Born Jean-Marie Maurice Scherer, his debut is that of a writer, when in 1946 he published Elisabeth, a novel – characterised by subtle prose – that let us forsee the style of the scripts of his future movies. The book came out with the pseudonym Gilbert Cordier. A pseudonym is often associated with shame and resentment (see Stendhal), and in this regard Monsieur Rohmer, with his double nom de plume, probably had something to reveal.

Following the first feature films, the artist begins to see his path. His adventure in the world of art-house cinema has begun. Director on the one hand and, on the other, theorist. In fact, Rohmer was Editor of the Cahiers du cinéma for some years. Those were the years of Godard, Chabrol, Rivette, Eustache, Truffaut. Years of unforgettable movies (the legend of À bout de souffle, the poetic story of Jules et Jim) when Rohmer chose his position (on the sidelines) to play an independent game. He conceives an ambitious project: cycles of movies (stories at different stages, on multiple levels) in which he intends to recount the endless facets of the human soul, the worthlessness and the complexity, the splendour and the fragility, with all the comic aspects (or tragicomic).

The first cycle is that of the Moral Tales. Six astonishing movies, of great depth, each profoundly different from the other and yet all linked in a closed circle. La boulangère de Monceau (1962), La carriére de Suzanne (1963), La collectionneuse (1967), Ma nuit chez Maud (1969), Le genou de Claire (1970)  and L’amour l’aprés-midi (1972). Each of these stories involves a moral choice, a dilemma that puzzles the protagonist, a fork in the road. It’s the serried dialogues between Jean-Louis Trintignat and Françoise Fabian (unforgettable Maud), it’s the obsession focused on the knee of the young attractive (and arrogant) Claire, it’s the thoughts of the three characters of La collectionneuse (a sort of Jules et Jim with colours borrowed from Matisse and Bonnard).

This meditation in six acts is followed by an historical pause, during which Rohmer directs La marquise von (1976, inspired by a novella by Heinrich von Kleist, a beautiful period movie characterised by masterful lighting) and Perceval le Gallois (1978, a heavy adaptation from Chretiens de Troys). These are historical and literary digressions, recaptured by Rohmer toward the end of his career in L’anglaise et le duc (2001).

Once again absorbed in everyday life, Rohmer initiates a second cycle, that of Comedies and Proverbs. If the objective is always the same (a man, a woman, their psychology), the tactic has changed: a folkloristic adage is quoted and presented in the context of a beach in Brittany or in 1980s Paris. The films in this cycle are: La femme de l’aviateur (1981), Le beau mariage (1982), Pauline à la plage (1982), Les nuits de plein de lune (1984), Le rayon vert (1986),  Reinette et Mirabelle (1987) and L’ami de mon amie (1987). All these movies enjoyed the success of critic and public, all were characterised by the Rohmer-trademark: the dialogues chasing each other and interweaving, the simple settings (often beaches, equally often the countryside, an unexpected Paris), the accomplished actors (cleverly directed but also free to improvise in order to convey more spontaneity to the memorable fast-paced dialogues).

Another cycle follows, that of the Four Seasons: Conte de printemps (1989), Conte d’hiver (1991), Conte d’été (1996) and Conte d’automne (1998). The seasons are identified with their colours – the light-blue of the skies of Normandy for Summer, the red green and brown of the vineyards for Autumn. The sensitivity is, by now, familiar: the meditations of a young man caught in his dreams and in his incertitude, two friends in their middle age enjoying themselves in a comedy of misunderstandings (serious, but with a smile). Juggling and balancing.

There are also films outside the cycles. Those Rendez-vous à Paris, in which the structure is still typical of Rohmer. The recent L’anglaise et le duc (2001) from the memoires of Lady Grace Dalrymple Elliot, lover of the Duke of Orléans interpreted by the excellent Lucy Russell. And here Monsieur Rohmer finds one of his strengths: the unequalled taste in choosing the actors. Actors who give an astonishing performance and then disappear (from the screen, not in the memory of the public), such as Haydée Politoff, protagonist of La collectionneuse. But also legends of French cinema: Françoise Fabian (the seductive Maud) and Jean-Louis Trintignat. André Dussolier and Barbet Schroeder, Arielle Dombasle and Pascal Greggory. Some of the actors and actresses are a fetish, especially Béatrice Romand (young in Le genou de Claire, then in Le beau mariage, for which she was awarded the Coppa Volpi in Venice) and Marie Riviére (seen in La femme de l’aviateur and Le rayon vert) both united in the Autumn Tale in a memorable double interpretation. Or young promising actors, such as Melvil Poupaud in the Summer Tale.

