I still vividly remember the day I watched the mesmerizing French movie “A Man and a Woman” for the first time as a college student in the mid-1960s. The movie is about a young widow and a widower who fall in love after meeting by chance at their children’s boarding school. But because of the beautiful memories of their deceased spouses, their relationship cannot progress. Anne, a movie scriptwriter, cannot forget her beloved stuntman husband who was accidentally killed on a movie set as she watched. Meanwhile, Jean-Louis, a racecar driver, is also haunted by the memory of his wife, Valerie, who committed suicide after Jean-Louis’s near-fatal racing accident. In the end, however, the man and the woman are able to overcome their burdensome pasts and begin a new relationship. 

The movie was absolutely stunning and enchanting in every sense. Renowned director Claude Lelouch masterfully mixes full-color and sepia scenes to perfectly express the melancholy and loneliness of the protagonists. There are other memorable elements in the movie: the soft, whispering voice of Anne who tells a fairytale to her daughter; the scene of a lonesome old man walking a black dog on the beach; Pierre Barouh’s sweet Latin songs; the irreparable psychic wounds of Antoine that he hides behind his shades; and the unforgettable, mellifluous music score by Francis Lai.

Even today, I still remember the memorable scene of Antoine driving in the rain to the Paris train station to see Anne. While the windshield wipers of his car rhythmically moved from left to right, Francis Lai’s rhythmical melody of “dabba dabba da, dabba dabba da” tapped the ears of the viewers in the theater like the pattering of raindrops. At that time, I was a college student without a girlfriend, so I was too young to fully understand the complex pain and memories of the widow and widower. Nevertheless, I was so deeply moved by the riveting movie that it instantly became a favorite. Through the movie, I was able to discover the profound meanings of love, life and the arts.

Nearly 50 years have passed and yet, the story of Anne and Antoine, who successfully overcome their differences and unite in love, still fascinates me. We all grew up under different circumstances; different hometowns, schools, families and political ideologies. In order to fall in love with someone, therefore, we must try to overcome the differences. If we cling to the past, we will never be able to understand or love other people due to vast, irreducible differences.

Recently in Korea, a young man brutally murdered a young woman simply because they had a disagreement over politics. According to newspaper reports, the two met on the Internet and developed a deep friendship through chatting online. However, after the last presidential election, the man, frustrated by the loss of the opposition party he supported, began posting radical leftist opinions on social networking sites. The woman, who must have been somewhat conservative, began objecting to his posts. The two argued vehemently. Finally, the man, who is from a southwestern province, traveled all the way to the woman’s hometown, which is located in a southeastern province, and killed her in cold blood. They had never met in person before the fateful day of the murder.

In the movie “A Man and a Woman,” Anne and Antoine, too, do not understand each other’s feelings initially, since they have lived in totally different worlds, loving different people. When they check into a countryside motel, therefore, they find they cannot make love, as Anne is not free from her past memories. Anne decides to leave Antoine and go back to Paris, and Antoine drops her off at the train station and drives back home alone. Driving in the rain, Antoine realizes how much he loves Anne, and drives to the Paris train station to reunite with her. As the train arrives in Paris, Anne gets off the train and finds Antoine anxiously waiting for her. Overcoming their pasts, the two embrace.

What did the Korean man have in mind while traveling to the woman’s hometown? One can only presume that he was busily premeditating murder during the whole travel time. Instead of tolerance and forgiveness, he must have had only hatred on his mind. But what happened to their friendship and their happy days of chatting before they began arguing and insulting each other due to their ideological differences? Did it ever occur to him that he could have discussed his views with her in person, instead of mercilessly killing her? Where were his understanding, generosity and humanity?

While recalling “A Man and a Woman” and comparing it to this gruesome Korean version, I despair at the vast, stormy sea we still need to cross in order to reach the comforting shore where we all can fall in love despite regional, cultural and ideological differences. Surely we will see dry ground in the not too distant future. At least, I hope so. 

By Kim Seong-kon

Kim Seong-kon is a professor of English at Seoul National University and president of the Literature Translation Institute of Korea. He can be reached at sukim@snu.ac.kr. ― Ed.