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Ane and I were born in the same year, 1946, and we were contemporaries. However, our birthdays were in different months – mine in February and hers in December. Our upbringings were also similar – her mother was an actress and mine was an artist, and we both had fathers who were in the military. We were two young and attractive women living in London during the 1960s, a time of great change and new ideas. We were discovered and brought into the film industry, embraced the concept of free love, and explored new forms of creative expression. Our parents, on the other hand, were simply bewildered by it all. But we were unstoppable, and for a few years, we felt like the world was ours.
Our initial movie together was Richard Lester’s The Knack… and How to Get It (1965). In one scene, we happened to be standing on the stairs together, but at the time, we didn’t really have a close friendship. It wasn’t until later, after we both ended up in France (with me arriving much later after marrying musician Jean-Michel Jarre in 1978), that I related more to Jane. We would often run into each other in town or at events, and I would frequently attend her performances. It was nice being the English girls in Paris, as the French didn’t quite understand us in the same way. Even though Jane and I belonged to different social circles – our husbands were involved in very different genres of music and we were both private individuals – we realized that our lives were following similar paths, running parallel to each other.
Over time, we communicated with each other through various means, even before the invention of texting, and we often engaged in friendly conversations. I recall her mentioning that she chose the name Charlotte for her daughter with Serge Gainsbourg because she admired my character. Jane possessed a gentle demeanor and although she was well-known in France, she remained modest about her fame. She would express gratitude for her success, acknowledging that others played a significant role while she happily followed along. This was not insincere humility; when we spoke, it was evident that she genuinely believed she had been granted the opportunity to be a part of a world full of power and creativity.
During her time with Serge Gainsbourg, her partner from 1968 to 1980, she maintained the image of a beautiful baby doll and starred in popular comedies in France, which reflected her charming personality. She was open and expressive about her emotions and wanted people to understand her true self. Unlike the trend in Paris, she did not try to conform or be cool, staying true to her British roots and lovely accent. Even when she moved on to more daring films with Jacques Doillon, her partner after Serge, she fully immersed herself in each role, infusing it with her own unique touch. Her smile was always a favorite of mine. Jane was always true to herself, in body, mind, and soul, never pretending to be someone else.
Jane was known for her kind and sociable nature, much like her daughter Kate. She was passionate about political and social causes, and dedicated to helping others. Although she cherished her privacy, she also enjoyed spending time with her family at their country house. However, after the tragic loss of her first child, Kate, in 2013, Jane took a break from work for two years. Eventually, she was asked by the Symphony Orchestra of Montreal to perform her late husband Serge’s songs for the 25th anniversary of his death. This led to her touring with various symphony orchestras worldwide for two years. Jane was able to pay tribute to Serge’s love for classical music through these performances.
In 2015, we spent a memorable 48 hours at a literature festival where we immersed ourselves in the poetry of William Blake. We practiced in her residence and she was always dedicated and hardworking, never taking breaks and constantly busy as if she felt time was limited to achieve perfection.
Jane was a talented creator of diaries, songs, plays, and films. Her final album, Oh! Pardon Tu Dormais (Sorry, You Were Sleeping, 2020), was named after the play she had previously written and starred in. She wrote all the lyrics for this album, delving into the depths of her emotions and expressing them through song before her passing.
Jane had been feeling ill for an extended period of time, yet she never lost her desire to express herself. She continuously pushed herself to her limits, regardless of how she was feeling, always putting on a show for those who cared for her.
Her remarkable ability to survive persisted until the very end.
We coincidentally encountered each other at the Paris Opera shortly before her passing. We crossed paths in the grand foyer of the Palais Garnier and engaged in one final amicable conversation. Our bond was one of mutual admiration and affection, as we traveled similar paths in parallel lives. We would occasionally run into each other, exchange words, then continue on our separate journeys, but always keeping a quiet watch over one another. This was the dynamic between Jane B and Charlotte R.
Source: theguardian.com
