‘I’ve Stopped Looking for the Truth’: Lionel Baier Debuts New Clip for His Berlin Competition Title ‘The Safe House’ (EXCLUSIVE)

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In the film “The Safe House” (or “La cache”), directed by Swiss filmmaker Lionel Baier, Paris during May 1968 takes on a significant role. It’s not just a setting; it becomes part of the story. This film is based on Christophe Boltanski’s novel, “La cache,” which won the Prix Femina, and was produced by Bande à Part Films, with co-production from Red Lion, Les Films du Poisson, RTS Radio Télévision Suisse, and SRG SSR. This makes it a collaboration between French, Swiss, and Luxembourgish filmmakers. The comedy-drama, premiering at Berlinale, focuses on an unusual family, with Baier serving as the keen observer.

In this production, Dominique Reymond takes on the role of the Grandmother, Michel Blanc (who passed away) portrays Père-Grand, or the Grandfather. William Lebghil is cast as the Great Uncle and Aurélien Gabrielli as Little Uncle. Liliane Rovère plays Hinterland, while Adrien Barazzone and Larisa Faber depict the boy’s parents, with Ethan Chimienti as the mentioned child. Gilles Privat also becomes a significant part of the cast in a supporting role.

Baier’s movie starts off quoting from the book: “In a pure world, you need to be impure. Bacteria safeguard us.” These words drift over a scene where a young boy, armed just with a flashlight, investigates hallways filled with books, treasured keepsakes, and even a tiny Citroën. As his parents are out on the streets participating in student demonstrations, he finds joy in his distinct world within the apartment.

Inside its cozy confines, the apartment serves as a miniature time capsule of eras past, brimming with history and familial mysteries. The boy’s uncles, a visual artist and an intellect in the making, lend their unique touch to the space, while Hinterland, his vibrant great-grandmother, portrayed by Liliane Rovère at 92 years old, shares tales of her Odessa home, Prokofiev, and an extraordinary life. As laughter fills the air and secrets are shared in hushed tones, ordinary items take on deeper meanings: a jazz melody sets the rhythm, and eventually, a surprise guest unveils a family wrestling with their past as Paris struggles to define its future.

Lionel Baier spoke with EbMaster prior to the film’s Berlin world premiere.

In the opening scene of the movie, the line “In a pure world, you must be impure. Bacteria safeguard us” is presented. This statement serves as a metaphor in the context of the film, suggesting that even in a pristine environment, there’s always something essential and necessary that may seem contrary or undesirable. In this case, bacteria are crucial for our survival.

As for the tone it sets for the narrative, the paradoxical statement introduces an element of surprise and intrigue, which is further echoed throughout the story with its blend of humor, historical accounts, and personal recollections. The juxtaposition of seemingly disparate elements creates a unique and engaging atmosphere that invites viewers to ponder about the interconnectedness of things in life, just as bacteria are essential for our existence yet often perceived as harmful or unsightly.

The quote from the novel suggests that Grandfather shields himself from evil by domesticating it instead. We should not fear it but rather harness its power for good. It’s also a cautionary note: recall that cleanliness has led to some of history’s greatest atrocities. Embrace the grime, in truth, it’s an issue in modern cinema – streets are excessively clean, making it difficult to capture dust and haze in shots. This is quite anachronistic in “The Safe House.” For instance, the air of Paris in 2024 appears too clear on screen. You can hardly see it. And the walls are overly white.

In this movie, the jazz score, vibrant color schemes, and humorous references to things like Prokofiev’s music and classic Citroën cars function as cultural markers. Could you elaborate on how the music and visual elements contribute to reinforcing the film’s themes of ancestry, selfhood, and metamorphosis?

For the first time, I’ve collaborated with composers on a soundtrack, and Diego, Nora, and Lionel Baldenweg did an exceptional job of both composing and improvising. I aimed to capture the essence of breath within the instruments themselves, allowing the audience to hear the wind flowing through brass instruments, the piano hammers striking the strings. I wanted a raw, unpolished sound, reflecting the 80% of the film that was shot in a studio. My admiration for Keith Jarrett, who began his renowned piano solos at this juncture and is currently touring Europe, influenced my decision. Additionally, there’s a sense of freedom in music, much like what Miles Davis conveyed in Louis Malle’s Ascenseur pour l’échafaud years prior.

How did you translate the deeply personal nature of ‘La Cache’ by Christophe Boitanski into a screenplay, and which parts or ideas from the book did you consider essential for your movie?

I found Christophe Boltanski’s book captivating because, like all exceptional authors, he makes his personal experiences feel universal, as if he’s narrating our own stories. Consequently, I blended my recollections with his. Interestingly, the events of May ’68 are only briefly mentioned in the book. The scene I wanted to depict in a film was when the car malfunctioned just a few kilometers from Odessa. While the circumstances aren’t identical to those in the book, I appreciated the concept of prioritizing Odessa as told by the great-grandmother over actuality. I took similar liberties with my family’s history. Now, I no longer seek the truth; instead, I create a version that seems more compelling to me.

In the context of the events of May ’68, the movie skillfully blends the turbulent atmosphere of significant demonstrations with the unique dynamics of a quirky household. How did you manage to harmonize these two storylines – public events and personal recollections – in your interpretation?

The 1968 revolution served as a profound expression of the deep-seated French psyche. After the war, General de Gaulle dismissed the Vichy regime as inconsequential to France’s grand narrative, advocating for its erasure from history. However, May ’68 ignited passions that could not be quelled so easily. Young people sought answers, while their elders felt their identity challenged. To this day, far-right political groups aim to revert society back to the pre-1960s era. The family embodies the essence of what truly defines France – its multiculturalism, its unique blending of influences, its quirks, its bravery, and its belief in transformation. This hidden aspect lies both within the recesses of the French culture and on the streets during May 1968. The story of Boltanski symbolizes the narrative of France as a whole.

The movie explores themes surrounding truth and faith – it states, “Believing isn’t deceiving,” and hints that in linguistics, falsehoods are nonexistent. Could you discuss how these philosophical notions about language and truth impacted the film’s storyline and visual aesthetic?

Movies are more like a form of art or belief system, not a factual representation of reality. They offer interpretations and reflections of life, but they’re not the actual life itself. To keep the audience engaged, you should provide compelling reasons for their faith, rather than trying to force it upon them or claiming to have all the answers. If you do that, it turns into a dogmatic cult, and I don’t want to be seen as a prophet in such a context. In the film’s visual presentation, this can be illustrated through scenes like the transformation of a toy car into a real one, which is possible in the Boltanski universe since Grand-Oncle enjoys reading Gaston Lagaffe comics. This transformation represents the movie’s spiritual aspect.

The movie appears to explore the progression of communication—from a passionate use of language to a more impersonal, contemporary mode of interaction. In what ways do you imagine this transition affecting your characters’ lives, and does it offer insights about the emergence of the modern person in an evolving society?

Today, consider the statements made by Trump suggesting that Gaza could be transformed into the French Riviera of the Middle East. While many find such an idea repulsive, it’s important to pay attention not only to the content he communicates, but also the way in which he expresses himself. By focusing on his choice of words and their arrangement, we can gain insights into his true character. This is a concept that Jacques Lacan eloquently discussed. In essence, the manner of expression often holds more significance than the actual message. Instead of questioning why something is said, it may be beneficial to pay closer attention to how we are governed, as this can provide valuable insights. I studied linguistics and cinema simultaneously during my university years, which may have left me with a touch of nostalgia for that time.

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2025-02-17 15:47