Forêt Ivre

FORÊT IVRE’s subtitle is “three stories”, and that’s not inaccurate. Three stories do indeed follow, one after the other, each its own unit that unfolds in the same isolated wooden hut up in the northern Alps, between the forest, the peaks of exposed rock and the cross further up the slope. Their three protagonists are women, each at a different stage in life, they all have the same job but in different seasons, taking care of the hut and those that stay in it, in rain, in snow, in sun. Hélène reads out her poems to a group of female hikers. Anne connects with an ornithologist in search of a capercaillie. Suzanne prepares food for a soldier wondering whether to desert. But are these really stories at all, so firmly embedded as they are in the daily chores, the coming and goings of the tourists, the shifts in light across the mountain? All we learn about them is what they volunteer to others; progression and resolution are barely there. Maybe it’s just one story after all, the story of a place constantly changing but always the same, or two stories intertwined, the silent, impassive fusion of a place with the women that seek it out, different articulations of the same essential longing. How often has solitude been a female pursuit? All this time alone is beautiful. (James Lattimer)

Manon Coubia: SONATE BLANCHE (2007, K), BLEU CERISE (2012, K), L’IMMENSE RETOUR (ROMANCE) (2016, K), LES ENFANTS PARTENT À L’AUBE (2017, K), MARÉE (2019), PLEINE NUIT (2023, K)