Non. Non. I did not vawnt to face fawcts about my poster. But, oui, I must face the fawcts today. My romantic kissing shot was indeed, set up.
It's ok, though! Oui. Oui. Thanks to a comment here at blue girl by JR, (thank you JR) the story is much too doux et romantique not to share.
From Smithsonian Magazine:
For photographer Robert Doisneau, finding an openly affectionate couple in the City of Light was as easy as falling in love
In 1950, photographer Robert Doisneau got an assignment from Life
to shoot for one of those sentimental stories the weekly magazine was
wont to run in those days. Armed with his trusty Rolleiflex, Doisneau,
who was already celebrated for his intimate portrayals of life on the
City of Light's back streets, strolled over to the seventh arrondissement
and took a seat at Le Villars, a sidewalk café across the street from
René Simon's acting school and just a few minutes' walk from the Rodin
Museum, where the world's most famous marble kiss still holds pride of
place. Presently he saw what he knew he must see sooner or later: a
young couple kissing in public, as they always did in Paris, and,
indeed, still do today.
Doisneau approached the couple, Françoise Delbart, 20, and Jacques
Carteaud, 23, who were both aspiring actors. "He told us we were
charming, and asked if we could [kiss] again for the camera," Françoise
recalls today. "We didn't mind. We were used to kissing. We were doing
it all the time then—it was delicious. And Monsieur Doisneau was
adorable, very low key, very relaxed.
"Monsieur Doisneau took us to three different places for the
picture," Françoise recalls. "We walked, of course. It was a lark, a
wonderful, carefree moment for us. All we had to do was stand about 15
feet from him and kiss. First he took some pictures on the Place de la
Concorde, then on the Rue de Rivoli, and finally the Hôtel de Ville."
It was at the Hôtel de Ville that Doisneau got it right: in the
foreground, an anonymous customer seated at a sidewalk café; on the
sidewalk, an equally anonymous crowd, but a passing gent is wearing a
beret—parfait! On the street, a couple of Citroën Traction Avant
cars, as archetypically French as a movie starring Jean Gabin. In the
background looms the pastry cook's bulk of the city hall. And,
gloriously center stage, as every actor yearns to be, Delbart and
Carteaud.
Called Le Baiser de l'Hôtel de Ville, the photograph was published in the June 12, 1950, issue of Life. It would become one of the most recognized in the world, endlessly reproduced on postcards and posters all over the planet.
Less than a year after it was taken, Delbart and Carteaud broke up.
Delbart appeared in several moderately successful movies (including Les Grandes Familles)
but never became a star. At age 33, she met and married "the man of my
life"—Alain Bornet, a documentary and promotional filmmaker—and gave up
acting to help with the business. The couple had no children. Carteaud
abandoned acting entirely and became a winegrower in the South of
France. He died last year.
Robert Doisneau continued as a freelance photographer, associated
with the Parisian photo agency Rapho until his death in 1994, two weeks
shy of his 82nd birthday. No picture he ever shot received as much
attention—or controversy—as his famous kiss. A reproduction of the
photograph on the cover of the French magazine Telerama in July
1988 brought forward several women claiming to be the object of
Carteaud's affection. Only Françoise Bornet, though, was able to
produce the original print that Doisneau had sent her and which bore
his stamp on the back. The photographer authenticated both it and her.
A second controversy arose when Françoise revealed that what had looked
for all the world like a spontaneous snapshot had in fact been set up.
Last April, Bornet put the photograph up for auction at the
Artcurial Art Gallery on the Champs-Elysées; she expected to get about
$25,000 for it, but to the cheers, laughter and applause of Artcurial's
normally restrained habitués, the bidding crested at 155,000 Euros—more
than $200,000, depending on the exchange rate. "This romantic picture
is the mirror of our youth for my wife and myself," said the anonymous
Swiss collector who phoned in the winning bid. Madame Bornet is now
planning to use the windfall to set up a film production company with
her husband. As for whether this romantic picture was staged, she
offers a classically Gallic answer: it was, she says, "the posed
picture that wasn't a pose because we were kissing spontaneously."
by Rudolph Chelminski
***
Ahh, oui, oui. The romantic picture is also a mirror of my youth and see the last sentence there? They were kissing spontaneously!
Jusqu'à ce que nous nous réunissions encore -- des baisers.
Recent Comments