Blog Details

In the working-class district of old Marseille, Rosa is the heart and soul of her community, a nurse and matriarch of a large, close-knit family. She meets Henri and realises that it is never too late to fulfil her own dreams. The collapse of the buildings on rue d’Aubagne in Marseille occurred on 5 November 2018 at 9am, killing eight people. These were two ruined buildings in the city centre. This tragedy opens the film; Robert Guédiguian has become the committed director of our times. Like his English colleague, Kenneth Loach, Robert Guédiguian portrays the other side of the mirror; in the French feel-good scene, his works are, more than ever, essential; because they are not exactly what they call “feel-good”, although there are moments in his work that give the viewer more joy than trendy films. His masterpieces “La Ville Est Tranquille” “Les Neiges Du kilimandjaro” or the forgotten “Une Histoire De Fous” are endearing stories that go straight to the heart: generous, shameless, full of compassion. Rosa (the wonderful Arianne Ascaride, Guédiguian’s life partner and protagonist of most of his films) has these lines that are the key to the film: “We should have two lives: one to take care of ourselves and one to take care of our fellow men.” Like many of the director’s films, “Let the party continue!” is the chronicle of a family in Marseille. A “la ville est tranquille” in miniature, the script is made up of subplots (I have always thought that Julien Duvivier was Guédiguian’s closest relative), in particular “la belle équipe”, “sous le ciel de Paris” and “la fête à Henriette” (from which “à (The Attack is a kind of political remake.) Rosa, now sixty, takes stock of her life: a devoted nurse – the scene in which she comforts her black colleague, desperate because he did not hold his patient’s hand when he died is admirable – she is also a militant, she has so many tasks to do at once that it becomes impossible to carry them out; discouragement is near and breaks out during the meeting of the candidates. Her son has found the woman of his life and intends to have many children; moreover, the father of the future bride is also a militant who falls in love with Rosa; it may seem melodramatic on paper, but Guédiguian’s treatment avoids pathos and dramatization; the young man’s love, after escaping a possible shame, shows him that life can go on, even if not according to his plans. His father (the wonderful Darroussin, Guédiguian’s favorite actor, who often acted alongside Ascaride), will be the light that still shines in Rosa’s darkest night. Together they will fight against the “marchands de sommeil” (dream dealers) who rent apartments unfit for habitation, in the scene, around the bust of Homer, where the voices multiply until they become one. The heroine finally relaxes to the point of recognizing that the personal is personal, as well as political; which in turn makes her more endearing and more effective; the Aznavour classic. “emmenez moi” – unlike most of his colleagues, Guédiguian uses the FRENCH songbook – is a transparent metaphor: outside the harsh realities of life, happiness is not out of our reach.