Demain et tous les autres jours
Like a bedtime story. Meant to keep the shadows away and to welcome the coming night while waiting confidently for tomorrow. And after tomorrow, all the following days. Only this time it is a young girl, her gaze clear and courageous, who sits and reads the story to her mother.
Let’s not be fooled by appearances: it may seem as light as the flight of an owl, but Demain et tous les autres jours tackles something extremely vital, something that lies at the very heart of our lives. Today as in the past. Namely the fear of being left alone, conscious as we are that in the end we are and always have been alone. Behind the happier scenes there is the predator of the night, the owl voiced by Denis Podalydès, or the skeleton in the cupboard of the school laboratory, kidnapped so it can finally be given a decent burial. Noémie Lvovsky’s splendid film depicts the solitude of its characters with gestures and actions that come across as so many gentle, sweet caresses.
Leaving the brutality of the world outside the door but without ever resorting to rose-tinted spectacles, Demain et tous les autres jours tells us that the cinema can still be the art that shows us we live in a world richer in stories and characters than we generally think. How divided they may be, this is the credo of the films’ characters, the extraordinary family played by the director herself, by Mathieu Amalric and by Luce Rodriguez, a young girl we are sure to be seeing more of in the future. They are the narrators and the main characters of this tale that comes close to the poetry of Miyazaki, suggesting a different way of looking at things, the only one that enables acceptance of traumas, leave-takings and separations that must happen along the way in our lives.