebb & flow of visuality as a metaphor for being, Garrel seems past master at providing us with emotional tides as stand ins for that ultimate unknowable. Is this film, with twinned agonists one darkly comic one dumb-dog somnambulant, only bearable because like Marcus' train we know it is limited & these limits provide coordinates for our imagination?