The Red Balloon

When the vacuum cleaner breaks down just when the cat decides to do a total winter coat replacement; when there’s no difference after the dentist crowns a cracked tooth that he targets as the cause of agony when I forget to add some hot water to my orange juice, or on a frosty morning, when I pass a fellow dog-walker, I open my mouth to say hello, instead of grunting; when a trillion school reports are due right in the middle of the VCE exams; and that moulting cat also goes on a kitty litter strike and deems the shower or any basin or sink a much better option for letting go – and the world in general spins horribly out of control – I either throw a hissy fit and/or revert to a tragic version of my earlier self, demanding all household members take part in a mammoth cleaning and tidying spree – quite tricky without the vacuum cleaner.

Or I opt for a movie.

And in this case it was The Flight of the Red Balloon, which was inspired by the original 1956 French short, The Red Balloon directed by Albert Lamorisse. When I saw shorts, the film immediately captured my attention. And as it turned out, was just what I needed to calm my frayed nerves.

Imagine sitting back in your seat, in the intimate setting of the Nova, and watching a red balloon bob along the streets of Paris. No rushing. No fast-paced-edge-of-your-seat-blockbuster-action-packed plot. Just the gentle meandering of a balloon, in and out of the life of a little boy in Paris. And a snapshot of the boy’s life with his new nanny (Fang Song), and mother (Juliette Binoche), an actor and puppeteer, struggling to balance her work with caring for her son, while her sometimes daughter lives in Belgium, and their father stays put in Montreal.

The film has a documentary feel to it and the red balloon hovers and bobs like a mystical presence or guardian angel, seen only by Simon, the little boy. Juliette Binoche is outstanding in her role as Suzanne – under strain, warm, vibrant and firey. Her portrayal is particularly extraordinary, because the movie is unscripted and all the lines are improvised by the actors.

Both the original The Red Balloon and the adaptation by Hou Hsiao Hsien are of particular significance to me.

When my children were small, and around a time when I felt that the world was a particularly lonely place, something very unusual happened; it had to do with a red balloon—

It is nearly dinner time. I hear a car pull up in the drive and open the front door to greet my children and their father. They have been to the shops and I can see two helium balloons bobbing around in the back of the car. Samuel is the first to open his door and clambers out with his blue balloon floating above his head, grinning as he greets me. Seconds later, Hannah steps out, and somehow, her balloon string snags on the door – I can still see it in slow motion – and her purple balloon detaches and bobs out of the car, gets caught by the carport roof, then wafts out and up into the sky, disappearing within moments.

She is distraught. Her face is a picture of tragedy. Her loss is incalculable.

And standing at the front door, watching the scene play out before me, unable to stop the chain of events, I feel a sadness and grief, so disproportionate to what has just happened, that it catches me off-guard, and I find there are two of us in tears so that I eventually need to retreat to the privacy of the bathroom to recover.

For the rest of the evening, as Hannah’s balloon floats somewhere above the earth, there is a wearying heaviness in our household.

The following day, the balloon incident is all but forgotten by the children as they head off to school, but for me, at home, the feeling of heaviness and grief refuses to lift — until later in the day, when I spot something red in the tree outside Hannah’s room. I move closer to the window and see it is a red balloon.

Then I break out in goose bumps. There is a sense of mystery around the arrival of this red balloon. It is a still day with not a hint of breeze. The balloon, its string hanging underneath it, is wedged tightly in a dead section of tree that is brittle and sharp. There are jagged branches and twigs on all sides of it. I cannot fathom how the balloon has become wedged here. Let alone where it has come from.

When Samuel and Hannah arrive home from school, I show them the balloon and it takes quite some convincing to make them believe I have not planted it there myself. They eventually believe me when they feel my sense of awe.

We leave for our piano lesson, and an hour later, when we return, the balloon has disappeared without trace.


Seeing the Flight of the Red Balloon was a gentle reminder that even when the vacuum cleaner’s not working and the cat sh—

Well, when the world seems to be spinning out of control —

Perhaps it isn't.

(Here's the original The Red Balloon - about half an hour - or shorts to The Flight of the Red Balloon)

Albert Lamorisse «Le Ballon Rouge» (1956) from radioelectron on Vimeo.