NisimazineTuesday 20Th May 2008

3 A Bilingual magazine created by Nisi Masa, European Network of Young Cinema

25TH torino film fes-tival

Full French and English versions online: www.nisimasa.com

Grown UpsSnijeg

Kornél MundruczóIn partnership with

NISIMAZINE CANNES Tuesday, 20th of May 2008

A magazine published by the NISI MASA association

with the support of the programme ‘Europe for Citizens’

of the EU and of the French Ministry of Health, Youth, Sports and

Associative life. EDITORIAL TEAM

Editor-in-chiefs Matthieu Darras Secretaries of the editorial Jude Lister,

Emilie Padellec English TranslationsJude Lister

French translations +layoutEmilie Padellec

Contributors to this issueEsra Demirkiran, Luca Döme,

Simone Fenoil, Zsuzsanna Kiràly, Johanna Kinnari, Mario Kozina,

Julien Melebeck, Helena Mielonen, Delphine Pinatel Ormsby,

Sebastiano PucciarelliCover’s picture:

Snijeg (Snow) by Aida BegicNISI MASA (European Office)

10 rue de l’Echiquier, 75010, Paris, France.

+ 33 (0)6 32 61 70 26 europe@nisimasa.com

www.nisimasa.com

Editorial Julien Melebeck

Light is God (in Ray Bans)

There is something wonderfully magical in the cinematographic process which means that an idea transformed into a written story, brought to life with a complex mise en scene and image material organised with sound into one coherent suite, and compacted into 5 or 6 film reels, sometimes finds itself in the splendorous party whirlwind of the

Cannes Film Festival. This long process requires a very strong hierarchy concerning the roles of those involved. Once the film is finished and selected for a festival, a new hierarchy is then put in place. Those who have badges and those who beg for tickets in front of the Palais; those who have invitations to attend parties on yachts and in elegant villas and those who pay 6 euros for a pint at the Petit Martinez. Here cinema - and the celebration of it - are not for everyone. Only for the apostles of the 7th art or, alas, those who have enough money to buy anything. Strangely, this inaccessible side gives the medium its aura. The immateriality of this association of photons and audio waves creating an emotion results from the mystic experience. Rendering homage to it with a tuxedo and a glass of champagne is a sort of religious holy sacrament. If the bling bling and sequins are exasperating, the emotion of cinema remains universal. We as journalists are here to witness it, like evangelists in Ray Bans.

The smile of the melancholy pirate’s daughter

On the occasion of her 17th birthday, a father takes his daughter Jeanne to spend the holidays in Sweden. Psychologically

rigid, he has decided to search for the ancient treasure of a Swedish pirate of whom he knows the legend by heart. Things get complicated when a misunderstanding about their reservation obliges them to share the rented house with the owner and his friend. Jeanne is at the age when you smile at boys, when you desire vibrant experiences with a beautiful local blond boy… The film is clear, finely written and graciously directed. The landscapes of coastal Sweden are superb - at the same time exotic and familiar. Darroussin, as always, is impeccable. Anaïs Demoustier is deliciously charming in the role of the ingenious and awkward young girl who just wants to be cool. One scene, in which the father finds himself stuck alone on an island and states that the pursuit of his dream has brought him to an impasse, increases a notch the TV-film tone of the subject. The resolution confirms the will to create a happy ending for everyone, but remains coherent with the story, which could have been a little spicier, a little less ‘first in the class’ cinema - which is nevertheless more than good for a first feature.

