“L’amour Fou,” produced by French film maker Pierre Thoretton is a documentary that follows the relationship between Pierre Berge and fashion designer Yves Saint Laurent (mostly) before the designer’s death on June 1, 2008. It also follows Pierre Berge after the death of Laurent and his decision to auction off a good portion of the Paris estate. One of the common themes in the film is introduced in the beginning when Saint Laurent is reading his press release to the audience of photographers, journalists and fashionistas alike, is the theme of going through hell and back again. He references the great French poet, Arthur Rimbaud in his speech. I am including the entire English translation of his farewell speech. I’m sure that somewhere online there is a manuscript of his farewell speech in its original French language. So here it is (as far as it is translated correctly) this is not meant to be an allusion to the Mormon articles of faith (number 8) belief in the Bible “as long as it is translated correctly). The music score, although often somewhat repetitive, is very well suited for the tone of the film—often a bit nostalgic, somewhat melancholy, but always hopeful and representative of a grand and decadent lost paradise.

I think several series of images capture Berge walking out of darkened, empty rooms or spaces where once the belongings of he and his partner—the glorious statues paintings vases decorated the walls and marbled floors—where he is left with the only the glorious world around him. The opening shows footage of YSL sitting behind a table with what appear to be the microphones and recording devices of the press. I think it’s worth including the text in its entirety. A light stack of paper in front of him, notes scribbled or typed from his head, Saint Laurent delivers a final goodbye: 

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I have brought you here today with a great deal of emotion to tell you some important news concerning my personal life and my work. At 18, I was lucky enough to become assistant to Christian Dior, to succeed him at 21, and to meet with success my very first collection in 1958, 44 years ago in just a few days. Since then, I have lived for my work and through my work. I am very proud that women around the world wear trouser suits, tuxedos, car coats and trench coats. I tell myself that I have created the modern woman's {wordrobe. (pun on wardrobe)}, that I have taken part in the transformation of my times. Forgive me for drawing any vanity from this since I have for a long time believed that fashion's role is not simply to make women more beautiful but also to reassure them, give them confidence and allow them to assert themselves. Every man needs aesthetic ghosts in order to live. I have pursued them, sought them, hunted them down. I have experienced many forms of anxiety, many forms of hell. I have known fear and terrible solitude, the false friendship of tranquilizers and drugs, the prison of depression and mental homes. I emerged from all that one day dazzled but sober. Marcel Proust has taught me that "the magnificent and pathetic family of the neurotic is the salt of the earth." I did not choose this fatal lineage yet it is what allowed me to rise up in the heaven of artistic creation, frequent what Rimbaud called "the makers of fire," find myself, and understand that the most important encounter in life is the encounter with oneself. Even so, I have chosen today to bid farewell to this profession that I have loved so much.

What follows is a visit to the past—a time of excitement, blossoming love, a skyrocketing career (following the death of French icon Christian Dior). And then later we see the period of time in which Saint Laurent is affected by drugs, sex, and rock ‘n’ roll. Although I would have to mention that opera also plays a large part of lives of these men. There are several pictures Berge brings attention to featuring Saint Laurent and the incredibly misunderstood (and prima diva) Callas.

The first reverence we have to the well-known French poet Rimbaud is in YSL’s speech in the beginning of the film. He quotes him directly:

I have been through fire and and the gates of hell..” only to come out again blah blah blah

One of the elements that creates a mood of melancholgy, loss, or wh what have you, is the combination of the archival footage of Laurent and the beautiful music of Côme Aguiar who also composed for movie title  and 2002Primitifs. Whose soundtrack is  a lovely dedication hors d’ vouers. Lovely port o’ prince to the infamous jane dough Eileen rombinson….

A critic on imdb.com believes that Laurent is, beyond the genius, just a “snob with kind eyes”. I disagree. I think he was an ambitious, motivated talent who rose to the top because, in part, where he was at the time of Christian Dior’s death, and an eye for aesthetic bliss. I don’t think any of these qualties identify one as a snob. Besides that, I think the snob is self-conscious, fully aware of their own greatness (or perceived greatness). And carries with them a degree of the attitude, “I’m better than the rest of you, so I automatically deserve to be adored,” which of course typically leads to the opposite or the former. Such is the case with editor in chief of Vogue Ana Wintour, who’s presence is often sensationalized and revered, or just as often if not more, oozing of pretentious snobbery. I prefer, however, the term pompous elitist. Far from Wintour, I think, is Laurent. At least on the surface (and during a certain part of his life) there was an air of humility, “pathological” shyness, and less austere, more playful kind of personality. He is often seen smiling with a boyish chuckle that comes with insecurity or awkwardness. He was kind of a little geek when you think about it—until the later years when he had achieved so much success and developed friendships with a plethora of celebrities including Bob Dylan, Andy Warhol, and LouLou De La Falaise. Maybe that is when the music started to change. But I digress here somewhat. Editing is a bitch and a half.