Film Notes

In the early 1980s I spent an afternoon hanging out with nuns.

Explanation? On a visit to London, I was told by an English first cousin that her aunt (not related to me) worked as an Irish nun in a French prison. Perhaps I could visit her?

So arrangements were eventually made and I went to see Sister Mary at the women’s prison at Fleury-Mérogis south of Paris. An elaborate luncheon had been laid out, and I spent a pleasant few hours chatting with the sisters about their life in the prison and my life on the Left Bank. Much wine was consumed.

The nuns hailed from Portugal, the Philippines, and Ireland, but, given their work among the convicts, everyone was fluent in French.

When we finally rose from the table Sister Mary, or rather Sœur Marie, suggested that we take a tour of the place. We were accompanied by a pretty young novice, who had recently arrived from Lisbon.

We walked through corridors, past cell blocks and infirmaries before at last arriving at a large window that looked out over an exercise yard. There were about a dozen or so women walking about in a desultory manner, smoking, talking, killing time.

Suddenly Sister Mary grabbed the novice’s sleeve, pointed at one of the inmates and quickly said something that I did not catch. The novice nodded, obviously impressed

As we were away from the others, I ventured, in English, “What did you just say, Sister?”

She turned to me, her Dublin face alive with excitement. “That woman out there,” she said in a whisper, “was Mesrine’s girlfriend!”