Julien Melebeck

Film of the day The grown-upsBy Anna Novion (France~Sweden)

Review Private lessons

By Joachim Lafosse (Belgium)

© www.thebluehourmovie.com

Jonas, a young adolescent with a promising career in professional tennis ahead of him, messes up his studies completely and is forced to sit his school-leaving exams at the

Central Jury as a “free student”. He is taken under the wing of a thirty-year-old and his friends, who are determined to transmit to him their knowledge – and not just of the academic kind. Quickly, Jonas loses his free will, as the coaching deviates towards a sexual initiation. The apprenticeship of the sexual act and its pleasures ends up in practical exercises which are more and more perverse. As in Nue Propriété, the rhythm of the film is very slow. But here the action is above all in the long dialogues, which overwhelm the soundtrack and end up reducing the film to a cold demonstration. The debonair and disembodied aspect of the characters accentuates this somewhat artificial feeling of detachment. The provocative effect of certain scenes at times functions very well, but we never really understand where Lafosse wants to go with his subject and the end is a bit limp. The image is however very beautiful and the actors do their best; but like us, they seem to be asking themselves what they are playing at. Where then did the radical grinding up of the guts of the human soul, which magnificently inspired the previous films of this talented young director, go?

Julien Melebeck

© «Land of Plenty» by Win Wenders (2004)

When your whole reality is based on short internet clips, how can you deal with

extreme emotions when they appear in the real world?

Questions of reality and emotional detachment are closely tied together in Antonio Campos’ Afterschool, which could almost be understood as a film within a film. It is framed in such a way that the gaze of the spectator is not often confronted with that of a character, but of a computer monitor. The digital screen contains scenes of suffering and humiliation, but also of sweetness and love, thus showing something that the real world lacks – emotional detachment.

Review Afterschool

By Antonio Campos (USA)

Interview with: Aida Begić ?? ? ? ?

Mario Kozina

How did you get the idea for the story?A lot of women lost their husbands and fathers

during the war in Bosnia. There were 10 000 men killed during a single day in Srebrenica. The women who survived were suddenly left to take care of themselves. Their tragedy is important because they still haven’t met with the adequate support or understanding.

What does the snow in the title represent?Snow is something that at the same time reveals and conceals. With its white beauty it conceals the dirt of the world, while at the same time it reveals the tracks of the beasts that walk through the woods.

One of the main themes is the relationship between tradition, religion and life in the 21st century. Religion often becomes misinterpreted through tradition and that is why I think they must be differentiated. Alma, the main character, promotes tradition but

not in a regressive way. Her attitude asserts community as a value which shouldn’t be neglected and tends to break the illusion that somewhere else is always better. Alma has the courage and strength to believe in potentials of her country.

Although male characters are mostly absent, the women in Snow manage quite well without them. Could this be interpreted as a critique of patriarchal society?Patriarchal society vanished with the male characters, but its spirit remained. The film itself deals with many issues, but I don’t think it propagates or criticises anything. It merely treats the positive and negative sides of traditions which are a part of life in Bosnia.

Does Snow carry a political message? Today it’s hard to make a film without some sort of political message. Politics have become involved in our lives in such a way that it couldn’t be avoided. By speaking of politics we speak of something which could concern every person in the world.

During its first half, the film’s syntax is innovative and experimental. The composition of frames with non-centred characters and static shots of fragments of human bodies (e.g. only a pair of legs) is often quite provocative. However Campos himself doesn’t believe that the spectator is capable of solving the mystery he has presented. Towards the end, Afterschool sinks into banality, self-efficiency and self-explanations, while its perplexing way of storytelling severely tests the audience’s patience.

Mario Kozina

1 book/1 film

Johnny Mad Dog

A young boy in a white wedding dress carries a machine gun. His fellow soldier, even younger, sings a sad army song beside the dead body of a boy of the same age, with a pair of dirty wings

attached to his back. The incongruity of this scene is a metaphor for the banality of war and the childlike motivations of those who lead it, as well as a picture of a world that has lost it’s innocence.

Johnny Mad Dog is an adaptation of the novel of the same name written by Congo-born Emmanuel Dongala. It tells the story of Laokolé and Johnny, two teenagers growing up in an unnamed war-torn African country.

