Snow in Autumn
Snow in Autumn is told through the eyes of the faithful old maid of a White Russian family. She has nursed all the children through the years, and now, with a heavy heart, she sees the youngest male members of the family leave to fight in the Great War.
Following the revolution, she stays in the house, and awaits the family's return. However, they flee to Paris, except the youngest, who, on his return to the old family home is shot dead by his former friend. Traumatised, Tatiana must join the family in Paris to tell them of the son's death. She stays on with them, but she, unlike the younger members of the family, cannot adapt to the cramped and poverty-stricken life they lead there. She becomes sad and introspective, longing for the cold, icy winters of Russia. It is a poignant tale, made more resonant by the fact that Nemirovsky herself had to flee Russia with her family.
| Le Bal | |
|---|---|
| Produced by | Charles Delac Marcel Vandal Simon Schiffrin (line producer) |
| Music by | Werner R. Heymann |
| Cinematography | Nicolas Farkas Armand Thirard |
| Studio(s) | Les Films Marcel Vandal et Charles Delac |
| Distributed by | Protex Pictures Corporation (USA, 1932) |
| Release date(s) | 11 September 1931 |
| Running time | 75 min |
| Country | France |
| Language | French |
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Famous quotes containing the words snow and/or autumn:
“I weathered some merry snow-storms, and spent some cheerful winter evenings by my fireside, while the snow whirled wildly without, and even the hooting of the owl was hushed. For many weeks I met no one in my walks but those who came occasionally to cut wood and sled it to the village.... For human society I was obliged to conjure up the former occupants of these woods.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“They may bring their fattest cattle and richest fruits to the fair, but they are all eclipsed by the show of men. These are stirring autumn days, when men sweep by in crowds, amid the rustle of leaves like migrating finches; this is the true harvest of the year, when the air is but the breath of men, and the rustling of leaves is as the trampling of the crowd.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)