Jean-Luc Godard once observed of Bertrand Tavernier that they shared a common origin: as children of "the Libération and the Cinémathèque" they came of age in the turbulent 1960s (qtd. in A Journey Through French Cinema (Voyage à travers le cinéma français, Bertrand Tavernier, 2016)). Tavernier, who died in March of this year, is an appropriate filmmaker to commemorate in this Introduction to an issue of Alphaville dedicated to themes of memory and the past. In a career spanning seven decades, he produced work that investigated, appraised and revealed the role that the past-and what gets remembered and what gets forgotten-plays in the shaping of individual identity and collective culture.In his 2016 documentary, A Journey Through French Cinema, Tavernier shared a memory of a seminal incident from his childhood: my parents took me out to the terrace that overlooked Lyon. I was three years old, it was September '44. And I saw lots of flares lighting up the sky. They announced the entrance of troops liberating Lyon. American and French troops. All around me people were laughing and clapping. It was a festive atmosphere. And I've never forgotten that sight. I've never forgotten that light in the sky. And when I went to the cinema and suddenly light filled the screen and the curtain opened, I thought of the lights in the sky. The screen about to light up symbolised in a way the hope I sensed around me.A vivid anecdote, recollecting a moment in which long years of dark trauma were eclipsedalbeit fleetingly-by the flares of the Libération, segues here into a remembrance of the joy of cinemagoing. This formative memory, related at the start of a documentary that offers a personal journey through the labyrinths of French cinema, contains revealing associations-of past and present, trauma and liberation, light and dark-that would go on to inform Tavernier's career as filmmaker, writer and advocate for film preservation. They underpin, too, the core considerations of the essays and the podcast that make up this Issue.