At 16-years of age, both of them understand the absurdity of the war. The difference is that Johnny stands on the winning side of a rebel army who are celebrating their successful coup with a series of lootings, killings and rapes, while Laokolé is running to save her life.

In the book, the two often find themselves in analogue (if not the same) situations, which Dongala uses to show the many sides of war - its manipulation, destruction, and the emotional and physical violence inflicted upon its losers. A dynamic and brutal work, the first person narration nevertheless opens room for humour (Johnny Mad Dog’s picture of himself ), and even irony (especially when Western involvement is concerned).

In the film, the analogies between Dongala’s characters become oversimplified and the intellectual/emotional/ideological contrast between them loses its strength. Unfortunately, this isn’t compensated by the visuals. Exotic African locations rich in colour and textures are contrasted with the brutality of war by using a hand-held camera and rapid editing, but the original emotional involvement, criticism and irony has been lost somewhere along the way.

Mario Kozina

Into the festivalEuropean network of young cinema

N I S I M A S A CARTE BLANCHE IIIIII NISI MASA IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAT CANNES IIIIIIIIIIIIIIScreening of European Short Films

47th Critics’ WeekCannes Film FestivalWednesday 21st of May 2008 at 15.00Espace Miramar – 35, rue Pasteur

More information II 33 (0)6 06 89 94 02 02 II europe@nisimasa.com II www.nisimasa.com

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Reportage Memory and Hope: Lebanese Wars

Lebanon has faced long periods of martial law during the past few

decades. This year at Cannes two films present not only these wars themselves, but the human memories and hopes related to people’s experiences of them. Waltz with Bashir, an animated documentary directed by Ari Folman and I Want to See, a documentary feature film made by Joana Hadjithomas and Khalil Joreige, introduce us to different stories of conflicts lived through in the same region, in different time periods.

In Waltz with Bashir, Folman investigates a black hole in his memory that goes all the way back to 1982, and the massacres in Southern Lebanon. An ex-Israeli soldier, the brutal wartime experiences have been wiped from his mind. He starts to explore his own past by making a series of interviews which build up, little by little, pictures of Ari’s and his friends’ experiences. Using captivating hand-drawn animation as a tool for storytelling, Waltz with Bashir is a thought-provoking and strong emotional journey into the human memory.

I Want to See documents another journey - through the remains of Beirut after the heavy bombings on the city in 2006. Lebanese directors Joana Hadjithomas and Khalil

Joreige collaborated with Catherine Deneuve, who visited Lebanon wanting to see how it was there after the conflicts. In the film, Deneuve meets another Lebanese director, Rabih Mroué, in Beirut, and their road story soon transforms into a trail following his recollections and an exploration of the recent history of the region. The reportage-like style of the film, the scenes of destroyed buildings, the film crew’s appearance on the scene… I Want to See involves the spectator as if they were

watching footage from their own past.

A director finding his own history in Waltz with Bashir by talking to former comrades, in contrast with a real visit to the region where the director lived and experienced the war in I Want to See. The former fills in the blanks in the protagonist’s mind through other people’s memories, while the latter creates a physical blank which only the individual’s memory can fill - the street of Rabih’s childhood does not exist anymore. Whether the destruction of war leaves holes in people’s psychological landscapes or in their real physical environments, sooner or later these spaces will start to rise back up to the surface.

It is clear that French editor Tristan Meunier – who earned the nickname ‘‘serial cutter’’ when he suggested cutting the whole first scene of one of the

first short films he was working on – is passionate about his job.

He has worked with Rohmer and the Dardennes brothers and edited countless other features, shorts and documentaries. After six years in the business he says he understands why so many stop. Every month, every project is a new negotiation. “Editing is like ping pong”, he comments, “It’s an exchange of ideas. You return the ball that the director sends… I’ve done my job if the director says he got the film he was after’’.

One can imagine Tristan as the fairytale character who comes in during the night to fix the shoes that the shoemaker needs to repair. He tells how in editing you need to be a good psychologist, diplomat, and partner: ‘‘There are three in the editing room - the director, the editor and the movie: the director’s baby”.

