‘I know I’m not going to please everyone’: Lucile Hadžihalilović on her beguiling film-making | Film

It was a small clip, on YouTube. A young boy on an operating table. And he seemed to be … pregnant. What? The scene was velvety smooth, still, night time, yellowish. I was fascinated.

I looked up the name of the film director: Lucile Hadžihalilović. French-Bosnian. A month later I got to see the whole film – Evolution – on a big screen. It was just as haunted, as obsessed by bodies and colour and mood, as the YouTube clip. I tracked down more of her work. Her debut feature, Innocence had girls, rivers, an old dark house and labyrinths. If movies are image systems, I was starting to understand that Hadžihalilović is great at image systems.

Then, a film company sent me a link to Hadžihalilović’s new film Earwig and asked if I would host a Q+A with her. I didn’t have time. Besides, I’d stopped interviewing film-makers 20 years ago, and am not sure if I really believe in Q+As any more. But she is so special that I couldn’t say no. So I sent her some email questions.

MC: If your name wasn’t on the front of your new film, Earwig, I think I would still have guessed that it was made by you. Are you pleased to have a recognisable tone of voice?

LH: Yes, I am. It would be sad to sound or look like anybody else – as long as I don’t look like a cliche of myself. But sometimes I’d like to escape myself …

In the edit suite, I’m often worried that my scenes are too slow, that I might bore the audience. You use an oozing pace and only slowly reveal things. That’s very confident, isn’t it? Where does that confidence come from?

I try to find the right pace that will put the audience in a certain state of mind, an altered state close to the characters’ one, a pace that will immerse the audience in the world of the film, that will make them feel the mood of the places and the characters. With my editor, we’ve tried to speed up some scenes but they became tasteless. A slow pace brings intensity. It’s also a way to encourage the audience to focus on the details through which the story is told rather than dialogue and action. To dive deeper into the mood of the scenes.

For me, some films with a fast pace and a lot of cuts can be extremely boring. Boredom isn’t necessarily caused by pacing, but by aesthetic and content. I know I’m not going to please everyone, but for some I hope it’s going to be rewarding.

Earwig has hints of story. What is your attitude to story? I often feel that a film can have too much story, that it can be a kind of bully, a bit macho.

On the one hand, I like it when the story is simple, even minimalist. It allows us to focus on the real cinematic aspects of the film. And on the feelings and the emotions.

I don’t like it when everything is revealed, explained. I like to have to guess, and I like to have time to feel and think. I like holes in the narration, they are very attractive. To have to fill the gaps or to wonder about blurred zones involves me much more in the film and makes the experience more intimate. I try to involve the audience of my films in the same way.

Would you prefer to have been directing in the silent era?

There was a faith in the power of the images, an intensity and often poetry in silent film that is wonderful and that we have lost. An enchantment toward this new art form that must have been really exciting to experience.

Also, silent films can be really close to the language of dreams which is very appealing to me. But in the silent era I would have missed the use of a soundtrack.

What painters do you like? Your imagery and situations remind me of Paula Rego or Puvis de Chavannes.

I love very much symbolist painters like Odilon Redon, Ferdinand Knopf or Léon Spilliaert. Or Nordic European painters such as Munch or Gallen-Kallela. I like the way they often mix nature and mythology. Some surrealist painters are very inspiring too: De Chirico, Tanguy, Toyen, Štyrský, or Dorothea Tanning, for instance.

The great film producer Jeremy Thomas says that we all have a secret box in our heads. What’s in your secret box?

It should remain secret.

If you met Rembrandt, what would you ask him?

I suppose I’d like him to talk about his science of lightning and “clair-obscur” – the distribution of light and shade. And I would love to discuss with him In Praise of Shadows, an essay written by Junichiro Tanizaki in 1933 about Japanese aesthetics and the power of obscurity and silence.

If you met Greta Garbo, what would you ask her?

I would not talk to her but I would worship her as the “founder of a religious cult called cinema” as Federico Fellini would say. In this cult, one of the main goddesses is Marlene Dietrich.

What really scares you?

Losing control over my body and my mind, being “possessed”; a kind of fear I felt very strongly as a teenager after watching The Exorcist.

Have you ever cried at something because of its visual beauty?

Some Japanese films, such as those by Mizoguchi, Naruse or Kinoshita can make you cry because of their beauty and subtleness. Japanese cinema shows such a great love of and dedication to art, which is extremely moving. These films give me a strong feeling of nostalgia, as do Andrei Tarkovsky’s films Stalker and Mirror.

Painting too can be very moving. Recently, I saw an exhibition of Georgia O’Keeffe. The vibration of the colours was so beautiful that it provoked physical reactions – like tears.

Have you evolved as an artist? If so, have you had to force yourself to do so, or does change come naturally?

I’m not sure that I have evolved very much. After my film Innocence I felt more confident to explore imaginary worlds. And with Earwig, thanks to Brian Catling (the author of the novel and also a visual artist), I’ve put myself in the head of a male adult character for once, I’ve let the violence erupt more than usual, and played with time and chronology instead of having a linear narrative, which makes it closer to dream logic.

By contrast, for my next project I hope to explore a more realistic and straightforward narrative. What helps or forces me to evolve is working with my collaborators: co-writers and editors, as well as cinematographers. And the reactions of the audience.

