|
Passionate
Patrice Leconte was in
Dublin recently to introduce L'Homme du train at the
2002 Dublin French Film Festival. Film Ireland's Peter
Keogh interviewed the director in his own language on
his new movie, his past work, the state of French cinema and
his thoughts on filmmaking. [Extract]
When Patrice Leconte first became known to Irish
cinema audiences with his Hitchcockian 1989 film M Hire,
he had already been well-established in France for over ten
years. Since that initial Irish hit, he has had more than
his fair share of successes with Irish audiences.
In fact it is unparalleled for a French film
maker: the dream-like Le Mari de la coiffeuse (The
Hairdresser's Husband) (1990), the madcap Tango
(1993), the subversive period drama Ridicule (1996),
the emotionally powerful La Veuve de Saint-Pierre (The
Widow of Saint-Pierre) (2000). These past successes are
about to be joined by L'Homme du train (The Man
on the Train), which features the unlikely pairing of
Jean Rochefort -classically-trained actor with a beautiful
voice - and Johnny Hallyday - Franco-Belgian gravel voiced
rocker. Think of Laurence Olivier sharing a house with Jim
Morrison
To begin with your new
film, L'Homme du train. What was it
like working with these two actors, Jean Rochefort and Johnny
Hallyday?
The
film was created specifically for these two. I often use actors
as a kick start for my imagination, but never so much so as
in this film. For me, putting two actors like Jean Rochefort
and Johnny Hallyday together is dramatic in itself, because
we are forcing together two types of person who should never
meet - luckily, you can do this in a film. What is more, in
real life they had never met before, they didn't know each
other at all. I played the scientist adding a few drops of
Rochefort to some drops of Hallyday and seeing what would
happen.
But even outside
France the film works, for audiences that don't have any idea
who these two actors are.
You're right and,
let me tell you, I think it works even better in countries
where they're unknown. It works better because they see just
the two characters in the film, not the public figures' reputations.
What I feel works
so well is that Rochefort and Hallyday don't fall into stereotypical
versions of their public personas. The film avoids its greatest
danger.
In France, when
people see L'Homme du train, my hope is that after
a few minutes, people will forget who these actors are. At
least abroad, it's easier. When you see this guy getting off
the train, that's all he is: some guy. For non-French audiences,
the movie's impact must be more immediate.
When you make a
film, do you consider a French audience only, or do you think
of a wider, global audience?
I think of myself
first of all.
Right.
To be honest, you
can't make a film thinking of a country, your own or another.
The strange paradox is that I never forget that what I'm making
will one day be shown in a cinema: the lights will dim, on
screen will be this movie and there will be people there to
see it. I never forget that I'm making films for an audience
who should get some pleasure from what they see. But I can't
think of that audience in a generalised way, I can only think
of myself. That is, each time I make a film, I make one that
I would enjoy seeing as a cinemagoer. And I always hope that
what I'll like, others will like too.
But there are cultural
differences between countries. You can never be sure that
your film will be understood by other audiences.
No, never. But let's
take an example. Le Mari de la coiffeuse is a very
French film and also a very personal one. When I shot that
film I spent many sleepless nights worrying that no one would
be interested in it, not even in France, not even my own family.
It was so different. But it was a huge success both in France
and abroad. Who would have thought such a peculiar film would
have such universal appeal? You just can't predict these things.
The same is true of Amèlie, which I didn't make, but
liked a lot.
A film that is very
French...
Yes, but appeals
to people all around the world. It's a mystery how it works,
but all the better for that. I'm sorry for being so talkative
on this subject. Le Mari de la coiffeuse and Amèlie
are very fragile films. When the US puts out its blockbusters,
they think about what will work for a global market. Their
movies are made for that purpose. French filmmakers have to
perform a delicate balancing act. I don't mean to say that
our films are necessarily better. It's just that if a French
film has international success, it's always a bit of a miracle.
Speaking of current
French cinema - there are certain French films which have
become known abroad for the uproar they've provoked. For example,
L'Irrèversible, the films of Cathérine
Breillat.
I don't feel close
to these types of film because when I see them, I have the
feeling that they are consciously made to be provocative.
And this then arouses the interest of journalists and audiences.
I wouldn't be able to make a film with that as its premise,
I'm too naïve. I would always hope to arouse the audience's
curiosity, but not in an unhealthy way. It wouldn't feel right.
Do you think that
Gaspard Noé's films are sick?
Sick, but very brilliant.
L'Irrrèversible is a film which is formally
brilliant. It very successfully achieves its purpose, but
it makes me feel very ill at ease. I know that's done on purpose,
but it's sick.
Returning to L'Homme
du train, there are a number of sequences which are purely
cinematic - almost no dialogue, a juxtaposition of images
with the music and non-naturalistic colours playing a key
role. I felt that these sequences were very strong. Is this
something that came easily, or was it hard to do?
It's often said
that French films are very wordy, and this is often the case.
It's also said that we like to write dialogue and have people
sitting round a table, chatting.
That is the cliché.
And it's not entirely wrong to
say that French cinema is often wordy. I feel that you can
communicate so much through sound and pictures, you don't
necessarily have to use dialogue. In L'Homme du train
you have Jean Rochefort's character who talks all the time,
he wears you out with talk. So it was very important to set
up a silent counterpoint, primarily visual, which conveyed
emotions without using words. I'd love to do a completely
dialogue-free film. Le Mari de la coiffeuse wasn't
that wordy, M Hire and La Fille sur le pont
(The Girl on the Bridge) weren't either. Ridicule
was wordier because of the subject matter.
The
full text of this article is printed in Film Ireland
91
|
