JJA

JJA are his initials. This is the portrait of those initials: JJA in the garden,
JJA in a deckchair on his balcony, in his office, in his bathroom. All in all, JJA,
and his loneliness. His large mansion in Switzerland called “Rosebud” is the
sole setting of the film, as decided by Gaëlle Boucand. But even though
lonesomeness seems to be his fate, as was the case for Welles’ Kane, this
deserted setting is filled with an unceasing flood of words.
So what exactly is being told in this enclosed place? Many stories, actually
– complicated, undecipherable business stories, about financial scams
perpetrated upon him. And there he goes, appraising his success, evoking
with resignation his setbacks with lawyers, business partners, his ex-wife,
or local shopkeepers who have pinned him as a tax dodger. He soliloquises,
shares his memories, his obsession with numerology, his relationship
with money, works of art, interior design, the building of a hen-house, and
converses at great length about the state of the world or mere anecdotes.
He just talks endlessly. Filmed in static shots, indoor or outdoor, he starts a
reflection here, resumes it there, without never really finish it. There is a gap,
a kaleidoscopic diffraction between his voice and his body, as if they were
disconnected. Clearly, in spite of his loud confession, JJA remains a mystery.
But another, distanced portrait emerges: the portrait of a form of power, that
of speech and of a man who secures a kind of order with his own words. (NF) Gaëlle BOUCAND