Valse éternelle: A Faded Dance You Might Just Fall For 🕰️

Alright, let’s talk about Valse éternelle. Is it worth tracking down today? Well, that depends *entirely* on what you’re looking for. If you like old films, the kind that take their sweet time, and you’re into sweeping, slightly tragic romances, then absolutely, give it a go. But if you need quick cuts, snappy dialogue, or anything resembling modern pacing, you will probably be bored stiff. Like, really, truly bored. You’ve been warned. 🤷‍♀️

The film just *feels* old, in the best possible way sometimes, and in a way that makes you check your watch a few times, other times. It’s got that specific kind of 1930s melodrama where every glance feels heavy, and every sigh could be a speech. I mean, they really committed to the mood.

The Pacing of a Waltz

The title isn't lying; the whole movie moves like a waltz. It circles around its central idea, sometimes gracefully, sometimes a little plodding. There's this one scene, maybe two-thirds in, where Jean Servais and Vera Baranovskaya are just sitting, looking out a window. No dialogue, just the sound of a distant piano, and it goes on for what feels like an eternity. It's supposed to be poignant, I think. And it *is*, a little. But also, part of me was like, "Okay, what's for dinner?" 🍜

But then, there are moments where it clicks. Like when Vera Baranovskaya, her character always seems to have this quiet sorrow behind her eyes, finally smiles. It's a small thing, barely there, but it lights up the whole frame. You feel it. That’s the kind of thing these old movies do well when they connect.

Paul Clerget’s character, the older, wise-ish friend, he’s in so many of these scenes just observing. He doesn’t say much, but his face tells a story. It’s not flashy acting, but it’s *there*. You can almost feel him thinking, "These young people and their dramatics."

Little Details That Stick

• There’s a particular shot of a staircase that just feels huge and empty. It’s supposed to be grand, but it kinda just emphasizes how lonely some of these characters are.
• The ball scenes. Oh, the ball scenes. The costumes are lovely, though some of the dancing looks a little… stiff. Like everyone learned their steps just yesterday.
• One reaction shot from Odette Joyeux, where she just gasps, but the sound quality makes it sound like a tiny squeak. It’s not perfect, but it’s charmingly imperfect.
• I kept wondering about the actual waltz they play repeatedly. Is it a real piece of music? It gets stuck in your head after a while. 🎵

Pierre Brasseur has this small role, but he manages to make an impression. He’s got that intensity, even in his younger days. You just know he’s going to steal every scene he’s in eventually.

The writing, sometimes it’s a bit flowery. “My heart dances an eternal waltz for you, even as fate conducts a different tune.” You know, that kind of thing. It’s very much of its era. And sometimes, it’s just perfect.

The ending, without giving anything away, it leaves you with this specific feeling. Not exactly happy, not exactly sad, but a kind of lingering melancholy. Like the last notes of a song echoing in a big, empty hall. It doesn't tie everything up neatly, which I actually appreciate. It lets you sit with it.

If you're into films that feel like a journey through time, a bit dusty but still shining in spots, then Valse éternelle could be a lovely, slow evening. It’s a specific taste. Like a very old, slightly forgotten wine. 🍷

It’s definitely not Public Hero Number 1, if you're looking for something with more zip. It’s its own thing. A quiet, persistent hum from the past.