In the early 1960s, a film emerged from the cinematic fog like an ethereal dream: “Last Year at Marienbad.” Directed by Alain Resnais and written by Alain Robbe-Grillet, this film quickly became a monument of cinematic art, where every image, every silence, every dialogue seemed suspended in its own temporality.

Set in a sumptuous baroque hotel, the film narrates an ambiguous and fascinating story where reality and memory intertwine until they become indistinguishable. The male character, played by Giorgio Albertazzi, tries to convince a woman, portrayed by Delphine Seyrig, that they had an affair the previous year in the same place. The woman, on the other hand, seems oscillating between floating memories and skepticism. The viewer is thus invited to a hypnotic dance, where the boundaries between dream and reality gently dissolve.

“Silent rooms where the footsteps of those advancing are absorbed by carpets so beautiful, so thick, that no sound of steps reaches their own ears, as if the ear itself of the one advancing once more along this corridor, through these salons, these galleries, in this construction from another century, this immense, luxurious, baroque, lugubrious hotel where endless corridors succeed corridors, silent, deserted, overloaded by the dark cold bodies of the paneling, stucco, molded panels, marble, black mirrors, paintings in black tones, columns, sculpted doorframes, enfilades of doors, galleries, transverse corridors which in turn lead to deserted salons, salons overloaded with ornamentation from another century. Silent rooms where the footsteps of those advancing…”

I remember my first encounter with “Last Year at Marienbad,” that moment when, enveloped by the enchanting atmosphere, I was transported into this dreamlike universe. Each shot seemed meticulously composed, each dialogue whispered like a lost confidence. The play of light and shadow, the infinite corridors of the hotel, all contributed to creating a visual and auditory symphony.

It is said that Resnais, a perfectionist to the core, spent hours adjusting the smallest details of the scenes. One day, he reportedly made a scene be redone more than twenty times, dissatisfied with the way a simple door closed. The actors, though sometimes exhausted by this relentless quest for perfection, were captivated by the director’s artistic vision.

Delphine Seyrig, a true icon of elegance, brought an innate grace to her character. It is said that she personally chose part of her wardrobe, working closely with the costume designer to ensure that each outfit reflected the mysterious aura of her character. A famous anecdote recounts that during a dance scene, Seyrig, donning an exquisitely delicate dress, exclaimed that the dance itself became an extension of her costume, each movement highlighting the pleats and fabrics.

The enigma of the film also lies in its settings. The French gardens, with their straight alleys and immobile statues, contribute to the impression of a temporal labyrinth. The gardens of Nymphenburg Palace and those of Schleissheim in Germany, where some scenes were filmed, add an almost surreal dimension to the film. The statues, silent spectators, seem themselves frozen in time, like guardians of a buried secret.

Thus, “Last Year at Marienbad” remains a timeless masterpiece, a poetic exploration of the meanders of memory and desire. Each viewing is an invitation to lose oneself in a labyrinth of memories and emotions, to rediscover the subtle nuances and hidden symbols that enrich this work. Leaving the screen, heart imbued with this visual melody, one carries away a piece of this elusive magic, an ephemeral light that illuminates our own memories.