Christine Boisson, a discreet yet fiercely audacious actress, left us on October 21, 2024, in Paris, following a lung disease that her daughter, Juliette Kowski, did not hesitate to call a "smoker’s disease." At 68, she, who never really sought the limelight, leaves behind a career marked by resolutely feminist choices, a critical view of the film industry, and above all, an uncompromising stance against the "woman-object" stereotypes that tried to confine her. Christine Boisson was the elegance of saying no, with a sly smile.
The Weight of Leading Roles (and Fewer Clothes)
Christine Boisson made a name for herself at 17 in what could be called, without blushing, a sensational entry into cinema: the sultry Emmanuelle (1974) by Just Jaeckin. A role of a young woman half-dressed in an erotic jungle, what more could one ask for to launch a career in the 70s? Well, a lot, actually. She plays Marie-Ange, a secondary character whose name, it must be admitted, has an ironically angelic side. This role opens the doors of cinema for her… but only those that do not lead very far, at least not where she would like. The industry saw in her only what she showed—or what she was asked to show.
But very quickly, Christine Boisson refuses this easy shortcut to fame. Another might have bent under the tempting offers (read here: the plump paychecks), but not her. She chooses the Conservatoire national supérieur d’art dramatique de Paris to hone her craft, as one enters into resistance. Because yes, resisting the cinema of that era also meant resisting the overwhelming temptation to be reduced to a silhouette. A choice that might have seemed career-suicidal, but which, in hindsight, makes her the silent heroine of another form of struggle.
The Avant-Gardism of a Woman Who Doesn’t Just Want to "Appear"
Christine Boisson has all the makings of a pioneer. Refusing to be confined to trophy roles when all the cameras of the moment lingered on the curves of young actresses? Sacrilege! Yet she does it, and with flair. At a time when directors only had eyes for appearance, Christine, she, demands text, depth, and above all, substance. "My body will not be my only asset," she seems to say to an industry more accustomed to bowing than to outbursts.
It is with Extérieur, nuit (1980) by Jacques Bral that she makes her big comeback, this time in the role of a taxi driver. Cora, her character, is as mysterious as she is strong. Finally, Christine is seen for what she is: a talented actress, not a walking body. And there, the transformation takes place: goodbye superficial roles, hello prestigious collaborations with directors like Michelangelo Antonioni in Identification of a Woman (1982), where she plays a complex, almost elusive role. A character that is watched, certainly, but above all listened to.
Discretion, a Life Choice
Christine Boisson never sought to become a star in the Hollywood sense of the term. Being on the cover of magazines? Not for her. What she wants is integrity. And it is in this discretion that she finds her balance. The ease of becoming a celebrity? No, thank you. The rigor of a sharp and thoughtful filmography? Absolutely. Her collaborations with Philippe Garrel, Claude Lelouch, or more recently with Maïwenn in The Actress’ Ball (2009) clearly show her ability to choose her roles carefully. Christine Boisson was a cinema epicurean: she only tasted what had meaning, even if it meant staying in the background.
A Fight Much Bigger Than Herself
What makes Christine Boisson unforgettable, beyond her bold choices, is the cause she defended all her life: that of the free woman on screen. She fought for actresses to no longer be seen solely as objects of desire, a fight that still resonates today. Her commitment was a perpetual "no" to reducing her art to her appearance. A "no" to ease. But above all, a "yes" to the recognition of female talent in all its depth.
If she was never a popular icon, Christine Boisson will have marked, in a more discreet but equally striking way, a cinema in search of renewal. Her determination not to be confined to the stereotypes of an era where everything tended to sexualize actresses is a precious legacy for all those who followed. A career marked by refusals? Perhaps. But above all by affirmations: that of being seen for who she truly was.
So, in tribute to Christine Boisson, it is good to remember that saying "no" to certain roles can sometimes be the greatest role of one’s life.
