Tuesday, 24 Apr 2018
Entertainment Uncategorized

Françoise Dorin, the wisp of letters

Actress, playwright, novelist and songwriter, Françoise Dorin died Friday in Courbevoie (Hauts-de-Seine), at 89 years old. In 1980, the beds of one of his most famous plays were in a place. In 2007, the heart of one of his novels was two places. There was Katherine Pancol and Françoise Sagan in the titles of Françoise Dorin , who was an actress before being a playwright, novelist and songwriter, and who died Friday in Courbevoie (Hauts-de-Seine), at 89, ten days of his birthday, after having struggled for several years against disease. Born January 23, 1928 in the XVII e arrondissement of Paris, Françoise Dorin had married the second actor Jean Poiret, who died in 1992 and she had a daughter. Since 1975, she has shared her life with comedian and director Jean Piat. At Neuilly-sur-Seine, where she lived, welcoming visitors in a vestibule with painted walls, and then begging them to take their places under a string of dictionaries, LA Dorin, to whom her hair made a silky golden helmet, also covered sparks the conversation, bursting with laughter and bursts of excitement. The author for the scene of “the Invoice”, “the Turning” or “Short Straw” but also, in bookstore, “Go see dad, mom works” or “skirts panties”, had published his latest book, ” How old are you? “, A reflection with a touch of humor on old age, in 2010. The text was worn the same year on the boards of the Comédie des Champs-Elysées by Jean Piat. The talent to mix humor and gravity Child of the ball, daughter of the singer René Dorin, Françoise, who had started performing at the Théâtre des Deux-Anes, did not do anything without gaiety, except perhaps in some of the many songs she has signed. The general public, in fact, knew it less, but it was due to him “Never admit it”, written for Guy Mardel, or “That it’s sad Venice”, for Charles Aznavour. Otherwise, she liked to translate in her situations and her dialogues the reflexes and the faults of the modern society, mixing serious and primitive spirit. Dorin was a woman of observation – the couple, the lovers, the family, the children … All without the doors slammed too hard from the boulevard. This wisp of letters, who called herself “gifted for happiness,” often admitted that she was awakened at night by her characters, elves equipped with ladders who climbed up and down her bed to blow stories. “These are my creative insomnia,” she said. Precision exercises. Nothing annoyed him more than the approximation. Dorin hated the unsaid as others hate the semicolon. Suddenly, she surpiquait her texts of details and explanation – “my points on the i” – at the risk of annoying the actors. That she was right did not prevent people on the left from appreciating it. When, for a time, she lived next to the designer Claire Bretécher, the latter rushed to admire her admiration. Now that the author of “But my heart is empty”, another of songs, has packed up, there will be many, who loved it, to have an empty place in the heart.

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