Françoise Dorléac, Catherine Deneuve's sister, obsessed me throughout my teenage years on the strength of three movies and a glamorous photo-spread of the two sisters in Look magazine. The three movies were Truffaut's La Peau Douce, de Broca's L'Homme de Rio and Polanski's Cul-deSac. In each of them Dorléac was a luminous presence — she had more than a little of her sister's remote mystery but without the barriers that seemed to forbid an approach to that mystery.
Photos of the sisters together suggested a kind of hall of mirrors, as though you were seeing multiple sides of the same woman from different angles.
Dorléac died in a car crash near Nice in 1967, when she was 25 years-old. The crash created an explosion and Dorléac could only be identified by some personal possessions in the car that survived the fire.
She has haunted my imagination ever since. Whenever I see images of Deneuve, I see the image of Dorléac's ghost in her face.