At the end of this elegant documentary, Pierre Bergé looks out of a window. The clouds are low, and trees and hills stretch out into the distance. Yves Saint Laurent, Bergé’s partner, has recently passed away, and his art collection has been sold for a massive amount of money—in the region of half a billion USD. The fashion designer and his partner lived in the highest part of society. They slept in palaces, made love in Moroccan gardens, did designer drugs in Manhattan, and designed clothes in rooms stuffed with all kinds of expensive things from every part of the world—West Africa, North Africa, Asia Minor, East Asia, South America.
Bergé looks out the window. His hands are behind his back. His eyes are looking at a world that no longer contains his lover. The trees, the hills, the clouds: the outside. The inside: the interior spaces, the spaces of memory, thoughts, and feelings. Often the camera roams the palaces that Bergé and Laurent shared. Phantomlike, we move down a hall with walls that are covered with paintings and photographs. We then enter a living room—in front of us is a long couch with lots of pretty cushions. Behind the couch, a bookshelf that’s loaded with old and thick books. We learn that Yves Saint Laurent loved to read Proust’s À la Recherche du Temps Perdu and identified not with Baron de Charlus but with the star of the first and second-best volume, Du Côté de Chez Swann, Charles Swann.
Right before the film ends, Bergé turns and looks at us directly. His melancholy but noble eyes tell us everything: This man does not believe in the soul. There is no soul-space or soul-time; there is only this place, this time. Life is too brief.