Who among us hasn’t dreamed, even for just a moment, of slowing down or even freezing the passage of time? From the mummies of Ancient Egypt to the portraits ordered by the ultra-wealthy of this world, as well as the self-portraits of Frida Kahlo and L’Immortalité déconcertée by sculptor Georges Rérecipon, the visual and plastic arts have often been the ideal channel to transpose our fear of disappearing without leaving a trace. And why not take advantage of it in the process to enhance our image, at least when we have the means? But there is always the risk of becoming obsessed with our own reflections; social media didn’t invent egotism, after all.
Just talk to the hedonistic hero of Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, who is unable to tolerate the idea that the painting that represents him will age better than he will. Emblematic of the torments of a narcissistic soul, this work saw dozens of adaptations in the 20th and 21st centuries for television, cinema, theatre, and comic books, proving that dandies don’t have a monopoly on aspiring to immortality or eternal youth. In this sense, literature is always highly revealing, capable of condensing time as well as stretching it out to infinity – or almost. This is demonstrated by many examples: Bram Stoker’s Dracula, with, at its centre, or rather in its blood, the figure of the vampire who can brave eternity by feeding on the vitality of others; Virginia Woolf’s Orlando, a hero(ine) who defies genders and centuries to better escape the ticking of the clock; or All Men Are Mortal, a novel by Simone de Beauvoir, which brilliantly reminds us that she was more than just an essayist.
This is without even talking about science fiction, because reality has often caught up with it in our increasingly robotized, cloned, and dematerialized world. In an era where the life expectancy in Canada exceeds 80 years, where medicine, science, and technology have undergone, over the course of a century, breakthroughs as remarkable as they are exponential, where cosmetic surgery has become just one more wellness activity, and where the web indefinitely extends the virtual lives of our deceased, it’s reasonable to believe that we still haven’t seen anything yet. Like nature, humans, with our fear of emptiness, will do everything in our power to repel and rout death, even if it means paradoxically destroying our own environment. On the theatre stage, the Quebec-based company Posthumains examines the “impacts of the development of NBIC technologies (nanotechnologies, biotechnologies, information technologies, and cognitive sciences) on living beings,” particularly by probing the transhumanist movement. Its Post Humains and i/O shows, both the products of brilliant creator Dominique Leclerc, dive headfirst into this quest for an improved, enhanced body. Does it become dehumanized in the process? And to what extent does “our refusal of finitude” blind us?
Between philosophy and the spectacular, the 7th art, of course, eagerly grapples with all these complex questions and, over the course of its roughly 130-year history, has not hesitated to make our fixation on longevity its bread and butter, starting with plots featuring mummies, vampires, and untouchable and resuscitated superheroes, as well as countless adaptations of Isaac Asimov’s novels. Two films come to mind for me that each flirt in their own way with the fantastic while shaking up our relationship with time. First of all, we have David Fincher’s The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, in which a man (Brad Pitt) reverses the normal course of things by being born old and progressing toward youth. Do a soul and its physical envelope always walk hand in hand? Fully embracing its nature as a modern tale, this drama encapsulates our fascination with the inexorable march toward death. More recently, and in another register, The Substance has divided and galvanized cinephiles with Demi Moore’s return to a role where she embraces the darkest parts of what our mirror reflects. Conducted at a cracking pace by French director Coralie Fargeat, this horrifying fable sells us the possibility of generating a rejuvenated and beautified version of ourselves, not without disturbing our conscience. If you suffer from belenophobia – the fear of needles! – however, move along.
What if this eternal theme was instead expressed through song? “Immortality,” written by the Bee Gees and brought fully to life by Céline Dion, naturally comes to mind here.
And I won’t let my heart control my head
But you are my only
We don’t say goodbye
We don’t say goodbye
And I know what I’ve got to be
Immortality
I make my journey through eternity
I keep the memory of you and me inside
This desire for the absolute is part of a love to be preserved, despite an unexpected destiny that pushes you to the highest peaks and leads you into history… and memories. The path of passion seems to be the one that most quickly unites talents and minds, from love always (“I Will Always Love You” by Dolly Parton and Whitney Houston) to the Olympic promise of Édith Piaf in “L’hymne à l’amour”:
Nous aurons pour nous l’éternité
Dans le bleu de toute l’immensité
Dans le ciel, plus de problème
Mon amour, crois-tu qu’on s’aime?
Dieu réunit ceux qui s’aiment
(We will have eternity for us
In the blue of all immensity
In the sky, no more problems
My love, do you believe we love each other?
God reunites those who love each other)
Jacques Brel, meanwhile, contemplates old lovers, assuring that “il [leur] fallut bien du talent pour être vieux sans être adultes” (“it takes a lot of talent to be old without being adults”). And Gaël Faye adds:
Malgré la vie, le temps passé
Malgré la jeunesse fatiguée
Personne ne pourra empêcher
Nos corps usés de chalouper
(Despite life, time passed
Despite tired youth
No one can stop
Our worn-out bodies from swaying
But there are also, in reality, those key people who make you believe that life has no age. On January 12, at the age of 101, the lights went out for that famous storyteller who had lit up so many hearts, both young and old, in a dazzling career between stage and screen, where her Fanfreluche and her grandmother from Passe-Partout inspired joy and opened the imagination. It’s not surprising that Kim Yaroshevskaya was chosen for the cover of the beautiful book Vénérables, in which photojournalist Jacques Nadeau sets out to meet some 80 elderly figures who have been through it all and share with us not the secret of their longevity, but their know-how-to-be and their intimate relationship with existence. Enough to reconcile us with our latent chronophobia – the fear of time passing…
Long life to you, Strom Magazine!
REDISCOVER WORKS RELATED TO LONGEVITY
Book
The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde (1890)
Dracula, by Bram Stoker (1897)
Orlando, by Virginia Woolf (1928)
All Men Are Mortal, by Simone de Beauvoir (1946)
Vénérables, by Jacques Nadeau (Éditions Cardinal, 2024)
Theatre
Post Humains, by Dominique Leclerc (L’instant même, 2019)
i/O, by Dominique Leclerc (Atelier 10, 2023)
Cinema
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, directed by David Fincher (2008)
The Substance, directed by Coralie Fargeat (2024)
Songs
“Immortality,” by Céline Dion
“I Will Always Love You,” by Dolly Parton
“L’hymne à l’amour,” by Édith Piaf
“La chanson des vieux amants,” by Jacques Brel
“Chalouper,” by Gaël Faye
