articulates the inarticulable. that perpetual loneliness stemming from an inability to connect, a refusal to play the "singles" game of one night stands and futile flirting. a cavernous longing for actual romance, for actual companionship. the irrational urge to push people away and isolate when what you really want is the opposite. the feeling of laying on a crowded beach and still falling victim to the perception that you're the only person in the world. and complaining about the emptiness inside doesn't help, because when you try to articulate it, you're met with ripostes like "why don't you try going out and meeting people?" which is a perfectly sane suggestion, so you're not sure why it cuts like a knife. you're also not sure why connecting with strangers or traveling alone isn't easy for you, like it is for everyone else. after awhile, you get used to the dull ache. there is no solution, and the journey to make peace with that is barely bearable. but it is bearable. and no one is alone. i know this because so many reviews on here are written by people who see themselves so fully in Delphine (myself included). we all feel this exact same way; we're just not talking about it. perhaps out of embarrassment, alienation, shame, a belief that no one else will understand. again, this nebulous feeling is almost inarticulable, but Marie Rivière has managed to put it into words, and Éric Rohmer (along with cinematographer Sophie Maintigneux) have put it into images. will be thinking about this one every time the sun sets.