Overall the strength of Rohmer’s cinema lays in its delicacy. The ability of recounting the fragility of a relationship, the intensity of an impulse, the complexity of a doubt. Often intertwined with the movements of the body (very observant the director, very refined the actors), the feelings are the real protagonists of the moral debates, of the comedies and the proverbs, of the seasons of life (a passionate summer, a melancholic autumn ending with a smile). A film by Rohmer can be ironic, humoristic, subtly sad, patently intimate – always, however, profoundly human.

The repetition of the themes (lastly disguised in the classical setting of the Astrée by Honoré d’Urfé) was a demonstration of clarity. Awarded in numerous editions of the most prestigious festivals (the lifetime achievement Leone d’Oro dating to 2001), Rohmer never lost his freshness, sometimes joyfully baroque sometimes astoundingly simple.

One day, in an unexpected place, we will find ourselves engaged in a discussion or sharing doubts with archetypal symbolic characters (Frivolous, Gullible, Strong, Ambiguous, Constant) and we will recognise ourselves as characters in one of his movies.

A clear example of this conundrum can be found with a comparison between the overused English word “nice” and its Italian pseudo-counterpart, drugstore “bello/bella”. A comparative observation of the two words puts forward a key of analysis that allows us to draw some cross-cultural lines between Anglophones and Italians.

My first encounter with the word ‘nice’ happened during a daily conversation with the regulars while working as a barman in a North London pub. When speaking about Italy, sovaldi one of the crowd, kept on emphasising how “nice” the country was. It soon became clear to me that there was much more to the word than a mere aesthetic connotation, as my Italian brain was naturally inclined to think. One could of course argue that pub regulars in general do not excel in linguistic variation but I believe that the incidence of the word ‘nice’ is high and that it generally expresses many meanings.

‘Nice’ is all-embracing. It has a wide semantic adaptability which is not paralleled by its Italian counterpart: the use of the former stretches from aesthetic to ethical terms, since it can be referred quite unambiguously to places, people, animals, or situations. The latter, on the other hand, has a rather more fixed meaning, which is usually due to its aesthetic connotations. Nevertheless, ‘bello/bella’ acquires further meanings that are directly linked to the word’s aesthetic sense, which is always maintained regardless of the context in which the word is applied.

The English ‘nice’ is strongly contextual. ‘Nice’ goes equally well with ‘guy’, ‘exhibition’ or ‘pie and mash’. It does not necessarily imply an aesthetic or moral value: its acceptation depends on the context. Pub regulars emphasized the natural beauty of my region by overusing the word ‘nice’, which was better understood standing for both natural and social ‘niceness’. Pub regulars were directly correlating natural to social features, thus manifesting their view on Italy’s knowingly stereotyped lifestyle.

In other words, the English use of ‘nice’ implies an overreaching ‘niceness’. Its use is highly contextual and in this specific case, implies that natural and social ‘beauty’ are strictly interwoven.

Basically, what is pleasant to the eye is also pleasant to your social life.

The term ‘bello’ has, however, a preponderant aesthetic value in the Italian language, since it somehow transcends moral judgement. What is ‘bello’ in Italian is not necessarily good. More importantly, if something in Italian is ‘bello’, it automatically becomes morally pleasant too. What is nice is nice, full stop. Apparently it is a contorted concept, but it clearly comes from the classicist tradition, which appointed beauty the role of moral healer.

I was once talking with a friend on Lake Como banks about  his views on the problems of private and public social consciousness in the region. Despite his total dismay and his thoughts on moving somewhere else, he stated in no uncertain terms that he would never leave just because of the natural beauty by which he was surrounded. As if natural ‘niceness’ could compete with more practical interferences in private and public life.

