Perhaps it's difficult to succinctly explain why we love Eric Rohmer's films and why certain scenes from his films linger in our minds: the convergence of gazes in black and white frames, a hand brushing against a knee, a girl's slipping shoulder strap, matching blue and green couple shirts, museum paintings, resurrected statues, a necklace lost and found, a short-haired girl by the seaside, or the green light after sunset.
Beyond creating a certain "French aesthetic" in these images, what impresses us most is the inexplicable complexity within these scenes. It could be subtle interpersonal relationships, underlying emotions borne alone, or moral choices looming ahead unbeknownst to the characters. Rohmer effortlessly transforms these elements into light yet powerful cinematic moments, continuously showcasing the allure of everyday life in his films.

Je Cherche…
Reflecting on the French word "chercher," meaning "to search," one might associate it with the back-and-forth journeys between Paris and various vacation spots in "The Green Ray" with its repetitive shape and swirling pronunciation. The frequency of this word in conversations between Delphine and her friends throughout the film almost encapsulates its entire essence: "The Green Ray" is a movie about searching and waiting, with the outcome occupying only a small portion of its duration.
How does Delphine, a Parisian girl fresh out of a relationship, spend her seemingly endless summer days? She wanders around but never quite integrates into crowds or casually enjoys companionship. If Rohmer were to base a film on your diary, it would likely be similar: he's more interested in the "boring times" before the "big moments" — even a chance encounter with a green playing card on the road gets a generous close-up. Perhaps it's through these mystical everyday omens - green objects, casual conversations about Verne and the green ray legend, a souvenir shop sign reading "Green Ray" - that we, along with Delphine, welcome the radiant ending of the film.

Like other films we adore from Rohmer, "The Green Ray" lacks any identifiable dramatic design; it appears to simply exist within its own narrative. Notably, the cast list mentions "Text and inspiration from collaboration with Marie Rivière" - indeed, Marie is Delphine. Marie first appeared in Rohmer's "Perceval le Gallois" and became familiar to French audiences starting with “The Aviator's Wife”. Their long collaboration and numerous conversations prior to creative sessions allowed Rohmer to discover Marie's nuanced yet easily melancholic inner self, to the extent that he maximally allowed Marie's real-life experiences to seep into the film. An interesting detail is that the book Delphine reads at the station, Dostoevsky's "The Idiot," was borrowed from Rohmer himself, subtly incorporated into the film.

Unlike his previous "Comedies and Proverbs" series where lengthy dialogues were scripted and actors were required to memorize them - though these texts might have originated from casual pre-shooting chats between him and the actors - in creating "The Green Ray," Rohmer often merely sets up situations for the creative inspiration he desires and allows Marie to improvise within them. "People criticize me for writing sentences that are too long. But in real life, people can talk endlessly! I want to prove to them that if you compare my written lines with improvised speeches, no one can tell the difference."
Thus, we hear discussions about meat and vegetarianism, whispers and confessions of inner loneliness from Delphine (or Marie - who knows?), moments of solitude intensified by lack of understanding, where the camera subtly pulls back, waiting for Delphine to speak again after a pause. Rohmer patiently waits for Delphine's hesitations, allowing this delicate mood to fully unfold before us.

Surprisingly, the production team of "The Green Ray" comprised only four or five people, with females occupying roles such as producer, cinematographer, and sound recordist. Rohmer chose this setup to allow Marie more freedom during filming. However, starting from the groundbreaking "The Aviator's Wife", Rohmer's filmmaking approach returned to the ethos of the New Wave era he admired, where the camera was taken to the streets, employing small crews and lightweight equipment to capture authenticity. Especially after the studio-heavy productions of "Perceval le Gallois" and "The Marquise of O" , "The Green Ray" exemplified an extreme - it might be hard to imagine, but some audience members actually protested after recognizing themselves in the film's background. Rohmer commented, “People praise the New Wave movement of the 60s (I'm glad to have been a part of it) because it took films to the streets... not just the facades of streets, sidewalks, buildings, and shop windows, but also real crowds injecting life into them.”

Perhaps the allure of the "Comedies and Proverbs" series lies herein, a French cinema seemingly born with this tradition: curiosity and concern for the individual's state of existence, closeness and rubbing against urban spaces. The boundaries between actor and character blur further, and the ensuing realism is astonishing. Rohmer's films always open up to everyone and welcome us to incorporate our experiences into the viewing process, and this seemingly loose arrangement of situations in "The Green Ray" emphasizes this.
Oui! Miracle!
For such a small production team, capturing the breathtaking light at the end of the film required quite an effort. However, Rohmer, who always advocated frugal filmmaking in the "Comedies and Proverbs" series (once attempting to simulate a boxing match by moving a pair of cutlery back and forth), was willing to go to great lengths to capture the green ray, perhaps proving that everyday miracles indeed affirm the sentiments Godard expressed to Rohmer after watching the film: “... 'The Green Ray' is full of youthful vigor and great charm, with humanity and the universe reflecting each other, facing belief in both, pale language is unable to express my emotions.”

We can also see Rohmer's trust in everyday miracles in "A Winter's Tale" - statues can come to life, and loved ones can reunite. And finally, Delphine, who's always in search, finds what she's been looking for. Following her gaze, we witness together the fulfilling conclusion of "The Green Ray" - this is Rohmer's tenderness, but more so his attitude towards the characters in his films. Throughout the film, Delphine hesitates, probes, and quickly withdraws when things don't suit her, yet Rohmer never attempts to make choices for her - perhaps this is how "The Green Ray" showcases Rohmer's morality, where we sense a respect for the characters.

Each film in the "Comedies and Proverbs" series is accompanied by a meaningful epigraph, and at the beginning of "The Green Ray," Rohmer sends his blessing to Delphine with the words: "May the moment of mutual hearts arrive!" It's a story of love that needs no commentary, a tale without a beginning or an end, as Roger Ebert described it. All it requires is for it to unfold.
The world took some time to fully embrace Rohmer's films, and it wasn't until the 1980s that he was widely recognized as one of the greatest filmmakers in cinema history. From then till today, perhaps it's in our current era, where people need to reassess their own moral and value judgments, that Rohmer's films, once criticized as "merely mundane daily life," truly showcase their worth.

Rohmer presents the genuine dilemmas of modern individuals: How should we live? What moral standards should we follow? What should we believe in? What should we grasp onto? And sometimes, Rohmer infuses his own reflections and moral judgments into his films, if we carefully discern the attitude he conveys behind those elegant tones. From this perspective, each of Rohmer's films should be regarded as a fable-like moral tale.
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