Age and illness catches up with most of us, no matter how hard we run from it. The Jacques Nolot seen in this feature is very different from the strapping, debonair actor who populated French cinema during the 1980s. When I Have Already Died Three Times opens, it is to the sound of a cough, and a withered man trying to set himself up for the day ahead. The rest of the feature follows him on this journey.
Rich in tiny detail, Maxence Vassilyevitch’s documentary follows the mighty talent in the most intimate of spaces: his own home. Squashed between chairs, tables and cutlery, the mighty actor looks positively diminutive by contrast. Vassilyevitch is keen to emphasis the little details in life, pivoting from cigarette fumes to the tap water ringing and running in the backdrop. Another director might cut away sooner, but it’s important for the psychology of the movie to showcase how the hum-drum of life can entertain someone bereft of pleasure. Nolot ruminates to himself what a life post incarceration might entail: “because when you get out of prison, what else is there to do?”
Long, lingering shots are based on the pills that festoon his table, the medicine that purports to give him more life being the very addictions that make it less pleasurable. The world pictured here is one rife with irony and hidden poetry, a comical undertone cascading between the walls. Like many French pieces of writing, the director asks what it is that supports humanity, and what differs from how this offends them.
Philosophising about the actors he trode the boards with, Nolot comes to an unpleasant conclusion: “many of them are dead now“. This enforces the reality once again to the audience that the impermanence of life is its only saving grace. A life isn’t counted on years, but impact. No matter how silent his surroundings, Nolot is privy to a great becoming: self-realisation.
There’s something enchantingly diaristic about I Have Already Died Three Times, exploring a creative at his most vulnerable and fragile point of life. The slow camera setups showcase a person at his most carefree and cautious. Nolot is aware of the predicament. This is a man only feet away from a permanent demise, devouring through whole plates of meat, supported by red wine. When he delivers monologues about his chums, it’s not to entertain the viewers at home; it’s to wrap himself in the comfort of memories.
Entertaining himself further through his writings, the protagonist expresses himself truthfully through anecdote and angular, idiosyncratic modes of expression. Amazed at the accuracy, Nolot allows his personal writings to double as a memoirs of sorts. In another blinding moment of expression, the character hides in the dark, away from the prying eyes of the camera; a vehicle his way of escaping the realm of filming.
Documentaries hinge on the power of the characters they are based on, depending on the fluidity and honesty of the people on the big screen. By that measurement, I Have Already Died Three Times is a triumph of humanity. Sincerity is painted into every frame. Details and debris show how much time has past, casting a mighty titan into the vicinity of elderly entertainer. Then there’s the insights age has provided the lead, gifting his personal views for the audience to shoulder and share.
I Have Already Died Three Times streams for free during the entire month of December as part of ArteKino – just click here now for more information.