So, if you are still with me, the Italian ‘bello’ becomes in its turn paradoxically all-embracing, the moral value being originated by the aesthetic starting point.

It seems that the old story repeats itself in various forms: the continental deductive method on the one side, the Anglophone inductive quest on the other.

But it is not negligible that these two simple words, ‘nice’ and ‘bello’, offer us delightful insights to understand two different cultural traditions. Through this linguistic lens, it comes easier to comprehend for instance what is the English collective imaginary on exotic, remote lands and how that is reflected in social dynamics (see colonialism); or, why should Italians consider voting for a Prime Minister which undoubtedly possesses populist ‘niceness’, although lacking in political and legal transparency.

Spices were anything but cheap, so cost is no explanation for their abundance. Rather, spices became so popular because they offered a taste from an enchanted and far-away world and like all other Arabic or Asian luxury goods, they were a privilege of the upper classes only. The higher the rank of a household, the larger its use of spices, with historians often surprised by the percentage of the noble budget that was spent on spices. Spices like pepper, cinnamon or nutmeg were a kind of status symbol, commonly used instead of currency in financial deals. Rent and taxes could be paid in peppercorns and wealthy people were described as… ’sacks of pepper’. Spices were considered gifts fit for the royalty and were kept under lock, like silver, gold and precious textiles.

Most spices of the middle ages are still in use nowadays: pepper, cinnamon, cassia, cloves, saffron, nutmeg, mace, ginger, cardamom (known back then also as amomum), coriander, cumin, sumac, turmeric, anise, mastic, caraway and mustard, created a dazzling symphony of flavours. The popularity of such spices might have changed over the years-for example saffron was a huge favourite back then, nutmeg was… put into everything, cumin was popular among the wealthy… alcoholics because it gave them a pale complexion and the absence of at least a few cloves from a household was considered a huge embarrassment for the host-but they remain essentially the same. Some other favourite medieval spices however, have today fallen into obscurity and are rare in the western world.

Grains of Paradise (otherwise known as Guinea pepper, Malaguetta pepper or alligator pepper) resemble black pepper in taste, but they are less pungent and more aromatic, like a zesty blend of ginger, cardamom and pepper. The seeds, which are brown and triangular, were brought from the Gulf of Guinea to north Africa and from there were taken to Sicily and Italy. The name of the spice is a clever advertising trick, with traders claiming that the seeds grew only in Eden and were collected from the rivers flowing out of Paradise. They were very popular in the 13^th century and were used as a more affordable substitute for black peppercorns. Today, grains of Paradise are mostly unknown outside west and north Africa, although their popularity has been somewhat revived due to their use in raw food diets and by famous chefs.

Zedoary belongs to the same family as ginger and is native to India and Indonesia. Its rhizome has a smell similar to turmeric, mango and ginger. Although it was popular during the Middle Ages, these days it is extremely rare in the western world, having been replaced almost totally by ginger.

Long pepper is a type of pepper with a stronger flavour than black pepper-hot, but with sweet and earthly tones. Dark brown, about 3-4 cm long, it looks like an elongated miniature-pinecone, consisting of a cluster of tiny berries that are embedded in the surface of a flower spike. It was introduced to the Mediterranean from the south and south-east Asia and, as we learn from Antonio Pigafetta in his Magellan’s Voyage, the natives of Indonesia (where long pepper is indigenous) used to call it luli. It was very popular in the classical era and Medieval Europe, but was pushed aside by the New World chilli pepper and has since fallen into obscurity.

Cubeb seeds (tailed pepper) have a warm woody smell, with a flavour that reminds us of allspice and pepper and look like tiny berries with attached stems. It was imported to Europe from Indonesia by-who else?-the Venetians. Cubeb features in a 14^th century moral tale by the Catalan monk Francesc Eiximenis (in Com Usar bé de Beure e Menjar), in which he illustrates gluttony by mocking the habits of a worldly and wealthy member of the clergy who lives a life of luxury abundant with spices. Cubeb is hardly ever found in European markets today.

