Those Who Love Me Can Take the Train (2000) - Synopsis

Those who love me can take the Train (2000)

A train. A beautiful spring day.

Someone looks out of the window: "Is it legal to transport a coffin in a private car?" Everyone falls silent. A Peugeot station wagon stands out now on the horizon across a wheat field, moving very fast parallel to the train and sometimes quite close to it. We see the driver's face. People wave to him, he disappears, seeming suddenly to veer off in secret little roads, only to reappear a bit farther on.

A moment of silence. Everyone eyes the bulky shadow in the rear of the car that blocks the windows and fills the space. All eyes are on Jean-Baptiste's coffin. Then a tunnel shuts them in, deafening and black.

In the twilight of his life, before letting go and abandoning an existence that no longer amused him, a man said - a man who had always lived in Paris "I want to be buried in Limoges," although nothing awaited him there but a city to which he owed nothing and which knew nothing of him. He had said, as if apologizing for going into such distant exile "Those who love me can take the train."

Jean-Baptiste had been a painter and, like an old cat, he had lived several lives. He had painted, drawn, taught, going through major crises and so much doubt that one day he just stopped. Then he began again, better than before, more secret than before, to draw, to paint, and teach because he loved his students too much and they adored him. Boys and girls, all fascinated by this man, all sexually aroused by his presence.

He loved the boys, and that didn't bother the girls much, some were even charmed by it. He loved the boys immoderately, and nearly all of them had been in the snack bar at the Paris Austerlitz train station earlier that day, along with the girls who had married them.

Lovers were there, and lovers' lovers, ex-lovers' new wives, old friends, casual acquaintances, and the faithful. There would be the train trip, the dozing off, the uncontrollable giggles. At the end of the train, the provincial relatives sat in a stunned little bunch. Waiting for them was the big family home, haunted by this onslaught. All those Jean-Baptiste had taught to shine, who had grown in the light of his charm and in the astonishing rivalry that had sprung up among them.

Over and above their sadness, a wild, funny, marvelous adventure for the people who were now sipping the poisonous Austerlitz station coffee.

Jean-Baptiste's nephew, Jean-Marie, and his wife, Claire. He is an overgrown boy of 35, she seemed so frail, so provocative, shaky and strong. They split up a month or two ago, no one else knew that yet and this unforeseen journey has suddenly reunited them, as others looked on curiously.

Farther along, Francois, a former student of Jean-Baptiste's, now a burly man of 43 whom his old teacher had loved for a long time, a very long time and whose back he probably broke by constantly chiding him that it wasn't strong enough. And Louis, who is a little younger. Louis lives with Francois.

In the middle of the train, Bruno, a very young man, so young he hasn't been shaving for long and whom no one knows, an anguished 20 year-old, full of life and silence, an annoying and sensual enigma, a laughing boy who is as serious as hope itself.

This long day in the lives of all these people, is an important journey towards illumination. At first the idea of spending a say in Limoges leaves them irked, anxious and impatient. There's an impulse to get it over with fast, but that will soon subside, engulfed in the train's movement. A day when time stands still and grows meaningless.

The hostility of the first physical contact between Louis and Bruno, furtive, long, short, violent, who knows? and their unhoped for departure together. The sudden beauty of Claire who again falls asleep fully dressed in Jean-Marie's arms, their departure, together again too, appeased, paradoxical. François, who calmly confronts the loneliness he wanted and that he already knows will be unbearable.

What else?

Hostility, of course, and all these heartbreaks, which is just the other face of mourning. Occasional violence, and blows that will never be so lovingly dealt as here. What's most important to them all, to Jean-Marie, to Claire, Bruno, Louis: the magic of this journey will bring light and a little passion, a lot of laughter and pain, more lightness and a bit more self-knowledge. Grief here must show benefit, the harm done to others will be put right, and the sons will find their fathers again - their real ones, or the ones they prefer to invent, it doesn't matter which.

So what is the film? Two short days, like a gift bestowed by Jean-Baptiste, the man who has just passed on, and who charmed them so much.