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Emilie Dequenne: 'Making a film like Our Children is something you have to survive' – interview Emilie Dequenne: 'Making a film like Our Children is something you have to survive' – interview
(5 months later)
On a cold morning, in a corner of a café in northern Paris, huddled in a studded black leather jacket, perched on a tiny stool and clutching a citron chaud, Émilie Dequenne looks for all the world like a curious and cheerful pixie come to spend time among us humans. She wrinkles her upturned nose when she smiles – which is often – and she speaks sweetly about her enthusiasms: family, food, her love of Paris. She does not exactly babble – she is clearly far too intelligent for that – but her thoughts tumble over one another as she talks about making movies, her kids, her native Belgium and how she thrives on her cosy routines. She is far from being cloying or cutesy but, for someone who has spent the past few years carving out a reputation in the French film world for playing damaged and fragile women who can wreak murderous havoc, she is actually, on the surface at least, bouncingly normal.On a cold morning, in a corner of a café in northern Paris, huddled in a studded black leather jacket, perched on a tiny stool and clutching a citron chaud, Émilie Dequenne looks for all the world like a curious and cheerful pixie come to spend time among us humans. She wrinkles her upturned nose when she smiles – which is often – and she speaks sweetly about her enthusiasms: family, food, her love of Paris. She does not exactly babble – she is clearly far too intelligent for that – but her thoughts tumble over one another as she talks about making movies, her kids, her native Belgium and how she thrives on her cosy routines. She is far from being cloying or cutesy but, for someone who has spent the past few years carving out a reputation in the French film world for playing damaged and fragile women who can wreak murderous havoc, she is actually, on the surface at least, bouncingly normal.
In her latest film, A Perdre de la Raison (Our Children), Dequenne has taken on perhaps her darkest and most challenging role yet. This is the story of Murielle, an innocent and naive young woman, who falls into marriage and then has children with Mounir, a young Moroccan immigrant. The film begins in an unnamed airport as five tiny coffins are loaded on to a plane. We then see Murielle in hospital, demanding that her children be buried in "leur pays" - "their country", by which she means Morocco. Ultimately, we learn that Murielle has killed her own children.In her latest film, A Perdre de la Raison (Our Children), Dequenne has taken on perhaps her darkest and most challenging role yet. This is the story of Murielle, an innocent and naive young woman, who falls into marriage and then has children with Mounir, a young Moroccan immigrant. The film begins in an unnamed airport as five tiny coffins are loaded on to a plane. We then see Murielle in hospital, demanding that her children be buried in "leur pays" - "their country", by which she means Morocco. Ultimately, we learn that Murielle has killed her own children.
It's hard to imagine a more horrible role for anyone to play than a child-killer, especially someone who, like Emilie Dequenne, is herself the mother of small children. So I began by asking Emilie how she had prepared for and indeed coped with such a dangerous role.It's hard to imagine a more horrible role for anyone to play than a child-killer, especially someone who, like Emilie Dequenne, is herself the mother of small children. So I began by asking Emilie how she had prepared for and indeed coped with such a dangerous role.
"As you know", she replied, "the film is loosely based on a real event in Belgium; it really happened that a Belgian woman married to a Moroccan had killed their own five kids. But I went to speak to several psychiatrists before I started making the film and they told me that the person who killed her own kids was psychotic – not just depressed or angry but in a very strange and rare place, and that this did not happen to everybody. Just because you shout at your kids, it doesn't mean that you want to kill them. I had to know this, because I have my own neuroses like everyone else. The story is really an explanation of how Murielle gets to this place. For my part I went home every weekend, and stayed with my family, which is a very safe place. Making a film like that is something that you have to survive.""As you know", she replied, "the film is loosely based on a real event in Belgium; it really happened that a Belgian woman married to a Moroccan had killed their own five kids. But I went to speak to several psychiatrists before I started making the film and they told me that the person who killed her own kids was psychotic – not just depressed or angry but in a very strange and rare place, and that this did not happen to everybody. Just because you shout at your kids, it doesn't mean that you want to kill them. I had to know this, because I have my own neuroses like everyone else. The story is really an explanation of how Murielle gets to this place. For my part I went home every weekend, and stayed with my family, which is a very safe place. Making a film like that is something that you have to survive."
