Diva: Memory Lane

Guess what I just finished watching... for the first time in ten years, at least. 

This is, of course, the scene of the great crime, the déception, le viol -- Jules tapes Cynthia Hawkins (Wilhelmenia Wiggins Fernandez), who has never allowed recording of her performances; His tape will come to mirror the other recording at the heart of the movie, the one of a murdered prostitute whose disembodied voice exposes Saporta --a  fiend of a crooked cop.

In my initial relationship with this film, I fell in love with Serge Gorodish and Alba -- I mean, really -- they *are* super-cool.  There will always be a place in my heart for Alba -- she reminds me of someone very dear -- but my admiration for Serge is now more of a nod in the direction of what makes the movie move.

Though I confess that I covet his various digs.

A lot!

I further confess that were I bleeding to death in a phone booth, assassins on my heels, I would want the singsong lilt of Alba to take me home.

I've never read the book from which Diva was adapted -- by Daniel Odier (Delacorta).  Reminder to self. 

Perilously close to schmaltz, the Promenade Sentimentale (Cosma) scene either almost makes me weep or successfully pisses me off.  There is no in between.  The music, of course, is perfection itself.



Vladimir Cosma