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Ane and I were born in the same year, 1946, making us contemporaries. While I was born in February, she was born in December. Our upbringings were also similar – her mother was an actress and mine was an artist, and we both had fathers who served in the military. Living in London during the 1960s, we experienced the rapid changes and ideals of the era. We were young and beautiful, caught up in the 60s dream, and quickly discovered by filmmakers. We embraced the concept of free love and eagerly explored new forms of creative expression. Our parents, on the other hand, were bewildered by it all. But nothing could hold us back during those years – we felt like we owned the world.
The first film we worked on together was Richard Lester’s The Knack… and How to Get It (1965). There was a scene where we were both standing on the stairs, but we didn’t really become friends at that time. I felt more connected to Jane after we both ended up in France, although I arrived much later than she did. By then, I had already married my second husband, musician Jean-Michel Jarre. We would run into each other in town and at events, and I would often attend Jane’s performances. It was nice being the English girls in Paris – the French didn’t quite understand us in the same way. Despite not being part of the same social circles and having different husbands who played different music, Jane and I recognized that our lives were moving in similar directions, parallel to each other.
Over time, we would exchange messages with each other, even before text messaging, and we enjoyed having friendly discussions. I recall her mentioning that she named her daughter, Charlotte [with Serge Gainsbourg], after me because she admired my personality. Jane was incredibly kind. Although she was well-known in France, she remained humble about her fame. She would often say that she was fortunate to have others leading the way while she followed along. This was not insincere modesty. When we spoke, it was clear that she truly believed she had been given the wonderful opportunity to be a part of a vibrant and artistic community.
During her time with Serge Gainsbourg from 1968 to 1980, Jane maintained an image of herself as a beautiful baby doll. She also appeared in popular comedy films in France, showcasing these qualities that were also a part of her personality. She was very open about her emotions and unafraid to express herself, wanting others to truly understand who she was. In contrast to the norm in Paris, she had no interest in being “cool” and remained true to her British roots, keeping her lovely accent. In all her film roles, even when she ventured into edgier projects with Jacques Doillon (her partner after Serge), she fully immersed herself in the character, making it unique and unconventional. Jane’s smile was always a highlight for me. She strived to stay true to herself in mind, body, and soul, never pretending to be someone else.
Jane, like her daughter Kate, was a caring and socially conscious person who was passionate about political issues and charitable causes. She was always active and had a strong sense of concern for others. Although she also valued her privacy, she enjoyed spending time with her family in their country home. However, after the tragic loss of her first child Kate in 2013, Jane took a two-year break from work. She was eventually convinced to return when the Montreal Symphony Orchestra invited her to perform her late husband Serge’s songs for the 25th anniversary of his death. She then embarked on a two-year tour with various symphony orchestras around the world, paying tribute to Serge’s love for classical music.
In 2015, we spent an amazing 48 hours at a literary festival where we focused on the poetry of William Blake. We practiced at her house and she was extremely dedicated to her work, never taking breaks and always on the go. It seemed as though she never had enough time to achieve perfection in everything she did.
Jane was a talented creator of journals, musical compositions, theatrical productions, and movies. Her most recent record, Oh! Pardon Tu Dormais (Sorry, You Were Sleeping, 2020), was named after a play she had previously written and acted in. In this collection, she penned all of her own words, delving into the depths of her intense emotions that continued to haunt her. Through her songs, she conveyed what she needed to share before her departure.
For a long period, Jane had been feeling unwell, but her desire to express herself never wavered. Despite her condition, she continued to push herself to the edge and put on a show for those who cared about her.
Until the very end, she possessed an exceptional ability to endure.
We coincidentally encountered each other at the Paris Opera shortly before she passed away. It happened in the grand foyer of the Palais Garnier and we had our final pleasant conversation. Our bond was one where you hold the other person in high regard and in your heart; you are both on similar paths, living parallel lives, occasionally crossing paths and chatting before moving on, but always quietly looking out for each other. The two individuals involved were Jane B and Charlotte R.
Source: theguardian.com