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When we first meet Murielle in the film, she is as sweet and lively as Émilie Dequenne is in real life. But the problem for Murielle is the hold that André, a corpulent middle-aged doctor, has on her marriage and ultimately on her life. André has raised Mounir since childhood and is in a phony arranged marriage with his sister. In fact, he effectively owns a whole Moroccan family and the boy Mounir is his real wife. As, moment by moment, inch by inch, Murielle works all of this out, her own sense of self disintegrates and she collapses into madness.When we first meet Murielle in the film, she is as sweet and lively as Émilie Dequenne is in real life. But the problem for Murielle is the hold that André, a corpulent middle-aged doctor, has on her marriage and ultimately on her life. André has raised Mounir since childhood and is in a phony arranged marriage with his sister. In fact, he effectively owns a whole Moroccan family and the boy Mounir is his real wife. As, moment by moment, inch by inch, Murielle works all of this out, her own sense of self disintegrates and she collapses into madness.
The brooding figure of André, played with brilliant malevolence by Niels Arestrup, takes on the full demonic force that leads to tragedy. "Murielle hates André," says Dequenne. "He makes her feel that she is nothing. She never quite understands what is going on between Mounir and André but she knows that André has full control. But she is too scared to kill him. So to save them she kills her kids." There is no gory massacre here. Not a drop of blood is seen on the screen. But from the outset the film is a brilliantly chilling account of how a person can unravel in an apparently happy family.The brooding figure of André, played with brilliant malevolence by Niels Arestrup, takes on the full demonic force that leads to tragedy. "Murielle hates André," says Dequenne. "He makes her feel that she is nothing. She never quite understands what is going on between Mounir and André but she knows that André has full control. But she is too scared to kill him. So to save them she kills her kids." There is no gory massacre here. Not a drop of blood is seen on the screen. But from the outset the film is a brilliantly chilling account of how a person can unravel in an apparently happy family.
Understandably, the survivors of the real-life family drama in Belgium were angry about the film, threatening legal action and denouncing Dequenne and the director, Joachim Lafosse, as "exploiters". And although, on its initial reception in Belgium and France, the film was a great critical success, even some of the most enthusiastic critics worried about the racial politics of the film, which seemed to portray Moroccans as greedy immigrants willing to sell sex and themselves for a visa to Europe.Understandably, the survivors of the real-life family drama in Belgium were angry about the film, threatening legal action and denouncing Dequenne and the director, Joachim Lafosse, as "exploiters". And although, on its initial reception in Belgium and France, the film was a great critical success, even some of the most enthusiastic critics worried about the racial politics of the film, which seemed to portray Moroccans as greedy immigrants willing to sell sex and themselves for a visa to Europe.
"It is a film," says Dequenne. "It is about human beings and human beings are complex." Dequenne says that she tried to stay away from the real story: she never met any of the people involved and tried not to read the papers, even those in which she was vilified for making art out of real tragedy."It is a film," says Dequenne. "It is about human beings and human beings are complex." Dequenne says that she tried to stay away from the real story: she never met any of the people involved and tried not to read the papers, even those in which she was vilified for making art out of real tragedy.
But this is not the first time that Dequenne has appeared in a film linked to a real-life controversy. She first came to a really wide audience in France playing the lead, Jeanne, in the 2009 film La Fille du RER, directed by André Téchiné. This film was based on the story of a young woman called Marie Léonie Leblanc, who in 2004 claimed to have been the victim of an anti-semitic attack on the RER D, the train line that links central Paris to the notoriously crime-ridden suburbs (banlieues) outside Paris. The attack provoked a wave of disgust and outrage across France, reaching government level, until Leblanc confessed that she had made the whole thing up.But this is not the first time that Dequenne has appeared in a film linked to a real-life controversy. She first came to a really wide audience in France playing the lead, Jeanne, in the 2009 film La Fille du RER, directed by André Téchiné. This film was based on the story of a young woman called Marie Léonie Leblanc, who in 2004 claimed to have been the victim of an anti-semitic attack on the RER D, the train line that links central Paris to the notoriously crime-ridden suburbs (banlieues) outside Paris. The attack provoked a wave of disgust and outrage across France, reaching government level, until Leblanc confessed that she had made the whole thing up.
