Lisa Blok-Linson

À Los Angeles, une Française, Émilie, séparée de l'homme qu'elle aime, cherche un logement pour elle et son fils de 8 ans, Martin. Elle en trouve un, y installe des meubles récupérés dans les déchets jetés à la rue. Son désarroi est plus exprimé par les autres qu'elle observe que par elle-même, vivant silencieusement un exil démultiplié. Elle tape à la machine face à l'océan. Quelques flashes de sa passion passée la troublent et elle consacre à son fils toute son affection.

Interwoven with scenes that are meant to grab attention by their stunning composition, this biographical look at Finland's violinist Arto Arsi is not so much a narration of his childhood and early years, as an attempt to artistically show what was happening inside his psyche during that time. Literally sold to a master teacher, Sergei Rippas (Tarmo Manni) by his mother when he was still a child, the violin prodigy was forcefully and strictly raised to practice, practice, and perfect his technique. Once an adult, Arsi finds a way to escape the rigors of a U.S. tour and drowns his overworked self in drink, or seeks out one-night stands, or otherwise lets off steam. The tightly-wound spring that has been coiled since he was forced into his grueling training and work sessions -- shown through symbolic images -- eventually snaps in a healthy way, freeing Arsi at last to continue on, simply for the love of music.