Photo: Bernard Langlois Agence France-Presse
The style of Depardieu’s voice. Between the confession and the pamphlet.
“Today, it is the information that reign. With all these channels continuously, these new means of communication, the information landed in the loop. It looks like an army conquering in a science-fiction novel, which has come to colonize our spaces, to create dumps. It cuts all the paths that could bring us back to ourselves. “
We read and heard. The low tone of his gravelly voice, with, as a bonus, by moments, the deep breaths and slow it installs sometimes in the pauses of his speech, as markers of the affliction that this seems to be inspired in him.
The free spirit, the outspoken, the look sometimes lucid, never cynical, on human stupidity : everything is there, in this collection of thoughts by Gérard Depardieu, a sacred monster of French cinema, which reveals its true face in Monster (Cherche midi). He talks about his childhood, his friendships, the cinema, the weight of the time on those broad shoulders… The appearance is that of monologue, that he would be delivered, sitting shirtless at the table of a rustic cuisine, between a glass of Noble Joué and a plate of pork. The style is voice. Between the confession and the pamphlet.
“Talking about sexual harassment, but it all became harassment — politics, the media, the society, this information throbbing. It talks too much, he writes. Too many words to be honest. This is really the persecution. Not to say occupation. “And he adds :” To force to receive the blows from elsewhere, the mental health is achieved, it would almost be summed up in the shit that we do in the morning. “
Gérard Depardieu made his Gerard Depardieu, an animal wild and free that for moons takes advantage of his notoriety to grow his intransigence. A human friendly as well, which, under the skin of a beast in which it cloaks itself since always, hides cracks. “I will not let me enter nor by pain, nor by death, he writes. At my age and in my state, if I was listening to, I’d be all the time in the hospital. Not that my health is very poor, but I feel the same when the passing of time, with my knee pain, my surgery, my breaths shorter. “
“Me, I’m intact, and I don’t care “, was written in 1873, Arthur Rimbaud in Bad blood, one of the poetic pieces that make up its Illuminations. The assertion, enigmatic desire, fits perfectly to this Depardieu who leaves the territory of his sentences, his aphorisms, his poetry capture as much of the fake-ass this, the memory ” of Dede “, his father, his son, Guillaume, in which he asks for forgiveness, that the “monstrosity” of the Italian cinema, that of Risi, Monicelli, Scola, Fellini, Pasolini, Ferrari that he has attended. This cinema, he says, is monstrous, because human.
That sums up a genre, an era, just as the roots of the thought of man’s absolute, which, in these pages, speaks.
Gérard Depardieu, Cherche midi, Paris, 2017, 212 pages