"That film was a massive experience for me," says Dequenne. "It was really about a young woman who had lost her way so completely that she did not know how to get back. It's really about self-harm in the most extreme sense.""That film was a massive experience for me," says Dequenne. "It was really about a young woman who had lost her way so completely that she did not know how to get back. It's really about self-harm in the most extreme sense."
La Fille du RER made Dequenne well known but it was not particularly an artistic success, and it was not terribly well received by the French press. Many critics accused Téchiné of overlooking the strangeness of mythomania and creating instead a pseudo-political polemic, which sought to attack the government and society for its demonisation of the kids from the banlieues. For her part, Dequenne does not see the film as a failure. "With a film on such a subject, you can be sure that people will be angry and have their own opinions on what it should look like."La Fille du RER made Dequenne well known but it was not particularly an artistic success, and it was not terribly well received by the French press. Many critics accused Téchiné of overlooking the strangeness of mythomania and creating instead a pseudo-political polemic, which sought to attack the government and society for its demonisation of the kids from the banlieues. For her part, Dequenne does not see the film as a failure. "With a film on such a subject, you can be sure that people will be angry and have their own opinions on what it should look like."
For all her insight into the challenges and excellence of her own work, it's still hard to imagine the real-life Emilie Dequenne as a narcissistic self-harmer or child-killer. "It's true that basically I have a very playful personality," she says, doing that thing where she wrinkles her nose again. "When I was a kid, I was always dancing and singing on tables, organising little cabarets and generally just showing-off. I loved clowning about. One of my first teachers of drama was a great big, huge man called Jean-Pierre Williams, who was hilarious and showed me how to be funny. He was wonderful and is still my great inspiration."For all her insight into the challenges and excellence of her own work, it's still hard to imagine the real-life Emilie Dequenne as a narcissistic self-harmer or child-killer. "It's true that basically I have a very playful personality," she says, doing that thing where she wrinkles her nose again. "When I was a kid, I was always dancing and singing on tables, organising little cabarets and generally just showing-off. I loved clowning about. One of my first teachers of drama was a great big, huge man called Jean-Pierre Williams, who was hilarious and showed me how to be funny. He was wonderful and is still my great inspiration."
Dequenne studied drama at the Académie de Musique de Baudour and first started acting in a company based in Ladeuze – made up of two tiny neighbouring villages in the Hainaut region of Belgium, a waffle's throw away from the French border. This is a tough, working-class region – the landscape is mottled with slag heaps – and, with its long history of mining and poverty, the overall atmosphere is of a French-speaking Yorkshire. Hardly, then, fertile ground for a young actress who would go on to win a prize at Cannes ( in 2012 for her performance in Our Children)…Dequenne studied drama at the Académie de Musique de Baudour and first started acting in a company based in Ladeuze – made up of two tiny neighbouring villages in the Hainaut region of Belgium, a waffle's throw away from the French border. This is a tough, working-class region – the landscape is mottled with slag heaps – and, with its long history of mining and poverty, the overall atmosphere is of a French-speaking Yorkshire. Hardly, then, fertile ground for a young actress who would go on to win a prize at Cannes ( in 2012 for her performance in Our Children)…
"Well, that's not really true," she says. "The Belgians are very funny and we love messing around. So are the French, of course, but we are much less hierarchical. It's strange that the French live in a republic and we have a monarchy but we are far less hierarchical. People in Belgium are spontaneous and friendly. Brussels is still provincial, a bit scruffy, and we don't care. We are far more mischievous than the French – maybe more like the British.""Well, that's not really true," she says. "The Belgians are very funny and we love messing around. So are the French, of course, but we are much less hierarchical. It's strange that the French live in a republic and we have a monarchy but we are far less hierarchical. People in Belgium are spontaneous and friendly. Brussels is still provincial, a bit scruffy, and we don't care. We are far more mischievous than the French – maybe more like the British."
