To Live, to Die, to Live Again

The title of To Live, To Die, To Live Again provides a clue as to Gaël Morel’s film’s tripartite structure. It follows the story of three Parisians who become intimately connected by their shared relationships and the tragedy wrought by the HIV virus.

In early 1990s Paris, Sammy (Théo Christine) kisses a man at a drug-fuelled rave. It’s a moment of exuberance but, nonetheless, he informs his girlfriend Emma (Lou Lampros) that he has also “been with men”. Several years later Sammy and Emma are living together with a young son, Nathan. As Sammy renovates a new flat, he meets Cyril (Victor Belmond), a photographer whose development of his prints is interrupted by the renovations.

There’s an instant attraction between Cyril and Sammy, with the former utilising the latter and his son as a model. But Cyril turns Sammy away as he has HIV. It’s the 1990s, so treatments are available, but the disease is still a death sentence. Cyril and Sammy let their feelings get the better of them – though they use protection. Emma catches them in the act, and confronts Cyril with a non-aggression pact to share the father of her present and future child.

If only Sammy had been similarly careful with other conquests. He soon collapses while driving his metro train, and is told he has AIDS. He has to tell Emma he has put her health, those of their child and baby-to-be at dreadful risk. What follows is an unconventional three-sided relationship in which the wealthy Cyril aims to help Sammy live out his days, as Emma comes to terms with what the man she loves has done to her and himself.

There are instances of genuine heartbreak and emotion in the film, and it’s beautifully acted – with Lampros a particular standout. She plays Emma as both a carefree young woman and one worn out by what life has thrown at her.

The problem at the heart of the feature is the actions of Sammy. Characters in films do not need to be moral paragons – they show us all sides of humanity. Yet his actions are so knowingly selfish and stupid towards those he is supposed to love – this is not the 1980s when ignorance might be an excuse – that they fill you with dread and then fury. It’s just a difficult concept to build a truly emotive drama about unconventional love around.

The final act, the living again, also feels off-kilter – as new treatments provide an opportunity at life for the pair who survive with the disease that they find provokes as much sadness as joy.

To Live, To Die, To Live Again is a movie with some really touching moments. Sadly, it doesn’t quite come together as an emotional whole.

Mark Worgan

To Live, To Die, To Live Again does not have a UK release date yet.

Read more reviews from our Cannes Film Festival 2024 coverage here.

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