You can get the impression she found the philosophical genius to be at times a simple man and the angst ridden director to occasionally be joyous. But you really do not know, for the world is not privy to the private things that reside in the lives of those who have taken it to themselves to be muses as well as lovers.

But decades have passed since the most potent part of the story.  He died five years ago.  She is 73 and their daughter in her forties.  They were together for only five years and both had other loves, though it is their love that fascinates us who still care for existential drama.

It is easy to think she was his faith as he struggled with that thing, that she was the one who laughed and celebrated life as he sat quietly to think and delve into the recesses of human psychology.  She would protest such a thing, at least to an extent and she is right to do so.  She did know him better than those of us who admired his work.  On rocky and lonely Faro, she would hold his hand while we consumed his thoughts.

Very soon there will be a film to address this relationship.   Some have called it the work she always wanted to do and regardless of how well it is received some of us, though the number is very small, will make a point of seeing it.  I do not know if it will add anything new; she has always been very transparent about the relationship, but it will be the first film that addresses their relationship in a direct, rather than symbolic way.

How their characters play out will be interesting.  Even a documentary can arrange the facts in a way to say anything.  But we now get a full length biopic filmed as an interview from Faro interspersing her memories and their films.  One can hope that in addition to what it was like to tell stories of human anxiety   and produce great cinema, we can see the lives of two people replete with love and companionship and all the beauty and chaos that accompanies that thing.


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