Faces Places

Synopsis: Director Agnes Varda and photographer/muralist J.R. journey through rural France and form an unlikely friendship.
Genre: Documentary
Director(s): JR, Agnès Varda
Production: Cohen Media Group
  Nominated for 1 Oscar. Another 32 wins & 31 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.9
Metacritic:
95
Rotten Tomatoes:
99%
PG
Year:
2017
94 min
$900,903
Website
34 Views

1

FACES PLACES:

We didn't meet on a road.

We didn't meet at a bus stop.

I can't see.

When's the next one?

In 3 minutes.

That's too long.

I'll walk.

We didn't meet in a bakery.

Hello.

- 2 chocolate eclairs, please.

- I just sold them.

Too bad. Thanks anyway.

Goodbye sir.

- How much?

- 5 euros, please.

We didn't meet

on the dancefloor.

I remember images from your films.

Clo's face...

Mur Murs in Los Angeles...

Those giant murals

made such an impression on me.

I loved seeing

out the train window

the eyes you pasted on cisterns.

You wowed me at the Pantheon

with thousands of faces.

You photographed old women in Cuba,

and old men.

And that wrinkled couple

you pasted on the crackled city.

It's funny

we didn't cross paths sooner.

I made the first move.

I went to see her, Rue Daguerre.

Then she came to see me.

I introduced her to my team.

Emile, Guillaume, Etienne

and the rest.

The moment I arrived,

I wanted to take portraits of JR.

I soon realized he wouldn't

remove his glasses.

I thought of Jean-Luc Godard,

with his dark glasses

glued to his face.

Though one day,

he took them off for me

for a few moments.

That was a long time ago.

I was 33.

Now I'm the one who's 33.

And I'd say you've seen

about 88 springtimes.

Alright already, you know my age!

It'll be fun making a film together.

That's our starting point.

Say, you never work in a duo,

do you?

A giant leap forward!

When did people say that?

When Armstrong walked on the moon.

About our project...

I like the spontaneity of it.

But what'll we do?

Make images,

together but differently.

Go-time. You game?

You bet.

I'm always game

to go toward villages,

toward simple landscapes,

toward faces.

This is the truck

I take all over the world.

People go in the back,

like a photo booth.

In 5 seconds,

the photo comes out the side,

in large format.

As soon as we hit the road,

we made a stop.

Miss, would you care to inaugurate?

Inaugurate, please.

But perhaps you could

remove your glasses for the photo.

Let's see your pretty eyes.

I'll lend you my baguette.

We have several on hand.

Now then...

you sit here.

Make sure you're centered.

Perfect.

Hold the baguette between your teeth.

Nice and straight.

Ready... set... Perfect.

I closed my eyes.

- That's ok.

- Bonehead.

On the right, there.

They didn't do it, only me.

It's like a game.

In fact, JR is fulfilling

my greatest desire.

To meet new faces

and photograph them,

so they don't fall down the holes

in my memory.

We hit the road

whenever we could.

Here and there, in France.

We headed toward the North.

A vibrant region.

But in my mind,

I mainly had images

of black slagheaps.

And also

a collection of postcards

about miners

I'd held onto.

As for me,

I couldn't wait to go see

those 2 breast-shaped hills.

Drive down the brick-lined streets,

some of which are now deserted.

Meet people and get some ideas.

We heard about a row of miners' houses

slated for demolition.

There, we met Jeanine,

the last inhabitant on the street.

I'm the sole survivor

in these miners' houses.

I said I'd be the last to go,

and I'm still here.

Good for you.

They won't throw me out.

I have too many memories here.

I said, "You don't understand."

No one can understand

what we lived through.

JR and Guillaume put together

some old pictures of miners.

We decided to paste them

on the houses.

We always start with the feet,

so they're firmly on the ground.

This is beautiful to us.

I'll say this right now,

it's beautiful to me.

Back in 1956, I was going on 14.

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"Faces Places" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 19 Jun 2019. <https://www.scripts.com/script/faces_places_7924>.

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