Of all the characters I have seen in all the films I have viewed [lots and lots and lots] Stephane comes closest to capturing the manner in which I view myself “out in the world”. In other words, he is a relatively innocuous sociopath. Which is to say he does not feel as others seem to; but he is able to blend in as though he does. But his is also the same heart in Spring, Summer and Fall. I don’t know the extent to which one is “born this way”. I have always felt this way. And later in life, as I became more and more familiar with human identity as dasein, this frame of mind became all the more entrenched.
Here is the scene that captures this best:
youtube.com/watch?v=oJzPd1WeTOk
I don’t see him as resentful of Maxime [or others]. Okay, maybe a little. Or, yeah, sure, sometimes, alot. Mostly though I see him as unable to be other than what he is. His congenital predisposition perhaps. Or maybe I simply project the manner in which I see myself into this character on the screen. It is so rare that I see myself in others cinematically. And never at all “in reality”.
IMDb
Emmanuelle Béart actually learned how to play the violin for the part.
wiki
An important part of the film is the use of chamber music by Maurice Ravel, played by Jean-Jacques Kantorow (violin), Jacques Rouvier (piano) and Philippe Muller (cello). New Zealand musician Jeffrey Grice appears in the film in the role of the pianist.
The music is superb. Excerpt. Sort of.
youtube.com/watch?v=20CxzzwBMs4
A HEART IN WINTER [Un Coeur en Hiver] 1992
Written and directed by Claude Sautet
[b]Stephane [voiceover]: Maxime and I have known each other so long, we didn’t need words. We work together but he is the boss.
…
Stephane [voiceover]: Maxime needs to expend himself. He is at one with his body. He so loves to win that losing for me becomes a pleasure. Life hangs lightly on him.
…
Stephane [voiceover]: Maxime never asks where I go or who I see when we aren’t together. Which is fine by me.
…
Stephane [at Helene’s bookstore]: It’s odd that in three-quarters of these books, when thay talk about love, whether it’s an airport novel, a masterpiece or a cook book it’s the same vocabulary. Overflowing.
Helene: And you find that obscene?
Stephane: No. As written it is often beautiful.[/b]
Then the classic discussion about Art and the masses:
[b]Daniel: What upsets me, as I wrote in my last book, is that on the pretext that it’s all culture some rate a pop video alongside a Claudel play, a Piero Della Francesca or the Ravel sonata our friend is playing. The confusion is unprecedented. It’s all lumped together, pell-mell.
Regine: People can still choose.
Daniel: Yes, but with everything meriting equal attention concensus of opinion becomes a wooly horror. I believe in a certain mental vigilance. Is that pompous?
Lachaume: No. We’re listening. It’s the voice of tradition.
Daniel: Tradition! So I’m a reactionary.
Lachaume: No, you speak for an anxious elite in a world threatened by democratic excess.
Daniel: I’ve fought elitism all my life.
Camille: There’s confusion, I agree. If culture is still a privilege it isn’t reserved for quite so few.
Daniel: It’s worse, all these clueless clodhoppers in the museums.
Camille: Yes, but if in this museum a clodhopper’s life is changed by a work of art, isn’t that something?
Stephane [to Camille]: You almost agree. For you, too, there’s the sensitive individual in the blind masses.
Camille: I didn’t say that.
Maxime: No, you said there’s a natural selection of people destined…
Camille: No not at all.
Maxime: You said some see things that others don’t.
Stephane: Yes. That’s what you said.
Camille: Yes. I mean, no. But…I exclude no one.
…
Lachaume: And you? You have no opinion?
Stephane: No.
Camille: None?
Lachaume: He’s above the debate.
Stephane: I hear contradictory arguments, all valid.[/b]
Bingo. But:
[b]Camille: We all cancel each other out, we can’t talk about anything anymore?
Stephane: A tempting prospect, I guess. I don’t have your goodwill.
Lachaume: We respect your silence.
Camille: In speaking, one risks sounding stupid. Not speaking you may appear intelligent.
…
Regine: I’d never met Stephane socially. He’s so disagreeable.
Maxime: You have to know him. It’s all a game he’s playing.
