ANDMilie (Yolande Moreau) says stop. Stop her life in the nursing home where she is treated with odious condescension by the director (excellent Alison Wheeler), stop the extremely gloomy promise of a life stuck between her grandchildren and a daughter-in-law ( Marie Gillain) fell under the thumb of a vile little thug (Jonathan Cohen). And at the age of 70, she sets off on the road, behind the wheel of her rental car, flanked by Lynda (Laure Calamy), an unattached caregiver. A single objective: to settle scores with all those who, in their lives, made them suffer these small – and large – daily humiliations, which they have never forgotten.
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It is on this sincere framework that Gustave Kervern, proving once again that there is indeed a life after Grolandconstructed by I won't let myself do this anymore, his first solo film, awarded the directing prize at the La Rochelle Fiction Festival last September. A Thelma et Louise du Pas-de-Calais, broadcast this Friday evening on Arte, which places characters, often banally sordid, sometimes touching, on the path of our two outlaws.
The opportunity to offer lovely scores to Anna Mouglalis and Raphaël Quenard, newcomers to the universe between light gray and discreetly yellow vest of Kervern, in the roles of cops as lost as they are moving in pursuit of the two runaways . Or, even more surprising, to place the former president of RC Lens Gervais Martel in a wheelchair.
This feminist road movie, Gustave Kervern imagined it a bit melancholic but rather than giving in to bitterness or depression, he decided to bring it a few touches of humor, absurd and poetic, so that the distress or the petty weaknesses of these characters are not too difficult to digest.
Moreover, if Laure Calamy and Yolande Moreau do not lack presence, it is especially through his supporting roles that the director and screenwriter often shows himself most accurately. Not a second shot that doesn't tell a story, not a line, no matter how innocuous it seems, that doesn't give food for thought to our neurons or our zygomatics.
Meeting last September with a touching and humble Gustave Kervern, who did not hide his anguish, a few weeks before the broadcast of his film on Arte.
The Point: How was the idea of I won't let myself do this anymore ?
Gustave Kervern: I had a small personal problem, a divorce, which left me, how should I put it, a little lost. I understood that I had to write to get through it. So I worked on two films based on ideas that had been in my head for a long time. But this one is really the most personal. I realized that we all go through little humiliations in life, moments when we didn't dare respond to someone, where we didn't get the right response. It's incredible how these little moments follow us throughout our lives, even when they are insignificant. It was this idea that interested me: how these regrets haunt us and influence our lives, even though we should have forgotten them.
You also talk about revenge but not Tarantino-style bloody revenge…
(He smiles.) No, it's more about symbolic revenge, a settling of scores for these little humiliations. The main character played by Yolande Moreau decides to take revenge after the death of her son, but in a subtle way. What I liked was also talking about what happens in nursing homes, particularly with the character of this director played by Alison Wheeler, who is part of what I call “everyday monsters”.
You often talk in interviews about your fascination with “magnificent losers”. Are your two heroines part of it?
Yes, totally. Even though each film is different, I always come back to them. They are always characters of modest circumstances who rebel against something. It's a bit of a recurring theme in my films. They are modern Don Quixotes, incredibly endearing.
We have the impression, when watching your film, that the actors felt free to improvise, like this scene in the car, in which Yolande Moreau and Laure Calamy imitate animals while singing…
With Benoît Delépine, we always had a pretty cool filming atmosphere. When the actors arrive, they know there will be no undue pressure. It's important that they can express themselves freely and take risks. The car scene is a pure moment of madness that was not planned at all!
How was filming with Laure Calamy, a newcomer to your world, and your “muse” Yolande Moreau?
Laure is a very generous actress. She sometimes has doubts, but we have always found common ground. What I like about her is her ability to give humanity to her character. Her duet with Yolande Moreau works very well, because they are opposites but complement each other.
Working alone is a little faster. It's nice not to have to discuss each choice, we have less frustration. It's a different kind of fun.
The film could turn into drama and you always catch it by the collar with touches of humor, including sometimes in the background…
Yes, I care about it. In my film, I have 250 shots, while an American film has thousands, and each one must tell something. This is the difficulty of the sequence shot: everything in the frame must have meaning. We avoid moments when nothing happens, like a car arriving for no reason. You always need a strange or unusual element, something that captures the attention.
What difference does it make to shoot for television rather than for cinema?
(He laughs.) Not much actually. The process is pretty much the same. Usually, with Benoît Delépine, we have a month to shoot our films. So shooting speed is not a problem. What matters is the working method, the trust we give to the actors. And I haven't changed my way of doing things, even for television.
Was working alone for the first time rather distressing or liberating?
It was a bit of both. Working as a couple always means making compromises, but it’s also enriching. Working alone is a little faster. It's nice not to have to discuss each choice, we have less frustration. It's a different type of pleasure, although collaboration remains something very precious to me.
Do you feel like you've reached a point where you've explored everything you have to say?
With Benoît, we may have reached a sort of saturation point. He is currently making a film on his own. For my part, I'm focusing on this film, and afterward, I think we'll take a step back before coming back together. We wait until we have an idea that excites us, a new desire, before starting again.
Do you consider yourself a committed director?
Let's say I'm an observer. I don't consider myself an activist, but rather as someone who tries to take a critical and sometimes amused look at the flaws of our time. I like to deconstruct things, without necessarily trying to denounce or give lessons. The people who are in my films, in reality, are people who are a little lost, but they are always looking for something, sometimes without knowing it. This is what makes them endearing and real. When we look around us, we realize that everyone is on this quest, in their own way. But sometimes you have to go through absurd, or even pathetic, moments to understand what really matters.
You make a rather bitter speech about the current cultural level, especially among young people. It looks like you're having fun…
Yes, I find that culture is increasingly dissociated from its real issue. People consume information or entertainment without really thinking about it, as if it is enough to fill a void. TV and platforms like Netflix have become refuges, where we look for answers without ever asking the right questions. People need distraction, but by filling their heads with easy stuff, they forget to dig a little deeper. We lose this curiosity, this thirst to discover. I'm not criticizing the idea of having fun, far from it, but it has become too systematic.
You are also not very tender with your son, to whom you entrust a hilarious appearance from which he does not necessarily grow up…
(He laughs.) Yes, that’s a bit like it. My son, like many other young people today, has access to everything, to any information, but he doesn't care. He prefers watching cat videos on his phone to sitting down in front of a good movie or book.
What would you like us to remember from this Thelma et Louise you North?
(He smiles.) I wish this film wasn't just a one-dimensional experience. I want the viewer to be taken into a whirlwind of emotions. That's what, in my opinion, makes a film memorable. Because deep down, life itself looks like that: a series of moments where we alternate between laughter and tears, sometimes at the same moment.
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Kangaroo of the day
Answer
Does the reception of the public make you anxious?
Every time I attend public screenings, I worry, I tell myself that I should have cut this or that scene. Yes, you could say that I am anxious. (He smiles.)
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