Like many young editors, Tristan reads Walter Murch (editor of Apocalypse Now) to find out what the job of the editor is actually about, although he clearly has views of his own – essential when you close yourself in a darkroom to bring stories alive.

Atso Pärnänen

Esra Demirkiran & Helena Mielonen

Interview - “In the credits” Tristan Meunier ?? ? ??

Waltz with Bashir

Memory and Hope: Lebanese WarsWork in progress

Shooting a film on Andreotti is like making a film on a symbol: no matter if the main character is still alive and amongst us. Even if it’s a little bit strange

for a biopic, in a way it’s a perfect fit with the character.

One of the main examples (if not the first) of Italian biopic cinema dates back to 1974: the year that Roberto Rossellini directed one of his most controversial films, Year One. It is the story of Alcide De Gasperi, founder of the Democrazia Cristiana (‘Christian Democracy’) party in the years following World War II. The ‘political biopic saga’ continued with The Moro Affair and Good Morning, Night, dedicated to another Italian leader, Aldo Moro (related to the Democrazia Cristiana, as De Gasperi and Andreotti), ending with The Caiman by Nanni Moretti, dedicated to Silvio Berlusconi.

These political characters incarnate history. They are transfigured into symbols - snapshots of their particular time and country.

Thus the snapshot of De Gasperi that Rossellini creates evokes the rise of a nation. Rather than the sanctification of a politician, it is the portrait of a defeated country which is learning how to find the energy and the dignity to rise up from the dust.

In the same way, two different films dedicated to Aldo Moro don’t really describe the man, nor his story as a politician, but take what happened to him (his kidnapping by a group of revolutionary Communists at the end of the 70s) as a pretext to describe that particular moment in Republican history. The Moro Affair (by Giuseppe Ferrara) is a perfect reconstruction of his kidnapping and death; Good Morning, Night (by Marco Bel-locchio) tries to investigate the deeper meaning of what happened, showing the short-circuit of an ideology. In both cases, the personal story of Aldo Moro is kept in the background. What he did, his actions as a politician… everything is less important than what happened to him. His tragic death gives him a new, most important value: so important that it erases him as a man. Perhaps this is the real destiny of certain politi-cians. They became a symbol, no longer a human figure.

The Caiman is a perfect representation of this. It’s not a film on Berlusconi, but on the repre-sentation of Berlusconi - several versions of him, each one at the same time true and fake. When Italy becomes a berlusconian country, the figure, the man, becomes difficult to des-cribe in a unique, complete way.

So what kind of snapshot of the Giulio Andreotti symbol will arise from Il Divo? In the

The Ambiguous Charm

Simone Fenoil

Rossellini film on De Gasperi, the controversy was connected to the different interpretation he gave to the historical facts. Concerning Andreotti however, the historical facts are already uncertain, evanescent…

He was appointed Prime Minister seven times (his last premiership ended in 1992) and was part of almost all of the governments of the first 40 years of the Republic as of 1948, the year in which he co-wrote the Italian Constitution. Made a senator for life at the end of 1991, he was then on the path to becoming President of the Republic when the killing of Falcone and the first rumours of his connection with the mafia forced him to give up this dream.

From this point a lot of aspects are ambiguous and undefined: he went under enquiry for the murder of a journalist (condemned and then declared innocent), associating with the mafia (found guilty but not condemned because the facts were far too old) and was suspected of a strange connection with the ‘Golpe Borghese’ plan (a failed coup d’état) in the 70s… If cinema has always been a mirror of society, it will be very interesting to see a reflection of this contemporary Italy - which seems to have a particular need for heroes, but which in the meantime is so deeply charmed by the most ambiguous aspects of the men of power.