At this point Emilie does a remarkable thing: she changes languages, from French to Flemish to English, and as she does so her body language changes and she is no longer the elfin Parisian gamine but morphs almost into a sort of Englishwoman – less self-consciously cute and man-pleasing and a bit more real. "I love speaking English," she says in what is really not a bad estuary accent. I point out that it's usually very hard for French people to sound this good in English. "I don't know," she says, "but certainly in Belgium we feel as close to England as to France."At this point Emilie does a remarkable thing: she changes languages, from French to Flemish to English, and as she does so her body language changes and she is no longer the elfin Parisian gamine but morphs almost into a sort of Englishwoman – less self-consciously cute and man-pleasing and a bit more real. "I love speaking English," she says in what is really not a bad estuary accent. I point out that it's usually very hard for French people to sound this good in English. "I don't know," she says, "but certainly in Belgium we feel as close to England as to France."
This is followed by an outpouring of anglophilia. She describes her happy student days in Bournemouth ("a paradise"), directing Shakespeare for kids, how she makes scones (almost pronounced correctly) for her family and, above all, how much she admires British television. She is a big fan of Charlie Brooker's Black Mirror and Shameless.This is followed by an outpouring of anglophilia. She describes her happy student days in Bournemouth ("a paradise"), directing Shakespeare for kids, how she makes scones (almost pronounced correctly) for her family and, above all, how much she admires British television. She is a big fan of Charlie Brooker's Black Mirror and Shameless.
"Charlie Brooker is great," she says. "Only in England can people get away with that kind of cynicism. It's the same with Shameless – I like especially with Shameless the characters and the accents, and the way in which the characters live in a world that is their own and has nothing to do with how they should live, but instead how they want to live. That's very Belgian!""Charlie Brooker is great," she says. "Only in England can people get away with that kind of cynicism. It's the same with Shameless – I like especially with Shameless the characters and the accents, and the way in which the characters live in a world that is their own and has nothing to do with how they should live, but instead how they want to live. That's very Belgian!"
She claims that she has no interest in Hollywood. "For one thing, I hate planes," she says. She also says that she is too attached to her family life, meaning her family base with her partner and kids near the Canal Saint-Martin, and her family, who are still based in Belgium. Unlike most actresses who say this, you get the impression she means it.She claims that she has no interest in Hollywood. "For one thing, I hate planes," she says. She also says that she is too attached to her family life, meaning her family base with her partner and kids near the Canal Saint-Martin, and her family, who are still based in Belgium. Unlike most actresses who say this, you get the impression she means it.
"I have been to Hollywood and had meetings, but really they don't do the kind of films I like to make. And everything is kind of boring, no?" By this she means Los Angeles itself. "Honestly, it's not a fun place, or at least not my kind of fun.""I have been to Hollywood and had meetings, but really they don't do the kind of films I like to make. And everything is kind of boring, no?" By this she means Los Angeles itself. "Honestly, it's not a fun place, or at least not my kind of fun."
So what is her kind of fun then? She thinks for a minute and then says: "Corsica!" This is where her husband comes from and where they spend family holidays. She pretends to sniff the air – "In Corsica, all you can smell is the herbs and flowers. The air itself is magical. Like the wines." She recommends a wine called Clos Canarelli, made by a cousin of her husband. "Delicious," she says, "like a magical elixir."So what is her kind of fun then? She thinks for a minute and then says: "Corsica!" This is where her husband comes from and where they spend family holidays. She pretends to sniff the air – "In Corsica, all you can smell is the herbs and flowers. The air itself is magical. Like the wines." She recommends a wine called Clos Canarelli, made by a cousin of her husband. "Delicious," she says, "like a magical elixir."
And then, as I'm writing down the name of the wine, she is gone. With a quick wave of the hand, she disappears into the dank, misty morning in northern Paris. But I'm sure it won't be the last we hear of the surprising Émilie Dequenne.And then, as I'm writing down the name of the wine, she is gone. With a quick wave of the hand, she disappears into the dank, misty morning in northern Paris. But I'm sure it won't be the last we hear of the surprising Émilie Dequenne.
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