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r o u n d e a u a f t e r w a t c h i n g g e r a r d d e p a r d i e u s p e a k l o v e l y u n i n t e l l i g i b l e t h i n g s
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C H A N D A J . G L A S S
I don't speak a lick of french, but I'll cry at the courtyard scene
every damn time. Already dead but still brave, he
draws that old sword, and that's enough to undo
me. I think I cry for this dumb lover, not Roxane, who
saw only what she wanted to see.
I mean, come on. He's late for the first time in fourteen
years, stumbles, looks pale, and is bleeding
from massive head trauma. This is unusual,
no? But then, I don't speak french.
So she'll die a virgin in a convent after sitting there for fourteen
years next to the heart of her heart, never looking
directly at him, sewing. The voice, the words...two plus two...
She seems unwilling to to do the math. But Depardieu
loves her anyway, falls over dead, and I cry even
though I don't understand the french.
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