Coin du court

Rose pink from her lips to her motor scooter, the young Amélie Poulain-esque Virginie (Jeanne Cherhal) gives a touch of colour to the copy shop

of her boss, the taciturn Monsieur Conforme (Serge Riaboukine). This greyish universe becomes, in the blink of an eye, the memory of a vanished love: a woman of whom the only remaining trace is an old photograph.

Oscillating between musical comedy and drama, Nicolas Engel dresses his second short film with an anthology of assured references. One thinks notably of L’Amour en fuite by Truffaut, the naturalist tendency of Jacques Demy, or the playful side of Rivette.

However, these beautiful promises are a bit disappointing. We regret the lack of aesthetic and narrative coherence, which sometimes gives the impression of watching a juxtaposition of discordant short comedy plays. The intrigue never reaches the dramatic intensity expected (however strongly underlined by the artistic direction – mise en scene and soundtrack), and unfortunately gets lost in irrelevant details.

We can note however the poetic usage of the urban framework (the staid French town of Angoulême ‘pop art-ised’) and some notes of freshness lessening the feeling of confusion emanating from the film.

By Nicolas Engel (France)La copie de Coralie

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PICTURE OF THE DAY Delphine Pinatel Ormsby

Be careful what you wish for.

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French producer Christophe Rossıgnon has a

pragmatıc view of hıs profession. Cinema is first and foremost a business. A producer offers the enterprise and structure for the overall production of a film, bringing together the collective that is necessary to realise it. Besides the financial

aspect he also has to focus on the individuality of the artist. But the bigger the company gets, the more responsibilities and productions have to be handled over the year, which unfortunately prevents him from supporting young talents and their first films. Christophe Rossignon’s personal approach to

production however is acting as an artist, because he wants to tell storıes about the rıichness of life in cinema, without judging, without repeating himself. Being asked to give young fılmmakers advice, he simply anwers to go your own way.

Zsuzsanna Kıràly

Professional meeting

3 questions to

F irst time in Cannes?I’ve been already last year, but only for one day and I had no

place to stay, so I slept on the beach. I had no pass so, to get in to watch Ocean’s 13, I took the car park behind the main entrance and incredibly there was nobody around!

So in the style of the film… and what about this year? Is there any film you can’t wait to see?I really like Kusturica’s work so I’m expecting a lot from his documentary about Maradona. The problem is I don’t like football, so let’s see if the film is powerful enough to overcome my lack of interest for the subject.

Would you call yourself a cinéphile? Originally the word was strongly related to the idea of changing the world through cinema. Do you think this still makes sense today?I can see myself as a cinéphile: I work in a cinema theatre, so I can watch all the movies I want. About changing the world through cinema… Cannes is a good example, bringing together people from all over the world and giving them a chance to show and share what they’re touched by through film.

Tania Laniel

Tania, 19, and studying cinema in Rennes, just decided to put aside her dream of becoming an actress, but somehow she’s already working in the movies. She can even teach you how to sneak into the Palais…

Christophe Rossignon

© Photo by Johanna Kinnari

I want to see Joana Hadjithomas & Khalil Joreige (Lebanon~France)

If mother Deneuve wants to see the damage in South

Lebanon, all very well and good. But why inflict on us this pretentious docu-fiction road movie which doesn’t ring true in any way? None of the protagonists seem to understand what they should be doing and inevitably fall into ridicule. The whole is weighed down by repetitive travelling shots accompanied by the edifying commentary of Catherine Deneuve addressed to the Lebanese driver: “Ah in your country at least you can still smoke everywhere!”, “You

didn’t put your seatbelt on!” and “When will you go back to being a little more disciplined in your country?” If you must propagate such nauseating reactionary Parisian subject matter, better to do a TV programme (or nothing at all) and leave cinema to films like Waltz with Bashir.

Julien Melebeck

THE BIG SWINDLE

By Sebastiano Pucciarelli

(Producer)

Portrait

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Kornél Mundruczó, a young Hungarian director still early on in his career, has already drawn the attention of many critics with one of his first

short films Afta, both in his home country and internationally. At the age of 33 he has now completed his fourth feature film, Delta, which premieres in the official competition at Cannes this year.

