À la recherche du temps perdu — The Pink Dahlia
A film that left me with a lingering unease I can't quite name. Perhaps I felt it all the more because I don't know much about the history surrounding Marie Antoinette.
Story aside, I was moved by a glimpse of a scene in which a tapestry is being embroidered. Patient, quiet work — the same in every country.
One day, an embroidery commission from Marie arrives for the heroine. And there is, of all things, a sample book. Then again, in Japan a book of kimono designs was published as early as 1666, so perhaps it is only natural. The sample book in the film had brief descriptions, tiny swatches of fabric pasted in, and color illustrations. The one who takes the commission chooses a single pink dahlia. She is, by rights, Marie's reader — yet her skill surpasses that of the actual embroiderer. Without telling Marie, the reader, our heroine, finishes the dahlia in two days. And in those mere two days, Versailles collapses. Into a single dahlia she stitches all the love she has, offering Marie her loyalty. A small aside: Western embroidery today is mostly done in cotton thread, but at court in this era it was silk. Japanese embroidery is still silk today. What's more, it must begin with twisting the embroidery thread yourself.
Marie's clothing in this film is worlds apart from the heroine's, too. Marie, in a gilded room, in a gilded gown. The heroine, in cotton — or perhaps muslin. A servant steals silk drawers: surely no one needs silk drawers to flee. Set against those two days, the pink dahlia makes my chest tighten.
The film depicts the moment Marie's life begins to fall apart, so there is no splendor in it. I knew that from the start, and still, the ending was painful.
You may never wear a kimono. But you can wear the art of Wasai.
On ne porte pas forcément un kimono. Mais on peut porter l'art du Wasai.
— PASSIONEER
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