Sorry Angel

In the autumn of 1993, Paris hums with the restless energy of art, literature, and fleeting romances. Amid the city’s cobblestone alleys and smoky cafés, a weary yet poetic voice drifts through the night: Jacques, a 39‑year‑old writer whose words have long mirrored his own tangled inner life. He balances the demands of his craft with the fragile routine of raising his young son, Loulou, on alternating evenings, navigating a world that feels both intimate and perpetually out of reach.

Behind the charm of his literary circles lies a quieter urgency. Jacques carries the weight of a serious illness that casts a long, invisible shadow over his days, prompting moments of melancholy and introspection. His close friend Mathieu, an older editor with a steady hand, offers a grounding presence, while memories of past lovers linger like unfinished verses. The city’s vibrant, sometimes chaotic, heartbeat becomes a backdrop for his contemplation of love, loss, and the desire to reclaim a sense of youthful wonder.

A work‑related trip to the windswept coast of Brittany introduces a striking contrast: Arthur, a 22‑year‑old film student whose enthusiasm for storytelling bursts with raw, unfiltered optimism. Freshly discovering his own identity, he feels a pull toward the deeper, more seasoned perspectives Jacques embodies. Their meeting ignites a subtle, electric tension—a blend of mentorship, admiration, and an unspoken attraction that both exhilarates and unsettles them.

As the two men linger between Parisian sophistication and Breton openness, the film paints a delicate portrait of longing and self‑discovery. It explores how the margins of age, health, and creative ambition intersect, inviting viewers to feel the quiet ache of yearning for connection while confronting the inevitable impermanence of desire. The mood remains lyrical and bittersweet, a testament to the fragile beauty found in moments where lives briefly intertwine.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 02:03