He began his university years as an actor, studying dramatic arts, but could never accept limiting himself to being only a performer. Thus right after graduating, as the result of a complex and unconscious process, he started his film directing education. However theatre, being a medium which leaves it mark, remained an influence in his art. He took it as a challenge to overthrow the outdated reign of traditional staging with his experimental works.

He thinks funny the superficial approach through which people judge him - on the basis of legends wherein he is mentioned as a man who throws actors into the cold Danube or makes them sleep with an axe. In spite of public opinion he finds it surprising that a ‘Mundruczó film’ is often identified with something brutal. His claim might be true: the aesthetics he works with may seem realistic and tough - especially in his early films This I Wish and Nothing More and Pleasant Days, which amongst other prizes was awarded the Silver Leopard in Locarno – but if you look deeper into his world you can discover its beauty.

One of his most courageous, daring and original short films was Joan of Arc on the Night Bus - selected in the Directors’ Fortnight in 2003. It was later developed into the feature film Johanna, presented in Un Certain Regard in 2005. “I felt I should direct an opera to see what film could do with it. I admire this genre and still think I have to deal with it in the future. It is good for the soul”, he says. The film has proven that there is a higher interest for opera than was supposed before.

However, these weren’t Mundruczó’s sole visits to Cannes. He was invited to the Cinefondation scriptwriting scholarship in 2003, and the following year his short Little Apocrypha No. 2 was selected for the Cinefondation section. 2003 was also the year he received the Balázs Béla Hungarian national cultural award. Another interesting point in his career was his participation in the project Lost and Found, together with other eastern European directors including Stefan Arsenijvic, Cristian Mingiu and Jasmila Zbanic. The project was based on the idea that the sense of a common bond determined by belonging to a certain generation, and so reaching beyond national borders, opens up new perspectives on traditions, history and one’s own personal experiences.

He says “I have aesthetic aims, to make real emotions come to life on the screen and not to let dramaturgy be the primary engine, a cinema in which things are happening inside the actors, a cinema which has truth and not story.” In Mundruczó’s films we see the human side of the actors. However his visions – as evidenced by his other works – are poetic fictions and not realism. He values most those films which can change one’s attitude towards the universe, give you an experience which allows you to live and think onward, infiltrate into your cells. According to him two good examples of this are Fassbinder’s Fear Eats the Soul (Angst essen Seele auf) and Bergman’s The Silence.

His latest film Delta contains the themes of forbidden love and the lack of tolerance, following the story of a man who returns to his home village after many years of absence and is drawn into an intense romantic relationship with his own sister. While watching it we feel a rhythm through which we can almost breathe in the elements of the film and get inside the characters’ psyche. On the various passionate reactions to his film the director calmly remarks, “The important thing is that every film’s end is created by the viewer.”

Kornél Mundruczó, jeune réalisateur hongrois à l’aube de sa carrière, a déjà attiré sur lui l’attention de nombreux critiques hongrois et internationaux grâce à l’un de ses courts

métrages Afta. Agé de 33 ans, il revient aujourd’hui sur le devant de la scène avec Delta, son quatrième long métrage, présenté en première mondiale en Compétition Officielle.

A l’université, il suit d’abord des cours d’art dramatique avant de se rendre compte qu’il ne pourra pas limiter sa vie aux seules planches de théâtre. Son diplôme en poche, il démarre ainsi un cursus en réalisation. Une décision résultant à la fois d’une mûre réflexion et d’une envie quasi inconsciente. Bien sûr, le théâtre ayant été pour lui une expérience marquante, il demeure une influence importante dans la suite de son œuvre. Se servir des méthodes utilisées dans ses travaux expérimentaux, va notamment lui permettre de tourner le dos au règne obsolète de la mise en scène traditionnelle.

