Absurdist Take

You have to be a true literary nerd and film geek to see a 10:00 screening on a Saturday night of a film about Camus.

Let's just go ahead and say I'm both.

Before I showed my true colors, though, I walked the red carpet with a most urbane girlfriend to mingle with the French and French-minded.

As an added bonus, the French Film Festival reception was held at the Scott House, meaning I got to satisfy my passion for architecture, too.

An imposing American Renaissance structure on Franklin Street, and one I'd never set foot in, I found it notable for the fact that every room had been designed in a different style.

As if that alone doesn't connote big money, a typical radiator cover had marble on the top and ornate pilasters on the side.

But I wasn't there for an architectural tour (sadly) but food, wine and good company, and I got them all.

The food came from any number of expected restaurants (Bistro Bobette, Amour Wine Bistro, Jean Jacques Bakery) and any number of head-scratching ones (Weezie's Kitchen, Millie's).

Bobette was doing buckwheat crepes with ham and Gruyere, so I kissed the chef European-style and walked away with a hot crepe.

Amour had their Tartelette Flambee, Belle Vie was doing veal meatballs and, inexplicably, Millie's was doing pork tacos.

We made the rounds of the endless rooms of food and drink while admiring ornate staircases, stained glass windows and hand-carved moldings.

Dessert came from Pearl's Cupcakes and Michel Ciuizel Chocolates, where we tried the tiniest mousses.

A multi-layered table in the back room was a monument to cheese with a dozen kinds surrounded by fruit of all kinds.

I'm not going to lie; we lingered there a while, enjoying just about every one.

Once sated, we left the madding crowds, photographers and French speakers for the Byrd Theatre and more of the same.

Waiting for the rest of the audience to be seated, a very tall Frenchman chose the row right in front of us.

Smiling, he said, "I don't want to disturb you, so I will sit here," gesturing at the seat in front of the empty seat next to me.

"Is okay?" he inquired in his accented voice, turning in his  seat to ask. "My wife will sit here," pointing to the seat in front of me. "She is short."

She soon arrived and then an older white-haired American woman asked if she could take the remaining aisle seat.

I was immediately charmed by her friendliness to the French couple, her dangling rhinestone earrings and especially when she pulled out her lipstick and mirror and began applying pink.

She may not have had a date on this Saturday night, but she was looking good and enjoying herself anyway.

My kind of a woman.

Actor  Stephane Freiss, the star of "Camus" introduced the film, saying, "They asked me to say two or three words. Have a good projection! I guess that's four."

The story of the Nobel Prize-winning author's last ten years was told through the eyes of the women with whom he was involved.

And, frankly my dear, nothing interests me quite like a woman's take on a man.

The story moved through his damaged marriage, multiple affairs ("She gives herself in ways I've never seen before") and a passion to his Algerian roots and their struggle for freedom.

Of course the dialog was stellar; we're talking about the words of a man who gained fame for his words.

"Traitors ares what they call those who are true to themselves," he explains.

Despite how very tired I was after last night's ridiculously short horizontal period, I was caught up in the story of  the second youngest Nobel winner for literature (Kipling had been a few years younger) who died unexpectedly young in a car crash three years later.

No doubt leaving behind all kinds of women to mourn his passing, each for different reasons. And I think he would have been okay with that.

He may not have been perfect, but he seemed to have carved out a life measured by integrity, humanity and love.

An absurdist or not, he knew how basic that was.

"But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads?" Camus famously asked.

Indeed.

That's certainly the definition of this woman's happiness.