in The early 1960s, Mylène Demongeot is considered by critics and the general public as well as the great rival to Brigitte Bardot. Suddenly, in full glory, at 27 years of age, who embodied beautifully the evil Milady de Winter in The Three Musketeers decides to give up everything for Marc Simenon, the eldest son of the great novelist, the belgian Georges Simenon.
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today in an original book, L’amour fou (Michel Lafon), packed with anecdotes from filming and enriched by a nice scrapbook – an album of photos and newspaper clippings – signed by the artist Catel, she looks back on a flame out of control, always rejuvenated, always renewed, notably by their common passion for animals.
In an interview without restraint Mylène Demongeot is back on the memories of this love. It evokes a jumble Marc Simenon, his father George, Tigy the mother of Marc, who were witnesses and actors of his obsession burning for this man that she compares to Steve McQueen and the statues of michelangelo.
LE FIGARO. – How is born this love, that you do not hesitate to call crazy in your book, between Marc Simenon and you?
Mylène DEMONGEOT. – Like all great stories, at the beginning, I didn’t want to meet Marc. The first have spoken to me of him, it was my friend, Serge Beauvarlet, a photographer of the band of Roger Vadim. I remember that he had said to me: «This is a guy who would like you a lot. You know he shot a movie «Tabarly». His argument has not convinced me as I answered him: «You’re kidding, it is a son to dad at the con!». And then I bumped without seeing it on a film by Michel Boisrond. Finally, in 1960 at Cannes, I was invited by Georges Simenon, who was the president of the festival, to spend a day with him. Again, there will be no sparks. Marc , I believe to remember, I made a note not very brings on my makeup in the manner of Gina Lollobrigida in Notre-Dame de Paris , and it remained there.
You are telling us that passionate love may very well start under bad auspices…
not necessarily, but it should be a snap. We wait, without knowing, until 1966. And then, it will immediately become obsessive.
what drew you in Marc? Her beauty, her originality, her passion for nature…
A little of everything! But I have to say that it was of striking beauty. He really looked like Steve McQueen. He had broad shoulders, slim waist, strong legs as the David of Michel-Angel. During the first holiday that we spent together, he was going to do the underwater hunting, and come back with a wolf hanging to his belt. This image of the adventurer is unforgettable. And then, I have to confess that our bodies matched perfectly. It is a bit like that, the magic of love.
One can still sum up this love, that will last thirty years, to a single physical passion…
This is true. And I’m often asked questions about the exact nature of the link which united us. There was also certainly a reason for psychoanalysis to this merger. I realized that I had a lot in common with her mother. I loved Tigy, the first wife of Georges Simenon. As soon as I met her, and it was immediately stuck between the two of us. As for me Marc, Tigy was a painter who had given up his career for Georges Simenon while he was a novelist in the making. It is a pity, because I have kept a few of his works, and I can tell you that she had a lot of talent. Marc, who was a frail man, made me turn in knots as he had done to turn his mother crazy. I looked at Tigy finally. And I believe that men like women who remind them of their mother (laughs).
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You mention the friendship you bear to your mother-in-law but thought it would be, according to you, Georges Simenon of your history with his eldest son?
He had always thought that the passion of love was a devastating disease. But this did not prevent him to be immune since he has experienced this with Denyse, his second wife, the mother of John, Peter and Mary-Jo. He complained all the time, saying: «It is one thing to which you can not escape, absolutely terrifying and it is a disease». And I have to say that I am often asked the question: wouldn’t this be a disease? But, despite all that, I do regret never the most beautiful of my disease of love. Ever.