It was a small clip, on YouTube. A young boy on an operating table. And he seemed to be … pregnant. What? The scene was velvety smooth, still, night time, yellowish. I was fascinated.

I looked up the name of the film director: Lucile Hadžihalilović. French-Bosnian. A month later I got to see the whole film – Evolution – on a big screen. It was just as haunted, as obsessed by bodies and colour and mood, as the YouTube clip. I tracked down more of her work. Her debut feature, Innocence had girls, rivers, an old dark house and labyrinths. If movies are image systems, I was starting to understand that Hadžihalilović is great at image systems.

Then, a film company sent me a link to Hadžihalilović’s new film Earwig and asked if I would host a Q+A with her. I didn’t have time. Besides, I’d stopped interviewing film-makers 20 years ago, and am not sure if I really believe in Q+As any more. But she is so special that I couldn’t say no. So I sent her some email questions.

MC: If your name wasn’t on the front of your new film, Earwig, I think I would still have guessed that it was made by you. Are you pleased to have a recognisable tone of voice?

LH: Yes, I am. It would be sad to sound or look like anybody else – as long as I don’t look like a cliche of myself. But sometimes I’d like to escape myself …

In the edit suite, I’m often worried that my scenes are too slow, that I might bore the audience. You use an oozing pace and only slowly reveal things. That’s very confident, isn’t it? Where does that confidence come from?

I try to find the right pace that will put the audience in a certain state of mind, an altered state close to the characters’ one, a pace that will immerse the audience in the world of the film, that will make them feel the mood of the places and the characters. With my editor, we’ve tried to speed up some scenes but they became tasteless. A slow pace brings intensity. It’s also a way to encourage the audience to focus on the details through which the story is told rather than dialogue and action. To dive deeper into the mood of the scenes.

For me, some films with a fast pace and a lot of cuts can be extremely boring. Boredom isn’t necessarily caused by pacing, but by aesthetic and content. I know I’m not going to please everyone, but for some I hope it’s going to be rewarding.

Earwig has hints of story. What is your attitude to story? I often feel that a film can have too much story, that it can be a kind of bully, a bit macho.

On the one hand, I like it when the story is simple, even minimalist. It allows us to focus on the real cinematic aspects of the film. And on the feelings and the emotions.

I don’t like it when everything is revealed, explained. I like to have to guess, and I like to have time to feel and think. I like holes in the narration, they are very attractive. To have to fill the gaps or to wonder about blurred zones involves me much more in the film and makes the experience more intimate. I try to involve the audience of my films in the same way.

Would you prefer to have been directing in the silent era?

There was a faith in the power of the images, an intensity and often poetry in silent film that is wonderful and that we have lost. An enchantment toward this new art form that must have been really exciting to experience.

Also, silent films can be really close to the language of dreams which is very appealing to me. But in the silent era I would have missed the use of a soundtrack.

What painters do you like? Your imagery and situations remind me of Paula Rego or Puvis de Chavannes.

I love very much symbolist painters like Odilon Redon, Ferdinand Knopf or Léon Spilliaert. Or Nordic European painters such as Munch or Gallen-Kallela. I like the way they often mix nature and mythology. Some surrealist painters are very inspiring too: De Chirico, Tanguy, Toyen, Štyrský, or Dorothea Tanning, for instance.

The great film producer Jeremy Thomas says that we all have a secret box in our heads. What’s in your secret box?

It should remain secret.

If you met Rembrandt, what would you ask him?

I suppose I’d like him to talk about his science of lightning and “clair-obscur” – the distribution of light and shade. And I would love to discuss with him In Praise of Shadows, an essay written by Junichiro Tanizaki in 1933 about Japanese aesthetics and the power of obscurity and silence.

If you met Greta Garbo, what would you ask her?

I would not talk to her but I would worship her as the “founder of a religious cult called cinema” as Federico Fellini would say. In this cult, one of the main goddesses is Marlene Dietrich.

What really scares you?

Losing control over my body and my mind, being “possessed”; a kind of fear I felt very strongly as a teenager after watching The Exorcist.

Have you ever cried at something because of its visual beauty?

Some Japanese films, such as those by Mizoguchi, Naruse or Kinoshita can make you cry because of their beauty and subtleness. Japanese cinema shows such a great love of and dedication to art, which is extremely moving. These films give me a strong feeling of nostalgia, as do Andrei Tarkovsky’s films Stalker and Mirror.

Painting too can be very moving. Recently, I saw an exhibition of Georgia O’Keeffe. The vibration of the colours was so beautiful that it provoked physical reactions – like tears.

Have you evolved as an artist? If so, have you had to force yourself to do so, or does change come naturally?

I’m not sure that I have evolved very much. After my film Innocence I felt more confident to explore imaginary worlds. And with Earwig, thanks to Brian Catling (the author of the novel and also a visual artist), I’ve put myself in the head of a male adult character for once, I’ve let the violence erupt more than usual, and played with time and chronology instead of having a linear narrative, which makes it closer to dream logic.

By contrast, for my next project I hope to explore a more realistic and straightforward narrative. What helps or forces me to evolve is working with my collaborators: co-writers and editors, as well as cinematographers. And the reactions of the audience.