Super Agent Higgs, Super Agent Higgs Games, Play Super Agent Higgs Games
Super Agent Higgs Get out! Right now! I’m telling you! Marie is At the beginning of the film, she’s a little girl game and at the end, she’s still a little girl. She’s someone who’ll never grow up, who’ll never be capable of making a choice game or acting out of careful consideration. She acts completely out of instinct. She gets pushed around. She’s either submitting to her father or to Gérard. In my opinion, she’s doomed from the start due to her total passivity. Does she submit to Gérard or does she choose him? I think she submits to him. I think. But she gives her consent in the car scene. She gives her consent from the start, I think. From their first meeting. So, in a way she chooses him. For Gérard, Marie is from a different world than the one he knows. He doesn’t quite understand her in fact, not at all. But he desires her in order, I think, to destroy her. He desires her because she’s relatively pure and fresh, and he’d really like to be able to destroy that, because I think it’s something he finds unbearable. He’s not touched by her. No, because I don’t think he’s sensitive enough to be touched by her. He’s too dumb. I don’t think either one loves the other. It’s love that finds its niche, but it’s sensual love. The scene is about sensuality. I won’t say “eroticism,” because the term’s been overused to the point of becoming meaningless. To me, the scene is more about sensuality than love. It’s spring, birds are singing. It’s only by chance responsible for so much in our lives that this young man is at her side and causes something to stir in her. Sensual love is born at that moment. Maybe she believes this love is specifically for Gérard, but it could easily be for someone else. Was that scene written in detail in the script, or was it improvised in filming? No, it was on paper, but there’s a world of difference between writing it and filming it. To me, the most important part of a film is its rhythm. Everything is expressed by the rhythm. Without rhythm, there’s nothing. There’s nothing without form either, but there’s nothing without rhythm.