If nothing else, Fragments of a Life Loved is impressive solely for director Chloé Barreau’s archival abilities. For more than three decades the director has documented details of her love life with a fine precision, from her first boyfriend at 16 to her most recent recorded relationship. Through videos, photographs and letters, we relive these experiences alongside Barreau’s partners as they share their sides of the story.
This is an inherently egotistical project, but also one that is deeply personal and vulnerable for all those involved. “It’s crazy she feels entitled to ask us [to participate],” one of her exes says early on. And yet they do, recounting intimate details of their time with Barreau with often startling honesty. The camera tends to linger on their faces once they’ve finished talking, often capturing small changes in expression that belie the complexity of their emotions.
Some are still clearly greatly affected by their encounter with this woman, who becomes an almost unreal being as the film goes on. She’s seen in passing on old videos, but our impression of her is based primarily on the memories of others. We don’t have much of an idea of how she views herself, seeing her almost entirely through the lens of others. In this way the documentary has an eulogistic edge, the absence of its central force evoking a sense of loss. Its completeness, too, makes the ending seem final, a retrospective with no potential for future developments.
Alongside the specifics of Barreau’s love life, the participants consider what it means to love, to be loved, and how the experience can be defined. There’s a clear distinction made between ‘loving’ and ‘being in love’, the consideration of love and its impact as a destructive force, how it feeds into manipulation, betrayal and pain. Barreau seems not to censor her subjects’ negative depictions of her, treating her past infidelity and cruelty with the same neutrality as recollections of her charisma and care. She still has the final say on what has made it into the documentary, and we have no way of knowing what she has concealed, but the version of reality she does give us is far from rosy.
The footage that makes up the bulk of the film is mundane, ordinary. People watching TV, walking down the street, at a party; frequently unaware or uncaring that they’re on camera, so used to Barreau’s habit of recording everything around her that they disregard its presence. At the time it was unnerving, some of the exes say, remembering feeling objectified or uncomfortable. Towards the end of the film, though, some share their gratitude that they can look back on their day-to-day lives in such detail. These archives prove that they existed, one says, capturing and preserving the big and small moments of love and life.
Although this is a commendable project, almost a case study of love, it sometimes feels too self indulgent. Just as Anne, an early ex, stated her annoyance with Barreau’s unending romanticism, her love of love and use of it to excuse any of her actions, it’s easy to become frustrated with the documentary. The final monologue, from Barreau herself, laments these failed relationships with an overly romanticised view. “What happened between us? Why couldn’t we do better?” she asks, questions that seem to have been fairly categorically answered over the course of the film.
While the final act of Fragments of a Life Loved may be overly saccharine, the intentions of the project are fascinating. To have conceived of and executed such a complex idea is a feat in itself, and has produced a film that celebrates beauty in the mundane and the importance of love, in all its forms. Perhaps more impressive of all, though, is to have managed to get these 12 exes to participate in the relationship post mortems.
Fragments of a Life Loved will screen at Cinecitta 3rd Italian Doc Season at London’s Bertha DocHouse 20-21st July 2024
