Tag Archives: Isabelle HUppert

Changing Mitts

All about Isabelle Huppert in Copacabana is scary: her extravaganza, her unpredictability, her carelessness, her outbursts, and her craziness. You do not want to be her daughter, her lover and her friend. And yet you end up being her daughter (Lolita Chammah, her real daughter in life), her lover, and her friend (lending her your car knowing very well that the car will never be returned). “Isabelle Huppert is in the movie very much like she is in life: full of humor, of life and energy although we are used to see her in very different roles. ” said the director Marc Fitoussi who was presenting his film for the second night in a row in New York as part of the New Directors New Films festival organized by the Film Society of the Lincoln Center. Copacabana is Fitoussi’s second movie as director and scriptwriter, and he is working on the next one between France and Italy with Sandrine Kimberlain.
Isabelle is looking for a job; she needs the money but never totally fits in: she is a free spirit, a resilient soul and her inner life always takes over. She finds a job as selling timeshare apartments in Ostende. In one of the scenes, Isabelle Huppert alias Babou is selling her commodities to English tourists arriving by ferry to Oostende. “Isabelle did it for real and got some “clients”. She is now proud to say around that if she cannot be an actress anymore she will make a living selling real estate!”
All about Isabelle Huppert is sophisticated, that extra red she is applying with sensuality to her lips, the mitts – red, pink or blue- she chooses according to her mood. “She put a lot of time in choosing her clothes” added Fitoussi. The red boots with a blue silk short dress, the green mini robe and the ubiquitous fur coat…

It is a movie about mother/daughter, about the power of a free spirited, resilient and beautiful woman.
(Check out lfny.org for a possible screening at the Lycee Francais de New York in the coming weeks)

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A Tribute to Paris Match, A French Icon!

A few hours ago I posted that Paris Match had become American!

The deal  between Lagardere and Hearst excludes Paris Match and the French Elle. So Paris Match will stay French. I leave my tribute online as I do feel a magazine belongs to a country, to a culture. Vanity Fair would probably do pretty badly in France ( although many have wanted to create a French Vanity Fair) and Paris Match belongs to France. So the post should really be: Paris Match: More French Than Ever!

Will Paris Match become American? Incredible! Le poids des mots, le choc des photos (The importance of the words and the choc of the photos) according to their famous slogan. The deal was concluded. Hearst is buying Lagardere active for over 600 million Euros! Quite a symbolic day!

The covers of French Paris Match are milestones in my life: the first wedding of Caroline de Monaco, the wedding of Diana, the second wedding of Caroline….

This is also where I discovered journalism working as a trainee journalist for 3 years. The magazine was still located avenue des Champs Elysees, and Roger Therond was president. Everybody in the magazine had a “grande gueule”, a Gerard Depardieu kind of aura. There were always extraordinary things happening in one day. An amateur photographer would show up with exclusive photos of a flood in the South of France, a photo agency would bring the only photos of Baron Empain kept in confinement by his hijackers, or we received photos ofthe visit of Isabelle Huppert, only 25, who had just been crowned in Cannes at the film festival.

There were reporters following the same story for weeks, (sur une planque) basically guarding a place 24 hours a day, to note any suspicious whereabouts which could become a story -such as looking for clues in front the avenue Hoche apartment of Baron Empain.

There were those who covered the wars all over the world and came back with their tales – it was like having bonuses to the articles with their anecdotes.

There were those who specialized in the Monaco family and spent time between Le Rocher, Saint Tropez, Megeve and Paris.

Michel Sola, then Director of Photography and later Editor in Chief, would stay for what seemed to me hours in his office negotiating the price of photos with the agencies, Gamma, Sygma. This was probably the most important part of the day.

On the day of finishing the magazine, the famous jour du bouclage a generous buffet was served in the main room. All the stories were pinned up on the walls. Roger Therond would come in late, most of the time, after his diner, and would decide on the stories, the ones to keep, the ones to trash, and heads would roll. It was heart breaking. They all smoked Gitanes. It was all very French!

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