…
Helene: You establish a real intimacy.
Stephane: It was she who came to me.
Helene: But it’s what you were waiting for.
Stephane: Let’s say, what I hoped for.
Helene: Are you in love with her?
Stephane: In love?
Helene: I know you bristle at the word.
Stephane: No, it disorients me. Let me think. No, I don’t think I am. No.
Helene: Anyway, it’s Maxime she loves.
Stephane: Yes. At one point though I did get the impression she would rather be having dinner with me than with him.
…
Camille: He said he was coming, but he didn’t. He seemed put out when I called.
Regine: But you told him to stay away.
Camille: I’m not talking about Maxime. I’m talking about Stephane. I don’t vunderstand. When he’s there, he’s there. Then suddenly it’s as if I didn’t exist.
…
Camille: You might have sruples about seeing me because he is your friend.
Stephane: There’s no friendship between us.
Camille: No friendship?
Stephane: No. We’ve been partners for years. We complement each other.
Camille: He thinks of you as a friend.
Stephane: I can’t prevent that.
Camille: I don’t believe you.
Stephane: Why? Because it’s not something one admits? But it’s true. Are you shocked?
Camille: No. Saddened.
Stephane: Misusing words is sad.
Camille: You devalue them and everything else…You aren’t like that. Nobody is. It doesn’t happen. It’s a pose.
Stephane: What do you want? Do you want me to invent reasons, traumas? Unhappy childhood, sexual frustration, career nipped in the bud?
…
Camille: You act as though emotions don’t exist. Yet you love music.
Stephane: Music is the stuff of dreams.
…
Camille: I’m feeling low, Maxime. I don’t feel good about myself. And not because of the sonatas.
Maxime: Stephane…
…
Camille: It’s like…a pressure.
…
Camille: It was you I played for…I spoke to Maxime. About us. It was hard. He heard me out. I told him what’s happened. I want you. It’s not like me but I had to tell you.
Stephane: Camille…I don’t think I can give you what you are looking for.
Camille: You want it to. I know you and accept you as your are. I don’t mind about this close world you built around yourself long ago. I’m here for you. Look at me…You can’t go on living like that. You must see that you’re changing.
Stephane: Camille…You’re beautiful. You’re going to be a great musician. You have almost a surfeit of gifts…But you’re fooling yourself. You insist on seeing me as you imagine me…as someone else. But I’m not that person.
Camille: Don’t deceive yourself. It’s so simple.
Stephan: I must tell you the truth. I’d decided to seduce you, without loving you…probably to get at Maxime…You don’t understand Camille. You talk of feelings which don’t exist…to which I have no access. I don’t love you. [pause] You know…
Camille: Don’t talk, please. Don’t look at me.
…
Camille [later, in a restaurant]: We can’t leave it like this. I can’t accept it. Say something.
Stephane: Camille, I told you the truth.
Camille: You know you didn’t. At the studio that day it rained, I didn’t imagine your attentiveness.
Stephane: That’s my job.
Camille: Don’t tell me I was just like some musician on TV.
Stephane: No. Certainly not.
Camille: Your way of looking at me…
Stephane: I was sincere.
Camille: Everything we said to each other.
Stephane: But we didn’t say anything.
Camille: Oh, but we did. Or was it I who…No, it’s not possible. It’s not…possible. But why?
Stephane: I told you why.
…
Camille: But if it was just to get at Maxime, you should have fucked me. Sordid, but at least it’s life.
…
Camille: Ah, it seems he loves music because it’s the stuff of dreams and has nothing to do with life. You know nothing of dreams. You have no imagination, no heart, no balls![/b]
What does it mean to “have” things like this? Are there switches your brain you can turn on like there on the wall for lamps?
Lachaume: What did you have in mind? Disrupting things. The pleasure of demystification? But one can’t demystify feelings.
No more than Lachaume [very ill] cannot not die.
[b]Maxime: I went to see Lachsaume. He’s not well. He’s suffering. Doesn’t talk anymore. He wants to die.
…
Amet [to Stephane regarding Lachaume’s wish to die]: He’s been asking for three days. But I can’t. I can’t.[/b]
So, Stephane does it.