After acting school he was discovered by Jean Cocteau and appeared in a wartime production of Les parents terribles ("The Terrible Parents"). His first feature film came in 1946 with his role in Les portes de la nuit ("The Doors of the Night"). He later went on to perform in 80 films including The Pianist (1998).
In 1965 he began a second career as a singer, with the help of Simone Signoret and her husband Yves Montand. Reggiani became one of the most acclaimed performers of French "Chanson" ("song") and although he was in his 40s, his bad-boy image made him popular with both young and older listeners. His best known songs include "Les loups sont entres dans Paris" ("The Wolves Have Entered Paris") and "La femme qui est dans mon lit." ("The Woman Who Is In My Bed").
In later life he became a painter and gave a number of exhibitions of his artwork.
Serge Reggiani died of a heart attack at the age of 82, one day after the death of another well known French singer Sacha Distel. He is interred in the Cimetière du Montparnasse.
Jean des brumes
Serge Reggiani Lyrics
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Au premier jour de la neuvaine
Dans ce hameau de Pont-Aven
Ou nos jeunesses cavalaient...
Entre sarcasmes et chapelets
Il faisait naître sur ses toiles
De drôles d'étés, de drôles d'étoiles,
Il avait des cheveux d'archange
Et ce regard vers l'intérieur,
Cette lumière supérieure
Qui vous pénètre et vous dérange
Sa gueule bouffée par ses yeux
Portait l'empreinte des embruns
Et son pinceau brûlait sa main
Et sa main barbouillait du feu...
C'était Jean des brumes,
Un marin de terre
Avec son costume
D'amertume et de mystère
C'était Jean des brumes,
Un géant botté
De plomb et de plumes
Je suis passé à côté...
Ce n'était pas un peintre, non
Ce n'était qu'un témoin d'amour
Un assassin de vieux discours
Qui se foutait d'avoir un nom...
Quand il nous a quittés, c'était
Le dernier jour de la neuvaine
Mais le clocher de Pont-Aven
Depuis qu'il s'est flingué se tait...
C'était Jean des brumes
Un marin de terre
Avec son costume
D'amertume et de mystère...
C'était Jean des brumes
Moi j'avais quinze ans
Son aura posthume
Me suit encore à présent
Tous les Jean des brumes
Sont toujours lestés
De plomb sous les plumes
Il ne l'a pas supporté ...
Une vie s'allume
Une vie s'éteint
Comme Jean des brumes
Parfois je hais les matins....
Jean des brumes
The lyrics of Serge Reggiani's song Jean des brumes tells the story of a man named Jean, who comes to a small town in Pont-Aven to paint. Despite facing skepticism and ridicule, Jean manages to create beautiful paintings of strange summers and stars. He is described as having angelic hair and a gaze that penetrates and disturbs. His face is weathered but his hands hold burning brushes that give life to his artwork. Jean is a man of mystery and bitterness, who dresses like a sailor despite never having set foot on a ship.
Reggiani sings that Jean is not simply a painter, but a witness of love and an assassin of old ways of thinking. Unfortunately, Jean could not bear the weight of the world and extinguished his own life. The song suggests that his death silenced the church bell, as if mournful for the loss of a great artist. The singer remembers Jean fondly - even now, the aura of this enigmatic figure follows him.
The lyrics of Jean des brumes are poignant and emotional, telling the story of a tortured soul who expressed himself through painting. The song is a tribute to artists who create despite adversity and pain, and whose legacy lives on long after their death.
Line by Line Meaning
Il a posé son chevalet
At the beginning of a nine-day period of prayer, he arrived at the village of Pont-Aven, where we used to play, and set up his painting easel.
Entre sarcasmes et chapelets
With a combination of sarcasm and rosary beads, he created on his canvas strange summers and strange stars, while we ran on the pebbles of the shore.
Il avait des cheveux d'archange
He had the hair of an angel and an inward-looking gaze that held an otherworldly light that could penetrate and disturb you.
Sa gueule bouffée par ses yeux
His face, swollen by his eyes, was marked by the salty sea breeze, and his brush burned in his hands as he painted flames on his canvas.
C'était Jean des brumes, Un marin de terre
He was Jean of the mists, a sailor on land dressed in a costume of bitterness and mystery.
Ce n'était pas un peintre, non
He was not just a painter, but rather a witness of love, a killer of old conventions, who did not care about fame.
Quand il nous a quittés, c'était Le dernier jour de la neuvaine
On the last day of the nine-day period of prayer, he left us, but the bell tower of Pont-Aven had been silent ever since he shot himself.
C'était Jean des brumes Moi j'avais quinze ans
He was Jean of the mists, and I was just fifteen years old, but his posthumous aura still follows me.
Tous les Jean des brumes Sont toujours lestés
All Jean of the mists are always weighed down by the lead of their creativity and the feathers of their imagination, which can be too heavy to bear.
Une vie s'allume Une vie s'éteint
One life is lit, and then it is snuffed out, like Jean of the mists, and sometimes, I hate mornings for that reason.
Contributed by Arianna Y. Suggest a correction in the comments below.