“All that is in the past.
“From the future, you mean.
– If you prefer. »
The sweet absurdity of this dialogue between Marty McFly and Emmett Brown, the two heroes of the saga Back to the futurealways made me laugh a lot. Even after so many years. On this gloomy winter evening, I am pleased to see Robert Zemeckis’ trilogy for the thousandth time.
The “home cinema” session, moreover, has a new flavor: my two eldest, 10 and 12 years old, seem to me quite mature for a family trip through time – with a few cuts, certain scenes that can impress them.
On screen, the unforgettable Marty, a high school student who loves rock and skateboarding, flanked by his crazy Einstein-like sidekick, alias “doc”, embodies the carefreeness of the 1980s like few other fictional characters.
Recently, they have even become quite trendy again, carried by a powerful “vintage” wave. To the point of seducing the children of the XXIand century, even on the shelves of supermarkets where the Playmobil with their effigy are a hit.
At first glance, these films, imbued with tenderness and naivety, nevertheless seem far removed from the concerns of our time, which is darker and more worried. It prevents. When the DeLorean crosses “88 miles per hour” – the speed required to propel the mythical hero’s car into the future or the past – the magic is intact.
Who hasn’t dreamed of getting lost in the corridors of time? To meet one’s own teenage parents, even one’s deceased ancestors, to try to better understand one’s intimate story?
If this fable still speaks to us, beyond its epic soundtrack and the irresistible humor that permeates it, it is undoubtedly because it accurately probes the depth of our family ties, by making us meditate on our inscription in a fleeting and mysterious eternity. This part of childhood that we would like to retain with all our strength.
It’s still not Proust, I grant you. But for us, the trilogy will have made it possible to initiate a family dialogue on the relationship to time, oh so relative depending on whether you are young or old.
A school year seems interminable at ten years old; for us it’s a blink of an eye. As a schoolboy, being born in 1982, like the author of these lines, brings you closer to Roman Gaul, even to the Cretaceous. That’s it for the long haul.
But there is also the more everyday one that we tame as we grow up. Learn to tell the time. Discover the joys of the diary, the deadlines that mark out childhood. The necessary articulation between homework and pleasure, between learning and leisure. Identify “priorities”, as parents say.
Our mission is to accompany this awareness, this sometimes vertigo, consisting in inscribing our desires for infinity in a necessarily limited, and therefore precious, existence.
A wise monk had slipped me this mantra that I often repeat to myself: “Today, you don’t have something to do but something to live. » With or without a flying DeLorean.