Scintillements

Facing the camera, but never looking straight at it, a man – the film-maker– handles photos scattered on a table, takes one, then another, and, in discovered snatches, he pieces together the stages of a now dead passion. This elementary device also turns out to be formidable in all respects. Comments inspired by the photos are not enough to establish exactly what happened or how everything fell apart. But, as the photos are gradually shown to us – and as the film-maker tries to pick out a revealing detail in them, the premonition of the end, or the fateful turning point – the abundance of images and recollections builds up to a flood of excess, making the wound of loss even more painful.