By Louisa McDonald

After a succession of fleeting, unfulfilling love affairs, middle-aged artist divorcée Isabelle, portrayed by Juliette Binoche, sits opposite a psychic in a dimly lit room. The psychic tells her, amongst other things, that her budding relationship with a fellow artist will not last, but that this does not mean she ought to give up on finding love. In order to find the lasting love she seeks, it is imperative for Isabelle to remain ‘open’. In an otherwise completely French-speaking film, the psychic chooses to use the English word ‘open’, thus drawing attention to the importance of the arguably untranslatable meaning of the word; to be able to love another, one has to open oneself up and learn how to communicate sentiments which might otherwise remain private.

The importance of particular words in relation to the subject of love forms the basis of the book on which the 2017 film ‘Un Beau Soleil Intérieur’ (English Title: ‘Let the Sunshine in’) is loosely based, Roland Barthes’ Fragments d’un Discours Amoureux (Fragments of a Lover’s Discourse). Part non-linear narrative, part collection of philosophical meditations, the 1977 book is difficult to categorise; in an interview, Barthes suggested that the book be viewed as a “dictionary of feelings”[1] to which, in principle, anyone should be able to add. As the title suggests, the book is structured as a series of fragments, each of which starts with a particular word and goes on to explore the word’s connotations and meaning in the context of love. An example is when Barthes explores the concept of ‘Déréalite’ (literally: ‘de-reality’), a concept he takes care to distinguish from mere unreality; ‘déréalité’ implies a loss of reality that even imagination cannot compensate for, a phenomenon which, according to Barthes, is experienced by the lover as they are consumed by their passion.

Arguably, the most striking aspect of the book is its emphasis on language. Barthes talks not only of the shared language we rely on to communicate, but also of the private language we might usually keep to ourselves; part of what it is to be in love, according to Barthes, is to learn to open up this private language to another, thus welcoming them into our personal lives. Barthes talks of language as being “a skin […] it is as if I had words for fingers, or fingers at the end of my words”[2]. In order to become close to others, it seems, we must learn to move past the outer shell that language provides and become more open communicators.

Throughout Denis’ film, this idea of communication and language appears to be a motif. As Isabelle moves through various relationships, she often runs into difficulties communicating with her partners. For instance, when she takes up with a young actor, he fails to tell her that he has still not ended things with his wife, which causes a rupture in their relationship. Similarly, the class divide between her and a man she meets at a bar causes communication to break down between the two of them once an artist friend of Isabelle’s (who desires Isabelle himself) suggests that the two come from such different social and professional milieux that they are unlikely to be compatible as romantic partners in the long term. Interestingly, both Denis and Barthes suggest that an important part of becoming adept in the discourse of love is experiencing loneliness and being able to look inward; one can only express one’s unique perspective on love if one is sufficiently acquainted with oneself. Whilst Isabelle tends to view her loneliness as a negative emotion, it also clearly provides her with time to reflect and figure out her desires; furthermore, although her various love affairs form the focal point of her narrative, it is fundamentally Isabelle herself, rather than her lovers, that the viewer’s attention is focused on, as her independence and tenacity lead her to be perceived as an appealing character despite the flaws she may have.

In the Fragments, Barthes’ narrator should not necessarily be understood to be representative of the author himself; rather, it is intended as a universal voice, one which speaks for the experience of all lovers. In an interview, Barthes makes it clear that he believes the phenomenon of love to be a universal one, and that he expects the sentiments he describes in the book to be ones that everyone can relate to, regardless of gender or sexual orientation. In Denis’ film, whilst the figure of Isabelle is an individual in her own right, she can also be seen as a similarly representative figure of the lover; her experiences are ones which many people can relate to, and the advice given to her by the psychic about being ‘open’ is advice which the viewer is also invited to take on.

Of course, as a relatively wealthy woman living a sophisticated life in Paris, it could be argued that Binoche’s character is far from representative of the average lover; nonetheless, her character seems appropriate to the spirit of the book insofar as she reflects a kind of intellectual ideal of the lover who not only seeks connection with others, but also wishes to reflect deeply on this connection as a philosophical and artistic phenomenon. Throughout the film, the question she constantly asks herself is: is finding true love the purpose of my life, or is it merely one important aspect of it among others? Or is it even a distraction, something I ought not to pursue? Perhaps this moment of doubt is captured most pertinently when Isabelle talks to her friend about her encounter with the actor, revealing that while she was with him, she thought that her life was extraordinary, but upon returning home and reflecting upon the experience, she realised that “it was the opposite”. It is a moment that is at once deeply personal and unique to her character, but also one which conveys a feeling of profound ambiguity that almost everyone can relate to. The ‘beau soleil intérieur’ (beautiful sunshine within) of the title remains ambiguous, undefined even at the end when the psychic tells Isabelle that it is the thing she should be searching for; perhaps it is precisely its ambiguity which makes its image so compelling.

Of course, Isabelle cannot find the answer to the question of what love ought to mean to us any more than the rest of us can. But the closest thing she gets to an answer, like Barthes, is the imperative to stay ‘open’, to allow herself to connect to others and to learn to share the private language of her thoughts with the rest of the world.

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypLMHCFWZDM

[2] Barthes, Roland, ‘Fragments d’un Discours Amoureux’ (1977), p.87
Original : « Le langage est une peau […] c’est comme si j’avais des mots en guise de doigts, ou des doigts au bout de mes mots »

ST.ART does not own the rights to any images used in this article.