Eric Rohmer died yesterday shortly before his ninetieth birthday. Even five years ago when I interviewed him, he was frail. A stooped old man who had trouble running. But by clear and troubled mind. He said, eruptive, quickly and in long sequences with many filling sound, he could not as expected, that the next sentence comes as soon as possible. He sat at an old desk between stacks of books and reciprocating sliding on the chair. The squeak was in the transcription at least as disturbing as his teeth came out, mumbled the word through the cascade more than spoken.
Ironically, yesterday I performed together with Franz Müller my second interview in French in Paris. In the fashionable Café Lutétia on the smaller of the two islands. Agnes Jaoui and Jean-Pierre Bacri against us were sitting. It was a similar passion and anxiety felt. One would think that it makes a big difference whether the Interlocutors are in a crisis in the middle of their career, which has already brought them some success, or whether, as Rohmer's time to look back on a rich life's work. But that was not the case. Rohmer, who would have to sit back and bask in the glow of its own success, was extremely nervous because I wanted to talk to him about his novel he has written 25. I wanted him to convince them not to evaluate the failed as - as he has done for decades - but as a happy precursor to some of his finest films.
He has with this book, whose first edition he has blocked shortly after the publication in 1947 itself, quarreled for decades. Only two years ago he has a new edition of the novel finally authorized yet. With a preface, which inspired much of our conversation, he has also admitted to me. But he also has in that time made a film and was very indignant that the French film promotion has encouraged not only one of its projects over the last twenty years, just because his approach, the fact that he was a ready and thus eligible for aid writer always shortly before the shooting, however, noticed by casting all the roles to deliver, could run counter to the criteria of promotion.
His last film may not have become prime be. Nevertheless, I wish for myself, that there are more filmmakers and writers who keep such passion and intellectual restlessness and in old age, no matter how wonderful making films such as "Conte d'autonne" or the unusual costume drama "Le Duc et l'anglaise. "
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