| Those Who Love Me Can Take the Train | |
| Native Name: | |
| Director: | Patrice Chéreau |
| Producer: | Charles Gassot Jacques Hinstin |
| Starring: | Pascal Greggory |
| Cinematography: | Eric Gautier |
| Editing: | François Gédigier |
| Runtime: | 122 minutes |
| Distributor: | BAC Films |
| Country: | France |
| Language: | French |
| Budget: | $8.5 million |
| Gross: | $3.8 million[1] |
Those Who Love Me Can Take the Train (French: Ceux qui m'aiment prendront le train) is a 1998 French drama film directed by Patrice Chéreau and written by Chéreau, Danièle Thompson and Pierre Trividic. It stars Pascal Greggory, Vincent Perez, Charles Berling and Dominique Blanc.
The film follows the friends of a recently deceased minor painter Jean-Baptiste Emmerich as they take a train from Paris to Limoges, where he is to be buried, attend his funeral, then gather at the home of his twin brother, Lucien. The mourners include François, who spends the journey listening to a series of taped conversations with the painter; Jean-Marie and Claire, a couple whose marriage has broken down; Emmerich's former lover Lucie; Louis, a close friend of François, and Bruno a young man with whom he has fallen in love. As the train heads south, the travellers watch the car carrying Emmerich's coffin being driven recklessly alongside the train by their friend Thierry.
At the funeral Jean-Marie makes a speech condemning family life, and declares, to Claire's anger, that he will never become a father. At the gathering after the funeral the guests argue about which of them was closest to Emmerich. Claire discovers that a young woman present, Viviane, was actually Emmerich's son Frédéric, who has become a woman.[2]
The inspiration for the film, and its title, came from a request made by the documentary film-maker François Reichenbach to those attending his funeral.
The sequences on the train were filmed over 14 days in two carriages on trains running between Paris and Mulhouse. Interviewed in The Guardian, Patrice Chereau said "You cannot really fabricate the movement of a train in a studio - the actors and the camera moving at the same time. We needed to have the real energy of that journey".[3] Reviewing the film for Sight & Sound, Chris Darke said "the journey to Limoges is a triumph both of exposition and choreography.....Éric Gautier's use of handheld 'Scope cinematography gives the feeling of both buffeting movement and swooping detail."[2]