La vision déformée que les gens ont de lui l’amuse – une vision forgée d’après d’étranges légendes. Tel jour, il aurait jeté l’un de ses acteurs dans l’eau froide du Danube. Telle nuit, les voilà forcés de dormir avec une hache à leur côté. A contre-courant de l’opinion publique, les ‘films à la Mundruczó’ sont souvent jugés comme brutal ; ce qui surprend notre homme. Il n’a peut-être pas tort sur ce point car bien que son esthétique semble à première vue réaliste et dure – ceci, particulièrement dans ses premiers films This I Wish and Nothing More et Pleasant Days (qui s’est vu décerné entre autres le Léopard d’argent à Locarno) – en y regardant de plus près, la beauté de son univers se dévoile à nous.

Courageux, osé et original, son court métrage Joan of Arc on the Night fut sélectionné à la Quinzaine des Réalisateurs en 2003. Ce film donna plus tard naissance au long métrage Johanna, présenté lui à Un Certain Regard en 2005.

« J’ai pensé que je devais diriger un opéra et voir comment explorer les liens entre opéra et cinéma. C’est un genre que j’admire et je suis persuadé que je viendrai à retravailler avec dans le futur. C’est bon pour l’âme », dit-il. Contrairement aux idées reçues, le film a montré à quel point l’opéra peut susciter la curiosité. Ce ne fut pas là la seule participation de Mundruczó au festival de Cannes. En 2003, il bénéficie en effet de la bourse de développement de l’Atelier Cinéfondation, et l’année suivante son court métrage Apocrypha No. 2 est sélectionné dans cette même section. 2003 fut aussi l’année où il reçut le prix culturel Hongrois Balázs Béla. Autre point intéressant de sa carrière : sa contribution au film collectif Lost and Found, aux côtés d’autres réalisateurs d’Europe de l’Est, tels Stefan Arsenijvic, Cristian Mingiu et Jasmila Zbanic. Ce projet est basé sur l’idée qu’appartenir à une même génération permet aux hommes de tisser entre eux des liens, au-delà des frontières nationales, leur offrant de nouvelles vues sur l’histoire mais aussi sur leurs traditions ou expériences personnelles.

A ses yeux, ses « objectifs esthétiques sont de faire vivre à l’écran des émotions réelles et non pas de laisser la dramaturgie prendre le dessus, de créer un cinéma où les acteurs vivent des choses à l’intérieur d’eux-mêmes. Un cinéma vrai, authentique ». Dans les films de Mundruczó, l’humanité des acteurs est perceptible. Cependant, son univers penche plutôt du côté des fictions poétiques que réalistes. Il privilégie ainsi les films qui peuvent changer notre attitude face au monde, qui ont le pouvoir de nous faire penser et vivre plus intensément, des films qui atteignent le plus profond de l’âme, Pour lui, deux bons exemples seraient Fear Eats the Soul (Angst essen Seele auf) de Fassbinder et Le Silence de Bergman.

Son dernier film, Delta, traite d’amour interdit et de manque de tolérance. Après plusieurs années d’absence, un homme revient dans son village natal et se découvre une sœur. Une intense relation romantique nait entre eux. En voyant le film, un rythme particulier, un sentiment de proximité, s’infiltrent chez le spectateur, capable alors de s’immiscer dans la psyché des personnages. Interrogé sur les nombreuses réactions passionnées suscitées par Delta, Kornél répond avec calme, préférant mettre en avant le pouvoir créateur du spectateur à donner aux films leur sens final.

Luca Döme

À Cannes RivieraStand WBI - A2T +33 (0) 4 92 99 88 11

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Communauté française de BelgiqueBoulevard Léopold II, 44 - B-1080 Bruxelles

T +32 (0)2 413 22 19

www.cfwb.be/av

c’est belge !

BE MOVED BY BELGIAN MOVIES…

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