A black leather barber’s chair, glowing neon lights, the monotonous hum of electric clippers...
Like the endless stream of football matches on the screen, haircuts are performed, one after the other, with nearly choreographic consistency, curls and tufts of hair falling to the white tiles below, forming growing mounds.
It is for this hair salon, tucked away on a narrow street in the Pigalle quarter of Paris, that some young people cross the entire Île-de-France for a precise, 10-euro haircut.
The story of a slice of suspended time spent before the mirror.
Shot in 16mm and over a guitar western feeling, the film seeks to capture, with an enthusiasm curbed by modesty, a moment off the beaten path, light-hearted yet serious, in which the haircut becomes a chance to self-perfect. Be it the latest trend or the ritual visit, an exercise of savoir-faire and style, the contemplative moment glimpsed in the reflections of the large gleaming mirrors becomes the refrain from another time.
A ballad that has been played by generations before us, the one that leaves us pensive and moved by the feeling that we are heirs to a tradition, the new charismatic gentlemen with the slicked-back dos.
Then comes the closing remark, bringing the flight of fancy to an end. “Bsahtek” – it’s the approval, the compliment, the last word uttered along with the final flourish that concludes the cut.