I went and saw the movie Les Femmes du 6eme etage or The Women on the 6th Floor last night. It is a beautiful story about Spanish maids in France in the 60's. Yes, there is a bit of a love story, but what makes the movie wonderful are the friendships that these women have. It also shows how inspiration comes in different places. The rich Monsieur and Madame learn about jeux de vivre from the poor maids and realize that there is something missing in their life.
The whole movie just felt comfortable. The language switched between French and Spanish and I could even follow bits of it. I noticed a couple of points where the translation did not translate quite right, or where words were dropped. There was a scene where the Monsieur is walking down the left bank of the Seine and he stops at a stall to look at books and I practically jumped out of my seat with delight. It was all so familiar. The house where the movie takes place looked just like the hotel I stayed in my first night in Paris. The rooms where the women live are in the attics and it was just like the room I had. The last scene of the movie takes place in Spain and the light of the film completely changes and it made me remember those days in the sun with the smell of lavender. In that moment I could not decide if I wanted to return to France or Spain more.
Then as the credits rolled I felt a sob well up in my throat and it took me completely by surprise. It took me a moment to even recognize the emotion. I missed the women in Iraq. The women in the film were so warm, open and welcoming. They opened their arms and hugged people who needed comfort and gave kisses on cheeks to people they just met. One of the maids was older and she reminded me so much of Baji Shamsa the way she would squeeze someone to her bosom and not let them go (even as they struggled for air). For just a moment I wanted that back. I wanted that free and easy feeling of camaraderie. I may just have to start kissing everyone on the cheeks. Granted here I can kiss the men as well as the women, while in Iraq I was not free to do so.
The whole movie just felt comfortable. The language switched between French and Spanish and I could even follow bits of it. I noticed a couple of points where the translation did not translate quite right, or where words were dropped. There was a scene where the Monsieur is walking down the left bank of the Seine and he stops at a stall to look at books and I practically jumped out of my seat with delight. It was all so familiar. The house where the movie takes place looked just like the hotel I stayed in my first night in Paris. The rooms where the women live are in the attics and it was just like the room I had. The last scene of the movie takes place in Spain and the light of the film completely changes and it made me remember those days in the sun with the smell of lavender. In that moment I could not decide if I wanted to return to France or Spain more.
Then as the credits rolled I felt a sob well up in my throat and it took me completely by surprise. It took me a moment to even recognize the emotion. I missed the women in Iraq. The women in the film were so warm, open and welcoming. They opened their arms and hugged people who needed comfort and gave kisses on cheeks to people they just met. One of the maids was older and she reminded me so much of Baji Shamsa the way she would squeeze someone to her bosom and not let them go (even as they struggled for air). For just a moment I wanted that back. I wanted that free and easy feeling of camaraderie. I may just have to start kissing everyone on the cheeks. Granted here I can kiss the men as well as the women, while in Iraq I was not free to do so.
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