From childish stealings, wheelings, dealings
Arms stretched out to grasp what Cinema gave
Running, running, running toward nowhere
A lost youth, grown up into cinematic dissidence
May 1968 and the Cinémathèque Française
Shouting for freedom as pretty girls clung to the gates
Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel!
Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel!
Stealing kisses for amour, stealing for bed and board
A child of the New Wave, an icon of a cinematic left
Marked with permanent defiance, the most natural
A born actor, arrogant but affectionate, a born leader
For François, for Jean-Luc, for Rivette too
A boy, a man, a symbol of Gallic irreverence
Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel!
Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel!
Thirteen hours, the mystery of Balzac unraveled
A mother, a whore, two pretty English girls
Night, day, a legend growing up, on the run
A film with his idol, but never able to meet
Godfather to a post new wave generation gap
Putting girls in skin-tight leather for silent art
Dangling from rooftops in homage to Feuillade
Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel!
Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel!
Giving Louis his cigarette flip, his eyes and mouth
Giving his wink and stare, his walk, talk & bravado
A boy grown up like Peter Pan, his scream intact
His shadow pinned to the great wall of cinephilia
A man-child of je ne sais quoi, stealing, wheeling
Growing up in bohemian Parisian savoir faire
Born unto Les quatre cents coups, wheeling, dealing
Eternal icon of the New Wave and beyond
Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel!
Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel! Antoine Doinel!
2 comments:
Hi Kevyn -- I love this poem -- where did it come from?
Where did it come from!? Where did it come from!?? I wrote it man!!
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