|
|
| |
|
|
UNE HISTOIRE D’AMOUR
(BARCLAY)
|
|
|
|
|
|
Those who remember Anna Karina only as Jean-Luc Godard’s wife, his muse, and an actress in some of his best work may be surprised to find that she’s done a lot of singing in her movies — the only Godard films she sings in are Une femme est une femme and Pierrot le fou. A CD of songs from her movies is scheduled for next month. Une histoire d’amour, which was released in France in 2000, is an album of contemporary songs mostly by Philippe Katerine; Karina wrote the words for "Petite Lola" and, with Katerine, "Qu’est-ce que je peux faire." The backing includes various combinations of guitar, piano, violin, cello, bass, trumpet, trombone, Fender Rhodes, harmonica, and percussion. Katerine duets with her on four numbers (including the unlisted bonus song, from Pierrot, Serge Rezvani’s "Ma ligne de chance," which turns up about two minutes after "Qu’est-ce que je peux faire"); she does better without him. Although titles like "Amoureuse," "Aimons l’amour," "La douceur de vivre," and "Jamais je ne t’ai dit que je t’aimerais toujours" (this last the other Rezvani Pierrot number) are self-explanatory, it’s too bad the skimpy liner leaflet doesn’t include the words or any information about Karina. But when she sings, in that smoky-sweet voice that’s redolent of chestnut trees, autumn in Paris, and (just a little) Piaf, you don’t need a lyric sheet. "Les histoires d’amour ne finissent jamais," she tells us; her ode to her native city begins, "Un amour impossible . . . Copenhague." And in "Anne Karine," she asks, "Souviens-toi de moi, Anne Karine." She may not have the greatest vocal cords, but she sings with the authority and the intelligence and the passion of a woman who acted — well — in some of the 20th century’s greatest films. Little chance of forgetting this lady.
|