Galangal is a plant indigenous to China and Java and belongs to the ginger family as well. Its rhizome is not dissimilar to ginger in taste, with a sweet and highly aromatic citrus character. It is widely mentioned in the literature of the Middle Ages for its medicinal properties. For example, the German abbess and polymath Hildegard of Bingen called it ‘the spice of life’ and wrote that it had been sent by God to protect against illness. As a spice it became popular in England from the time of the Crusades, brought back home from the Middle East. It also appears abundantly in The Forme of Cury, a recipe book written by the cooks of Richard II. It is rarely encountered in Europe today, but is still very popular in Thai cuisine. It remains one of the ingredients of Ras al-hanout, the famous Moroccan spice mix, together with grains of Paradise, long pepper and cubeb, interestingly enough.

Spikenard belongs to the Valerian family and has an aromatic rhizome. It is indigenous to the Himalayas. It was used in the Medieval times mostly in recipes for hippocras (spiced wine), featuring both in The Forme of Cury and Le Ménagier de Paris, a medieval guidebook on a woman’s proper behaviour as a wife and housewife.

Was it more the status of spices as luxury products of mysterious origin or their important medicinal properties that made them so desirable in the Middle Ages? Whatever the reason, the combination of limited supply and high demand shot their price up to unprecedented heights. As the first globally traded product, spices were one of the earliest motivations for globalisation. Who knows how different the world as we know it today would be if the quest for new routes to the Far East, to conquer the countries that produced spices, had not led Christopher Columbus, Ferdinand Magellan and Vasco Da Gama to embark on their epic journeys?

So, I decided to give myself a challenge (you can say I didn’t have much else to do that day!) and find everyday English words that have their origins in Greek mythology. I opted for one mythological entity for each letter of the alphabet and I got close enough. I restricted myself to mythology, because this makes it more obvious that the fusion of the languages occurs not only at a linguistic but also at a cultural level. For those who are not easily convinced, there are references for the most unusual words straight from the heart of classical English literature.

Achilles was the son of the sea-nymph Thetis by Peleus and was born mortal. One of the most popular myths explaining how he acquired his invulnerability states that Thetis dipped the baby in the cold waters of the Styx, one of the rivers of Hades (the Underworld), in order to render him invincible. However, the heel from which she was holding him did not touch the water and remained unprotected. Later, during the Trojan War, Achilles died from an arrow wound on his heel.

Thus the expression Achilles’ heel is widely used as a metaphor for an ostensibly small but actually critical weakness.

Eris, the goddess of discord and a big troublemaker, was not invited to the wedding of Thetis and Peleus along with the other Olympians. Out of vengeance, she placed in common view a golden apple with the inscription ‘To the Fairest!’ and naturally the goddesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite started fighting over it. Paris, the prince of Troy, was chosen to decide where the apple should go and in the end he gave it to Aphrodite, after she bribed him with the promise of the most beautiful woman in the world. This woman happened to be Helen, the wife of Menelaus of Sparta, and this incident led to events that started the Trojan War.

The expression apple of discord is often used to describe something attractive that causes arguments between people claiming it. Further, the word eristic is sometimes used for a person who is good at or enjoys stirring up controversy.

Peleus was one of a group of heroes known as the Argonauts, assembled by Jason in order to crew Argo, the mighty fifty-oared ship that transported them on the Quest for the Golden Fleece. Jason, descendent of Aeolus the keeper of the winds, was the rightful king of Iolcus, but the throne was seized by his uncle Pelias. The Quest was a task imposed on him in order to get back the throne that was his by birth. It was said that according to the Delphic Oracle, the land of Iolcus was cursed never to prosper until the fleece of the winged golden ram (which helped young Phrixus and his little sister Helle escape from sacrifice) was brought back to Iolcus from Colchis. After an epic journey that lasted many years, Jason returned to Iolcus victorious.

This is how the word argonaut was introduced to the English language to describe a person who is engaged in a dangerous but rewarding quest.

Further, the expression quest for the golden fleece is used to describe a difficult but ultimately successful mission.

