In your previous film, Signal GPS perdu (FID 2022), you intertwined a search for love between men with a spiritual quest. Was Les beaux visages fostered by your desire to pursue this exploration, or did the idea for this film emerge from different circumstances?
The film took a number of detours. After having made that first film, which is very solitary and introspective, I wanted to turn toward others and work in conversation with others. But yes, deep down, I can say that Les beaux visages was also impulsed by the questions that occupied me during the making of Signal GPS perdu. Meeting Bernard had a profound impact on my life. His approach of spirituality, simplistic and grounded as well as his very direct and honest demeanor, caught my attention. I recognised a great deal of myself in his life: we grew up in the same region, within the same landscape, and some of my experiences resonate with his, even though forty years separate them. At times, I was able to see Bernard as an invisible character in Signal GPS perdu. Although only for a short period of time, in my filmmaker’s imagination: Bernard is far more pragmatic,different, lively, down to earth and whole. Whereas Signal GPS perdu conveys a half-worded dialogue, Bernard speaks with a full, direct and forthright voice.
As we can grasp from his story, Bernard is a discreet person who kept his sexual orientation secret for many years, confiding only in a few close ones. How did you convince him to share his story in this film?
It wasn’t really a matter of convincing him. For Bernard, the film was acceptable as long as what was said was true. However, he often asked: what is the point of this film? The crew and I tried to answer that question in our own words: it’s an important story, both on a personal and societal level, one that deeply resonates with us.
The film is structured in three parts. The reading of Bernard’s autobiography is followed by your discussion surrounding this text and then by a final part in which you return to your first encounter and your friendship. How did you develop this structure?
The structure developed gradually, through a process of experimentation and reflexion.What became clear fairly early on was the necessity of my own presence in the film. With the excerpt that is read aloud, it was difficult to not question the relationship between the person being filmed and the one filming. Bernard’s text acquires a particular tone as he reads it to me. My presence was also important in order to support Bernard as he took this risk, and to bring some air and warmth to the story that sometimes felt like it was heading towards a dead-end. I wanted to contextualise the story and, in a way, remain faithful to what first led me to film Bernard: our friendship. Our relationship existed long before the film and extends beyond it, and this framework gives the story a very specific meaning. In the end, it seems this structure is the opposite of how our film was created. It also makes it possible to vary the approaches and perspectives through which the portrait is drawn.
The film shows that the recount of Bernard’s autobiography is partial, setting aside several periods of his life. Why did you choose these cuts, and what guided them?
A complete and all-encompassing recount of the text on screen seemed impossible to me. Taking this into account, I incorporated the process of selecting passages from the text into the film itself, as a way of grieving a complete recount and also hoping that elements that the reading couldn’t contain might emerge through other means. It was a way of negotiating loss, or an impossible desire, haha! The film also thematised the autobiographical gesture itself: beneath its seemingly rigid forms, a self-account is constantly being renegotiated, put back to work. Here, layers of writing add up: the events were first written by Bernard, then completed and adjusted over time, shaped, through our conversations, into the subject that is in the film and finally reworked through the film’s editing process. One could say that the film retains from the fragments of text what resonates most with me: a collection of portraits that together sketch a sentimental education. This is also the framework imposed by the original text from the beginning, even if it includes other elements and unfolds in greater depth. We tried to highlight this succession of portraits and make a “condensed” version that connects with the film’s other components. Bernard punctuates his text with a sentence that unfortunately, could not be kept in the final cut but that I found magnificent: “ to put it briefly, I would also say that meeting people transforms lives”.
The film is composed of images shot both digitally by Arthur Patain and on 26mm film, which you shot yourself. Why choose to combine these two formats?
At first I couldn’t choose between these two formats. In the end, their combination ended up being one of the film’s cornerstones. The digital image carries the metafilmic layer, set within the apartment it reveals continuities: the reading setup and the face-to-face between Bernard and I marked, from time to time, by oppositions through countershots. The 16 mm amateur images are scattered and jerky, the numerous and disjointed spaces of memory, seen through Bernard and I’s friendship. It’s the place I tried to meet him at.
The landscapes and environment in which Bernard lives, across different seasons, also hold an important place in the film. Why did you choose this counterpoint to the story and to your discussions, and what ideas guided your way of filming the landscape?
Bernard loves to walk: he covers many kilometers surrounded by nature and I wanted to portray this aspect of his life in the film. As for me, I enjoy filming landscapes. We share a love for these spaces. I shot our walks following Bernard’s brisk pace, his hurried footsteps, in contrast to my own. In a sense, I did the very opposite of my previous film, which moved through forests with a solitary, static camera, devoid of any bodies. Here, the camera is mobile, friendly and embodies. The image vibrates between Bernard’s past and the film’s present tense. It tries to find a point from which to listen, where another person’s story can unfold, while the relationship and distance between the one who speaks and the one who listens is tangible.
Although Bernard’s house appears as a place of sharing where the two of you can share experiences, you seem to remain in the role of someone to be trusted without sharing your own experience. Are you keeping that tucked away for a future project?
No, not really. When I think about future projects, I have to say I am more interested in how other people tell their own stories, and I would like to try to contribute to that process. I am also increasingly interested in collective portraits: seeing how members of a group share their collective story.
Interviewed by Marco Cipollini
