Director: Alain Resnais
Screenplay: Jacques Sternberg, Alain Resnais
Starring: Claude Rich, Olga Georges-Picot, Anouk Ferjac, Alain MacMoy, Vania Vilers, Ray Verhaeghe, Van Doude
Country: France
Running Time: 95 min
Year: 1968
BBFC Certificate: TBC
The French filmmaker Alain Resnais followed up Claude Ridder, his short segment in the anthology film Far from Vietnam, with a sci-fi feature centering around a character of the same name. It was co-written by Jacques Sternberg, who was primarily a writer of novels and short stories but also wrote Claude Ridder. The finished film would eventually be called Je t’aime, je t’aime (a.k.a. I Love You, I Love You).
I’ve only seen a couple of Alain Resnais’ films, Hiroshima Mon Amour and Last Year at Marienbad, and, whilst I appreciated their artistry and intelligence, I found them both quite difficult to watch, particularly the latter. As such, I’ve been a little reluctant to approach any of the rest of the highly regarded director’s work, believing it not to be my cup of tea.
However, when Radiance Films announced they’d be releasing Resnais’ Je t’aime, je t’aime on Blu-ray, I decided to risk diving into another of his mind-bending think-pieces. The prime selling point was the fact it’s been cited as a major influence on Michel Gondry’s Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a film I adore.
Resnais always had a thing for exploring time and memory in his films, so it was only a matter of time before he tackled the subjects quite literally. In Je t’aime, je t’aime, we focus on Claude Ridder (Claude Rich), a man deeply broken by a recent failed suicide attempt following his lover’s death. He agrees to participate in a radical scientific experiment. The experiment, conducted by a mysterious research team, aims to explore the human mind’s capacity for reliving past moments.
Instead of a linear progression through time, however, Claude finds himself plunged into a fragmented, chaotic journey through his own memories, specifically those he shared with his deceased lover, Catrine (Olga Georges-Picot). He becomes trapped within the “memory circuit,” a labyrinth of his past, where moments of joy and pain are juxtaposed and repeated, losing their chronological order. He struggles to distinguish between reality and the echoes of his past, desperately trying to find Catrine within the disorienting maze of his recollections.
Sadly, but not unexpectedly, whilst I found Je t’aime, je t’aime to be admirably clever and unique, once again I didn’t connect with it. I guess Resnais is just not a director for me.
The film didn’t seem to have enough of an arc or structure to latch onto. It plays out like a dizzying jumble of moments. Yes, that was the point, and they add up to something, I guess, but nothing I didn’t gather quite early on in proceedings.
It’s a film I can admire and appreciate on a number of levels though, and I was enjoying it considerably to begin with. It’s just that I lost interest further down the line and never found the central romance all that convincing.
There is some humour here and there, helping make the film more watchable than Last Year at Marienbad, but I found it less visually appealing.
There was an interesting and effective quirk in the cinematography though. Resnais originally planned to shoot Claude’s memories from a first person perspective, only seeing him in the present day sections and in mirrors. However, the director had a last minute change of heart and decided instead to always have Rich in the centre of frame. This keeps our attention constantly focused on the character, reminding us we’re seeing everything through his eyes but doesn’t lose the qualities of the central performance.
I think having it in a first person perspective would have been even more disorientating too, and the centralising of Claude in frame assists some wonderful match-cutting in the otherwise jarring cuts between memories.
Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki’s haunting, unusual choral score adds to the dreamlike sense of unease. It’s used sparingly but makes a big impact whenever it creeps in.
So, whilst I was intrigued by the concept behind Je t’aime, je t’aime and the fractured structure is bold, I didn’t connect with the emotional core of the film or with what Resnais was trying to say. I found myself caught in Claude’s memory trap initially but wanted to get out by the end. Perhaps that’s the point, but it didn’t make for easy viewing.
Film: 
Je t’aime, je t’aime is out on 24th March on region-free Blu-Ray, released by Radiance Films. The transfer looks great, with crisp details and natural colours and grain structure. I’ve used screengrabs throughout this review to give you an idea of how it looks. It sounds great too.
LIMITED EDITION BLU-RAY FEATURES
– 2K restoration, presented on UK Blu-ray for the first time
– Uncompressed mono PCM audio
– Interview with critic and David Jenkins (2024)
– Audio interview with director Alain Resnais (2007)
– Interview with actor Claude Rich (2007)
– Interview with screenwriter Jacques Sternberg and film historian and Resnais expert François Thomas (2007)
– In the Ears of Alain Resnais – a documentary on the filmmaker with a focus on music and voices in his work, featuring collaborators and critics including the filmmaker himself, actor Lambert Wilson, writer and actress Agnés Jaoui, critic Michel Ciment and others (Geraldine Boudot, 2020, 54 mins)
– Optional English subtitles
– Reversible sleeve featuring artwork based on original poster designs
– Limited edition booklet featuring new writing by Catherine Wheatley
– Limited edition of 3000 copies, presented in full-height Scanavo packaging with removable OBI strip leaving packaging free of certificates and markings.
David Jenkins provides a 13 minute essay on the film. It works nicely as a handy overview and he gives his thoughts on what makes the film special.
There’s also an audio interview with Resnais himself. He describes some of the process of putting the film together, particularly the writing with Jacques Sternberg.
Claude Rich is also interviewed. He recounts his memories of the production, as well as his trip to the Cannes Film Festival on the year it was cancelled. It’s an enjoyable piece.
The piece with screenwriter Jacques Sternberg and film historian and Resnais expert François Thomas runs for about 20 minutes. It focuses on Sternberg’s input to the film and how it fits among the author’s work, overall.
The most substantial extra, however, is a 54-minute documentary on the use of sound and music in Resnais’ films. This stylistically playful piece is wonderful, even if the visual quirks get slightly distracting in places. Sound is an often overlooked aspect of cinema criticism, but it’s a vital element of a film’s construction. Even silent films can be altered dramatically by their musical accompaniment. This documentary delves into how Resnais took an unusual but effective approach to shaping the aural aspects of his films.
I didn’t receive a copy of the booklet to comment on that, unfortunately.
So, whilst I didn’t warm to the film itself, I can’t argue that Radiance haven’t put together an excllent collection of special features to complement it. Recommended to Resnais fans and those with a taste for more cerebral filmmaking.
Disc/package:
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