The Muses were the nine daughters of Zeus by the Titaness Mnemosyne and were the goddesses inspiring the creation of music and arts. Their leader was Apollo. Calliope was the muse of Heroic Poetry, Euterpe the muse of Music, Clio the muse of History, Erato the muse of Lyric Poetry, Melpomeme the muse of Tragedy, Polyhymnia the muse of Sacred Hymns, Terpsichore the muse of Dancing, Thalia the muse of Comedy and Urania the muse of Astronomy.

The word muse in English refers to a spirit or person that inspires a creative artist, but is also the root of words such as music, museum, bemuse and amuse.

Orpheus was another famous Argonaut, son of the muse Calliope. Apollo gave him a LYRE and the muses taught him so well that he became the most famous poet and musician of all times. With his heavenly music he could enchant wild beasts, divert rivers and even make rocks and trees dance.

The word lyric has its origin in the lyre.

Halcyon or Alcyone was a daughter of Aeolus. She was married to Ceyx and they were so happy together that they sacrilegiously compared themselves to Zeus and Hera. This of course displeased the Olympians and as punishment, when Ceyx was away on a sea voyage without Alcyone, Zeus threw a thunderbolt and sank the ship. When she learnt about the fate of her beloved, distraught with grief, she drowned herself in the sea, but out of compassion the gods transformed them both into halcyon birds (kingfishers), so they could be together for eternity. Ever since, Alcyone lays her eggs on a floating nest for two weeks during winter and her caring father, Aeolus, keeps the winds restrained and the waters calm in order to keep her and her eggs safe.

The poetic expression halcyon days is accordingly used nowadays to refer nostalgically to a happy and peaceful time. For example, Shakespeare in King Henry VI (~1590) has Joan La Pucelle say: “Assign’d am I to be the English scourge/This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise:/Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon days,/Since I have entered into these wars”.

Zephyrus was the god of the rainy west wind, a soft and gentle wind that is usually the messenger of spring.

Zephyr in English is a somewhat lyrical word for the west wind and an amusing use of it in literature can be found in Jane Austen’s Love and Friendship (1790), where the ignorant heroine is talking about “…the noble Grandeur of the Elms which sheltered us from the Eastern Zephyr.”

Iris was the messenger of the gods, with wings on her feet and a gown of sparkling droplets. She could travel instantly by rainbow and because the rainbow is a sign of rain she is often associated with Zephyrus.

Iris in English is the coloured part of the eye and also is a component of the word iridescent.

According to the Olympian myth of Creation, Gaia (Mother Earth) sprung from Chaos, the original state of the universe before any of the primordial deities appeared. She bore on her own the Sea, the Mountains and then Uranus, the starry sky to cover them. Gaia later mated with Uranus and they are the ancestors of most of the Greek gods. One of their sons was Oceanus, the enormous world river that surrounded the Earth.

In English, the root geo- in words such as geography, geology and geometry originates from Gaia. Chaos and chaotic are words directly derived from the corresponding Greek word and so are ocean and uranic, which refers to the palate (roof of the mouth).

Narcissus was an adolescent of extreme beauty who however was too obsessed with himself to fall in love with any of his numerous admirers. His most persistent suitor, Ameinius, devastated by his scorn and rejection, killed himself at Narcissus’ doorstep, calling on the gods to take revenge for his death by making Narcissus feel the pain of unreciprocated love. The curse was fulfilled when Narcissus fell in love with his own reflection in a spring as clear as silver. Overcome by grief for being denied love’s consummation, he killed himself. A beautiful white narcissus flower sprung up at the point where his blood soaked the earth.

The term narcissism in psychology originates from this myth and narcissus is the botanic name of the genus to which daffodils belong.

Stentor according to the Iliad was a herald of the Greek forces during the Trojan War.

Stentorian is used in English to describe a loud and clear voice. Charles Dickens uses for example this word in Oliver Twist (1838) when he writes“… and a stentorian voice bellowed the driver to stop…”.

(F)Pheme was a daughter of Gaia and was considered the personification of publicising, spreading rumours and propagating news. A tremendous gossiper, she could bring notability to those she favoured and spread scandalous rumours against those she disliked, thus playing a pivotal role in people’s reputations.

