The Beaches of Agnes

Agnès Varda: 'Memory is like sand in my hand' in The Beaches of Agnes

At 81, Agnès Varda had made a documentary about her own life and her experiences The 'grandmother of the French new wave' talks about her different ports of call in the late 20th-century.

"It is at once an illustration of the fine art of foraging and an autobiographical portrait, narrated by its self-described “little old lady, pleasantly plump.” ... Ms. Varda is picking through the world, close to home and far afield, finding images that please her and give her pause ... that she scrutinizes with rue if no obvious regret. But here the emphasis is on her own life and the images and memories that, with time, have blurred together. ... The images are as delightful, unexpected and playfully uninhibited ... At one point, she says she thinks of all men who look at the sea as Ulysses (she’s an aquatic soul), but she’s every bit the wanderer. Whether she’s roving a beach with a camera or rummaging through flea markets, she seeks and finds, gleaning — the word means to collect and examine — what this world of wonders has in store" Manohla Dargis The New York Times

"Some of those who have seen the film "They cry about Jacques because many people liked him and they like the love I had for him, and they feel sensitive the pain we had. We separated for a while in the 80s, but we got back together and we wanted to age together – I think people feel the frustration of not being able to do that. I'm ageing alone because I had the pain of losing him and seeing him die. People have experienced that and they know that it can hurt you – but also that life brings you to love life." an old friend. Andrée Vilar's diminishing memory has left her with a single resource: poetry, which she recites all day long. Les feuilles mortes (with translation) par Jacques Prévert. - Agnes Varda

C’est une chanson, qui nous ressemble
Toi tu m’aimais et je t’aimais
Nous vivions tous, les deux ensemble
Toi que m’aimais moi qui t’aimais
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment
Tout doucement sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur la sable
Les pas des amants désunis

Oh! je voudrais tant que tu te souviennes
Des jours heureux ou nous étions amis
En ce temps-la la vie était plus belle,
Et le soleil plus brulant qu’aujourd’hui
Les feuilles mortes se ramassent a la pelle
Tu vois, je n’ai pas oublié…
Les feuilles mortes se ramassent a la pelle,
Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi
Et le vent du nord les emporte
Dans la nuit froide de l’oubli.
Tu vois, je n’ai pas oublié
La chanson que tu me chantais.

C’est une chanson qui nous ressemble
Toi, tu m’aimais et je t’aimais
Et nous vivions tous deux ensemble
Toi qui m’aimais, moi qui t’aimais
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment
Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants désunis.

Les feuilles mortes se ramassent a la pelle,
Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi
Mais mon amour silencieux et fidèle
Sourit toujours et remercie la vie
Je t’aimais tant, tu étais si jolie,
Comment veux-tu que je t’oublie?
En ce temps-la, la vie était plus belle
Et le soleil plus brulant qu’aujourd’hui
Tu étais ma plus douce amie
Mais je n’ai que faire des regrets
Et la chanson que tu chantais
Toujours, toujours je l’entendrai!

C’est une chanson qui nous ressemble
Toi, tu m’aimais et je t’aimais
Et nous vivions tous deux ensemble
Toi qui m’aimais, moi qui t’aimais
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment
Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants désunis.

A song like us, birds of a feather,
You loving me, me loving you,
And we lived happily together,
You loving me, me loving you.
But life tears apart gentle lovers
Who quietly obey their heart,
And the sea invades the sand and covers
The footsteps of those torn apart.

Oh, I would like you so much to remember
Those happy days when we were friends, and how
Life in those times was more lovely and tender,
Even the sun shone more brightly than now.
Dead leaves are gathering as in December
You see how one never forgets…
Dead leaves are gathering as in December,
Just like the memories and the regrets.
And then the north wind comes and sweeps them
Into oblivion’s icy night.
You see how I never forgot
That old song that you sang for me.

A song like us, birds of a feather,
You loving me, me loving you,
And we lived happily together,
You loving me, me loving you.
But life tears apart gentle lovers
Who quietly obey their heart,
And the sea invades the sand and covers
The footsteps of those torn apart.

Dead leaves are gathering, dead leaves are piling
Up just like memories and like regrets.
But still my love goes on quietly smiling
Thankful for life and for all that it gets.
I loved you so, you were ever so lovely,
How can I forget? Tell me how!
Life in those times was more sweet and beguiling,
Even the sun shone more brightly than now.
You were my most sweet friend and lover,
But regret just isn’t my thing,
And I’ll keep hearing all the time
The old song that you used to sing.

A song like us, birds of a feather,
You loving me, me loving you,
And we lived happily together,
You loving me, me loving you.
But life tears apart gentle lovers
Who quietly obey their heart,
And the sea invades the sand and covers
The footsteps of those torn apart.

When I recently came across her work it reminded me of the powerful gravitational pull of our senses and how no matter fleeting their time together, Jacques remains alive through her cross-modal lens and recitation of his words and songs (a sort of lexical synesthesia into emotional recall). Her devotion transcends time and space, through recollection of their shared sense memories together.  She grapples with the inner turmoil of the loss at times of their relationship,, which fluctuates between affinity and a weakness for the need to “obey” the heart (and thus "give in" to the sea), which will inevitably drown their footprints.  In the film, she creates a magical, spectacle of a world on the beach complete with trapeze artists and circus performers, swinging over the sea.  I think this is her way to cope with the grief, instead recasting the ethereal moments spent on the shore together back somehow through affective memory, retreating to a paradise they once knew together..  

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