1979

Through years of playing diligently with the visible and audible material that presents itself within the four sides of the image, the making of images became my profession. But what should you film all day long? In order to point my camera at other people I have to conquer certain disgust, because the image paralyzes life – limitation and falsification set in immediately. Professionalism is the conquering of that disgust: to wrestle some life from it in spite of that, to get closer to people, to bridge the distance. When I write, I hardly hit upon the problem of disgust. Writing is not my profession; it is an activity to link other activities.

Neorealist films did not seem more realistic because of the masses, the common people, the everyday life. The bourgeois-novel individuals and their psychological analysis are redundant because stories no longer need to be made convincingly plausible. But the old relationship is not merely reversed; the documentary does not gain the upper hand at the expense of the narrative. Rossellini neither relies on the fantastic coincidences of surrealist aesthetics, nor does he leave everything to devices, as cinéma vérité later did. His gaze and that of the camera are combined. A new reality only comes into view through a new way of perceiving.

Selma Baccar’s film opens with a series of portraits of women who have marked the history of Tunisia through the ages. In a theatrical way, Sophonisba, Kahina, Jelajil, and Aziza present themselves to us as the predecessors, through their courageous actions, of this young girl, Fatma, in 1975.

“It’s a sort of acrobatic distance, here in Hedda Gabler, that makes you hold your breath in suspense (the acting is wonderful!) until it should be released by laughter. There’s a spluttering retelling of a wildly unlikely story, a kooky imitation of melodramatic conflicts, a travesty of critical unriddling, offering this extremely slow, calm countercurrent full of rapids and waterfalls.”

Élie Faure tells us that the aging Renoir, when he used to refer to this light in Women of Algiers, could not prevent large tears from streaming down his cheeks. Should we be weeping like the aged Renoir, but then for reasons other than artistic ones? Evoke, one and a half centuries later, these Bayas, Zoras, Mounis, and Khadoudjas. Since then, these women, whom Delacroix – perhaps in spite of himself – knew how to observe as no one had done before him, have not stopped telling us something that is unbearably painful and still very much with us today.

“I started from the idea that the more a woman is traditional, the less she needs an association with folklore in terms of sound. When you come across the image of a person whose clothes and attitude are very “conservative”, there’s no need to associate this person with flutes or tambours. At the end, during the party in the caves, the women dance while singing the most ordinary songs, popular street songs really, and I linked this to the fourth dance of Bartók’s “Dance Suite”. I thought it emphasized the inherent nobility of these women. I got the impression that it was original music, written especially for this moment!”

Assia Djebar’s treatment for La Zerda et les chants de l’oubli [The Zerda or the Songs of Oblivion] (1978-1982): “Without any comment, however, shortly before and during the credits, three known paintings by Delacroix unfold in long shots and in slow pan shots that focus on details of characters, horses or costume elements, each of the paintings linked to an atmosphere of music and fantasia from the pre-colonial Maghreb.”

De neorealistische films leken niet realistischer voor de massa, voor de kleine mensen, voor het dagelijkse leven. De individuen en hun psychologische analyse uit de burgerlijke roman zijn overbodig omdat er geen verhalen meer overtuigend aannemelijk gemaakt hoeven te worden. Maar de oude verhouding is niet zomaar omgekeerd, het documentaire krijgt niet de overhand ten koste van het narratieve. Rossellini vertrouwt niet op het fantastische toeval, de kern van de surrealistische esthetiek, noch laat hij alles over aan de apparatuur zoals later de cinéma vérité deed. Zijn blik en die van de camera worden gecombineerd. Een nieuwe realiteit komt maar in zicht via een nieuwe manier van waarnemen.

“Ik hou dus niet zo van het spectaculaire. Omdat ik denk dat men altijd zo clichématig naar de dingen kijkt dat het zinloos wordt, elke betekenis moet verliezen. En ik vind het geen punt, wanneer een actrice niet echt sterft, om dan ook te tonen dat ze niet echt dood is. Ik denk niet dat je één moment volledig in de personages gelooft. Ze spelen een schijn en dat vind ik iets wat heel belangrijk is om te tonen. Ik vind het niet belangrijk of ze ademt of niet. Maar het is ook niet zo dat ik haar vraag om expres hevig te ademen. Dat laat ik aan het toeval over.”

“Het is een soort acrobatische afstand, die je hier in Hedda Gabler de adem doet inhouden van spanning (er wordt prachtig gespeeld!), tot ie in een lach bevrijd zou moeten worden. Er is een proestend navertellen van een wild-onwaarschijnlijk verhaal, een kolderieke imitatie van melodramatische conflicten, een travestie van de kritische ontraadseling, die deze heel trage, rustige tegenstroming meegeeft vol versnellingen en watervallen.”

“I started from the idea that the more a woman is traditional, the less she needs an association with folklore in terms of sound. When you come across the image of a person whose clothes and attitude are very “conservative”, there’s no need to associate this person with flutes or tambours. At the end, during the party in the caves, the women dance while singing the most ordinary songs, popular street songs really, and I linked this to the fourth dance of Bartók’s “Dance Suite”. I thought it emphasized the inherent nobility of these women. I got the impression that it was original music, written especially for this moment!”