The English words fame and euphemism originate from Pheme.

One of the titles applied to Zeus was Xenios, because he was the protector of guests and patron of hospitality.

Xenophobia uses this root.

Another of the several rivers in Hades was the river Lethe. Anyone who drank from its dark waters experienced complete oblivion.

The word lethargy has its root in Lethe, but in literary English Lethe is also used as a metaphor for forgetfulness. For example John Keats in his Ode on Melancholy (1819) urges the reader not to escape melancholy by seeking shelter in oblivion: “No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist/Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;…”.

Tantalus was an intimate friend of Zeus, but after a series of dishonourable actions he was sentenced to death and eternal torment. He suffers from unquenchable thirst and hunger, hung from a fruit tree leaning over a lake. The waves from the lake lap teasingly against his waist, but every time he tries to drink, the water turns to mud at his feet. The tree is covered in delicious fruit, but every time he tries to pick one they move out of his reach.

This myth is where the verb to tantalise originates from, describing the act of making one desire something one cannot have.

A Boukolos or ‘cowherd’ took part in rituals of worship devoted to Dionysus, the god of wine who inspired religious ceremonies that led to ritual ecstasy. The Boukolos, like a priest, was responsible for offering sacrifices, chanting hymns and saying prayers.

This is the origin of the word bucolic, which is used as a synonym to rural. For instance, George Eliot writes in Adam Bede (1859) about “… bucolic minds felt a whispering awe at the sight of the gentry…”. David HR Lawrence describes Clifford in Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1928) as “He had never been one of the modern ladylike young men: rather bucolic even, with his ruddy face and broad shoulders.”, while Virginia Woolf in her essay on George Eliot (1919) writes about “…the very power of her genius to step forth in person upon the quiet bucolic scene” of her books.

King Midas of Crete kept Daedalus and his son Icarus prisoners on the island by keeping all his ships under close guard. Daedalus however, who was one of the greatest craftsmen of all times, improvised two pairs of wings made from feathers held together with wax. After he strapped the wings on himself and Icarus, he warned him neither to fly too close to the sun, because the wax would melt, nor fly too close to the water, because the feathers would get wet. At the beginning Icarus obeyed his father and kept close behind him, but once they were away from Crete and flying over the open sea he got carried away and began soaring towards the sun. Alas, the sun melted the wax and Icarus had a tragic end drowning in the sea.

Don’t fly too close to the sun is used as a warning not to get overconfident when taking a risk, even if things seem to be going well. Icarian is also an adjective used to describe ambitious acts that end in ruin.

For many generations after his death, the cart that once belonged to king Gordias of Phrygia was tied at the same spot with a very elaborate knot known as the Gordian knot. According to an oracle, whoever managed to untie this knot would conquer Asia. Alexander the Great sliced the knot with his sword instead of trying to undo it and fulfilled the prophesy.

This tale is a mixture between legend and history, to be honest, but anyway it is an enchanting story behind a popular expression. Cutting the Gordian knot refers to solving a difficult problem with a bold action. In literature this expression appears in a rather unexpected place: Charles Darwin in On the Origin of Species (1859) writes: “This view cuts the Gordian knot of the dispersal of the same species to the most distant points…”.

Pandora, a creation of Hephaestus the blacksmith god, was a beautiful woman, adorned by the goddesses with many gifts (her name in Greek translates as ‘the one who possesses all the gifts’). A box holding all the Spites that could hurt mankind-such as Old Age, Labour, Sickness, Insanity and Jealousy-was given to her for safekeeping. However, because she was very curious, she could not resist opening the box and unintentionally released all the evils that have been torturing humanity ever since. She managed though to close the box before Hope, which was right at the bottom, could escape and this is why we, mortals, always remain hopeful.

Opening Pandora’s box is used to describe an action that seemed insignificant at the time but led to unpredictable consequences.

Have I managed to convince at least one of you out there to start using the phrase ‘it’s all Chinese to me’? If so, I will consider my mission accomplished. (There are only several hundreds of millions of English-speaking people left for me to convert now…) If not, I hope you at least enjoyed the reading and increased your vocabulary for Scrabble!