Memory

One of my other all-time favorite films is “Hiroshima mon amour,” the 1959 Alain Renais movie about a short-lived but intense love affair between a French actress, played by Emmanuel Riva, and a Japanese man, played by Eiji Okada. The story takes place in Hiroshima and is infused with memories of the atomic bomb destruction, but also the trauma’s that Riva’s character endured as the war concluded.

Riva’s character in particular has numerous monologues about her memories, ones involving her personal experiences in a French village during the war, and of Hiroshima, what she has seen and remembers from recalled stories. One of the enduring themes of the film is how unreliable our memory can be, even for events in the recent past, and how emotions can overwhelm and warp our recollection.

In this scene, we are introduced to Julie’s mother (who is never named) who lives in a stunningly beautiful, well appointed nursing home complex that could be mistaken for a Versailles in the woods. It is clear almost immediately that her mother suffers from dementia, because she recognizes Julie as her long departed sister. Kieslowski connects to the memory issues by casting Riva in this role.

But the scene isn’t entirely about memory and loss. Julie’s mom says that she passes the time watching television where “you can see the whole world.” She’s watching a program about people making bungee jumps, which to be honest terrifies me. I’m afraid of heights, for one, but I have an even greater fear of grifters who operate thrill rides for profit. I am not going to put my life in the hands of someone whose job it is to inspect the integrity of the bungee, the quality of the latch, or anything else necessary to ensure my personal safety.

Julie watches this and her mother asks about her husband and child. She calmly tells her that they are dead.

She also tells her mother that she was happy once, that they loved her and she loved them. But now she has only one thing to live for — nothing. She wants no possessions, no memories, no friends or lovers, because they are traps.

Julie has one more thing on her mind, which was perhaps her reason for visiting. She asks if, when she was a child, she was afraid of mice. Her mother pauses and says, no, you (her sister Marie-France) were never afraid. But Julie was. The scene ends with Julie declaring “I’m afraid now.”