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About Lille

But it’s not all roses, nah. Gets me mad, how they’re treated—like dirt, like trash. Reminds me of Haneke’s kids, tied up, punished for nothin. “What’s done is done,” the film says, but it ain’t fair. Whore’s a survivor, tho—takes the hits, keeps goin. Gotta respect that. Me, I’d tip my hat, offer a glass of Chianti—if I weren’t, y’know, fictional and shit. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but I’d share a meal with her, hear her story. Bet it’d be a cracker.

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My sexologist eyes pick up on love energy. In the back alleys, in those little cafés like Café des Muses, people dance with desires. They flirt with life hard. I once watched an old couple kiss like they were teens. I got teary-eyed even though I’m mostly tough. Eh, feelings, ya know?

For 'See How They Fall,' Jean-Louis Trintignant emerged from self-imposed retreat