Recently in the British press, there have been stories about Georges Lopez and his pursuit of additional "compensation" in the wake of the international success of ETRE ET AVOIR. Two takes on the story from two papers of record:

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/internation...1318447,00.html
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml...10/wchips10.xml

Gives one pause, doesn't it?

Last year I saw Etre et avoir at the Cinema Village on East 12th Street in New York City, around the corner from the Bowlmor bowling alley on University Place. The experience triggered a flood of memories and reflections that I'm still trying to sift through and sort.

This documentary, by Nicolas Philibert, documents the waning days of a teacher, Georges Lopez, in rural France and the lives of his young charges. Philibert's camera captures illustrative snapshots that guide us through the lives of these people much in the same way that Lopez uses a gentle, Socratic-esque dialogue with his pupils to guide them.

The distance between teacher and student is fixed as they both float onward in life toward their destinies. There is something inexpressibly bittersweet in Lopez's mood - he knows what awaits these young people and carefully shepherds them toward self-discovery and toward the fulfilment of their potential. There is such faith on the part of the filmmaker in the ability of the face to express the depths of the soul. As I grow older, I, too, am finding myriad of beauty in the commonplace expressions of everyday life.

The film brought me back to my own childhood and the immediate realities of that time - oversized markers, rambles in the woods and through snowy fields, and the strange tribal behaviours of other children. I would also like to think I share some of these qualities when dealing with pesky slings and arrows or when helping a friend through troubles.

My mind also stretches back several years before my arrival move to London to my relationship with the young nephew of an old girlfriend, Kathy.

I met the boy, Danny, just after his fifth birthday some six years ago now. As the only son of Kathy's uncle on her father's side and the only young child in the immediate family, he was wildly popular at family gatherings. Kathy's aunt and uncle lived in a rural community called Stillwater (New Jersey), which is only a few miles from where I was raised in Blairstown. Since the dissolution of my parents' marriage and my subsequent relocation to town life in Montclair with Kathy, I took every opportunity to return and wander through the countryside I loved so much.

Although our relationship slowly fractured over time, she and I treasured our time with this sweet, energetic boy. Danny possessed a deep love of the natural world and a predisposition to adopt animals of every stripe. His mother taught biology at the local high school and his father loved nothing more than being outdoors hunting or fishing. Whereas I enjoy the creature comforts of a domesticated, quasi-rural, town, or city life, my soul never ceases to seek out the tranquility of open spaces. Perhaps I equate the countryside with a lost home and my youth. Hmmm ... best not to overanalyse, methinks.

The boy took to me immediately. I really don't know why at first. We became fast friends. After a long while wandering through the 20-something crowds of NYC, he was the first child I encountered as an adult.

Our conversations nearly always started with: "Uncle Johnny, tell me a story." or "Come over here, Uncle Johnny ... shhhh ... let's go ..." He would always proceed to lead me outside to ramble around the woods, or wander down by the lake. Danny took this time to ask me difficult life questions, wildly speculate about the nature of animals we'd see (memorably, butterflies and foxes), things that troubled him, or to ask to hear a ghost story.

One Thanksgiving several years ago now, we watched THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK. Every so often, Danny would lean over and ask why Luke did this or Vader did that. Explaining the various moral contexts for character motivation proved quite the challenge. My theatrical side revelled in the chance to amplify the film with asides in character and play-acting in the moment. Danny's intense questioning and concern for the fate of the players reminded me as a child asking my mum at the end of SON OF KONG (as the title character sinks into the ocean), "Can gorillas swim? They can, can't they?"

This was the first time a boy looked up to me as a guide and role model. Hard to convey that shock of responsibility when I realised that I had to be something a bit more than myself - or, rather, someone VERY much the man I had grown up to become. In his company I needed to project a bit of confidence, a bit of strength, a bit of sensitivity, remember to always be listening and respond to his queries with the seriousness with which they were made.

I never thought I'd be good with the specifics of dealing with children, having been cloaked in dreams all my life, but the sweet and the stern came without effort. There was a wonderful happiness in the passing on of experience and feeling ... giving the boy a taste of life beyond his immediate everyday existence and assuring him that the world was an adventure to be met with élan and zeal.

As my mum often said of raising me, I rediscovered ideas about play, recaptured a bit of wonder, and remembered the bliss of connecting with another human being. Those years were a troubled for me, and yet I think back on those "giddy and fast-paced times" with Danny so very fondly.

well now john,
you certainly 'rattled my cage' with your memories of this quiet wonderful film, in which a provincial french shool teacher inspires his young ilk to 'grab the world with both hands", and us as well!!-in the process.

I personally felt that msr.George 's reaction (i.e to ask for a 'fee' fro his performance) was probably based on anger more than spitefulness on his behest. One wonders if schoolteachers in suburban france are treated with so much shall we say financial disdain as in other parts of the world. It is a sad fact that these champoins of our most precious commodeity-the children-are not standing at the blackboard with more wages in their back pocket!!! anyway..a lovely touching film, one that moved me quite abit.

Like you, upon leaving the screening, I pondered the comings and goings onscreen in relation to my own past life...and thpught of how the film echos alot to me.

In my younger days, i to was 'sole charge' of an impressionable lad of my own.mine was a 14 year old called george (another 'tie-in' with the film I had just seen!!!!perhaps this coincidents was got my mind 'ticking' over). Now george was part of a gang of lads who would always come without fail to the saturday matinee at the cinema where i was a young novice projectionist given the responsibility of 'learning the ropes' by runnig the whole show-candybox, box office, projecting, raising the curtain, ejecting troublers-you name it ! i did it!! (and I think that beig thrown in the 'deepend' is the ONLY way to learn. Manuals etc are NOT helpful in real-life, in my book.)

George was a very very shy and unconfidant lad (who was raised in fact by his solo-mom, -a condition that in those days was very frowned upon in a small town)who was nicknamed "georgy peorgy" after the nursery ryme and how he would get teary eyed when the gang would chant '...kiss the girls and made them cry!..." because as shy as he was with us, around girls he was practically mortified. Now, as the 'Gang Elder" i soon put a stop to the japery and in my own way, took him under my wing, 'so to speak'. I would often banish the other lads from the booth during the terrytoons (mainly through blackmailing by lolly-scramble and other 'devious' methods!!) and georgy would stay quietly behind and 'learn the ropes' . He was an inquisitive lad, eager to learn...but not academically gifted. But soon he was helping me thread the projectors and checking splices like a old pro!!

Of course our friendship caused alot of sideways glances by the other members of the gang who thought he was somewhat of a 'teachers pet', which in a way he indeed was. But if the rest of the lads were content to sip their sodas and generally indulge in horseplay dwon in 'the stalls' then as far as i was concerned it was THEIR CHOICE!! Had any of them expressed an interest in an apprenticship then the position was 'up for grabs', it just so happened that the quiet sensiteve lad of the mob was the one who's interesst in 'the silver screen ' took preference over the 'ruff and tumble' of the lads.

Like you, john (and like George in ETRE ET AVIOR), a s a young man myself, i felt for the 1st time the sense of reponsibility in guiding this little man bravely thru the oftimes 'confusing' rites of childhood to manhood. I hope i did a good job. Through patients and understanding, a sympathetic ear, a encouraging smile , a tousle of the hair now and then I like to think that I prepared him a tiny bit to 'stand on his own to feet' and take lifes foibles like a man (when that time came).

I often wonder what indeed became of little "Georgy peorgy" from so many years ago.

JP