This film is like a UFO, coming from nowhere, almost like a poem, there is something very melancholic about it. Is it the B&W? I think it’s more than that, it makes me think about life and death. It is very beautiful and emotionally disturbing. Why is it that sometimes fly fishing touches us right to our soul?

At the beginning of the film, you can read a poem by René Fallet.

It must be difficult to be cruel and a moron, all alone by the river. The river couldn’t care less. Spiting in the water won’t trouble it.