Oliver Laxe: "I learned Catalan because the Film Library subtitles all films in Catalan."

BarcelonaThe day after winning the Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival, Oliver Laxe (Paris, 1982) returned to his chosen land, the Ancares mountain range, to project Sirado in Navia de Suarna, a small town in Lugo with fewer than 1,000 inhabitants. A gesture that explains much about this Galician filmmaker, forged between Galicia, Barcelona, and Morocco, who speaks throughout the interview in the Catalan he learned while studying at Pompeu Fabra University. Sirado, which opens this Friday, is one of the cinematic sensations of the season.

Have you been able to process what it means to win an award in the official competition at Cannes?

— I'm promoting the film and don't have time. But I'm amazed by all the buzz it's generated. I don't have social media or read the press, but there's apparently a very strong energy. The most important thing is the connection with the audience, seeing the rapture and excitement of global cinephiles, of people who see 500 films a year and were crazy about the film. It's the moment when, as a filmmaker, you speak to life, and life tells you that all the efforts and sacrifices have been worth it. Because being a filmmaker is very destructing. And I don't live in Barcelona or Madrid; I live on the outskirts and I have to travel around the world. It's not easy.

A few years ago, you settled in your grandparents' uninhabited village, Vilela. What prompted you to do so?

— The most important thing about being human is doing what your heart tells you to do and throwing yourself into it with radical determination. radicality It is a word that comes fromrootIt wasn't an easy decision, but I knew it would help me grow. And I think it's the best decision I've ever made. Being a filmmaker is sometimes a conflict that causes tension and contradictions. I don't think it makes me free and emancipated as a human being. It's a great tool, but there's something very neurotic about it. And in that sense, living in Vilela is healing.

Not only does he live, he has also created a project to revive the area.

— Yes, we are a cultural and environmental association for rural development. We live in a paradise, and we want the traditions, the space, and its values to endure over time. We also have a welcoming office for new residents. Culture tires me out a bit. I need the countryside, to engage in activities linked to the primary sector, animals, and traditional crafts. It gives me balance. And it's part of the imagery that later appears in my films.

The clash of extremes is present in Sirado, a film in which pain and spirituality coexist with the sensuality and longing for freedom embodied by the ravers.

— Yes, it's true that the imagery is diverse, because I really like the Quran; it intoxicates and heals me. When I listen to it, I enter into a state of transition. And at the same time, I really like techno, and I accept myself as such. I am religious in the etymological sense of reconnecting what is seemingly distant, but in reality, I see it as closer. In the end, a film is a gaze, the author's conception of the world, or the laws of life. It's true that in this film, life is expressed harshly, but that's positive, because it makes us connect with ourselves. Often, life's way of taking care of us is by shaking us hard. Life pushes you to the edge of the abyss and tells you who you are. Are you capable of jumping? What are you capable of? The film is harsh, yes, but there is mercy, tenderness, care, and love. It's a heaven that expresses itself harshly but is always protective.

What was the seed of SiradoWas it a personal crisis that led you to talk about these issues?

— This creative process has been very powerful. We all have an original wound from childhood, that of coming into this world, but we don't want to connect with it and we become narcotized. We're always creating an idealized image of ourselves. I have this neurosis of wanting to be special, of being a director who makes special films and lives on a mountain. Essentially, it's a way of not loving myself and creating an image of myself as a balanced, good, serene, and mystical person. The process of making Sirado, on the other hand, consists of connecting more with my lack, with the wound. This is also what the ravers, which are closer to the original wound and show it. I cry when I think about how I've gone to so many parties radish eager to transcend, yet unable to do so. But I accept my fragility, my vulnerability.

Imagine you're making a film about how the son of Galician immigrants working as doormen in Paris ends up becoming an acclaimed filmmaker at Cannes. What would the first scene be?

— When we were returning from Paris in the Renault 9, upon reaching Spain, the highway ended and hell began: the national roads, the curves... until Galicia. And to get to my grandparents' village, there was no track; we had to carry our suitcases on my grandfather's donkey. I'm very grateful to life for allowing me to connect with ancestral Galicia, the land of cow-drawn carts. All those values, traditions, and that ancestral sensibility have made me a filmmaker.

As a young man, you went to study in Barcelona at Pompeu Fabra University. What did you gain from this experience?

— I came from Galicia, where there was no cultural offering. In Galicia, we have excellence, but indirectly or accidentally. Catalonia is more Europe. I needed a lot of stimulation, and I found it here. I finished my audiovisual communication degree at Pompeu Fabra and saw an institution with truth and vocation. Many professors were true cinephiles and they gave me a lot. And also the Filmoteca de Catalunya. I learned Catalan because the Filmoteca subtitles all films in Catalan. I saw so many films in Barcelona during those two years... Also at the CCCB, in the Xcèntric series on Sundays and Thursdays. It was a constant ceremony. I met many friends who are now traveling companions. I consider Barcelona a bit of my home, because I too am from a periphery, and it is becoming clear that peripheries are also centers. Catalonia and Catalan culture are an important mirror for me, like Portugal and other cultural latitudes of the Peninsula.

Can you choose a movie-related souvenir?

— I remember dancing a lot while filming Sirado.. I think this describes my somewhat wild and mountainous sensitivity. The film is an invitation to the viewer to dance in the cinema. Another memory would be the film I shot with some children [All of you are captains], where I was the most childlike of all. It was a process of reconnecting with the child that I am. Usually, it's when I'm filming that I realize my unconsciousness and innocence. Sirado, when we filmed the radish And I saw the production trucks and all the people there, and I thought, "Wow. You're really crazy. Causing all this to make a movie." And at the same time, it's noble to film something fragile and complex and share it with the viewer.

After winning an award in the Cannes competition, many offers to work abroad will arrive.

— Why not? I'm open to life. I've received offers before, but it wasn't the right time. Now I can knock on the door of any major actor, and maybe they'll want to work with me. And this will give me freedom, because if a good actor wants to work with you, it protects you. But I'm from my hometown, and I want to be with my neighbors and my tomatoes... I'm lazy about having to go to the United States. We'll see. I can always take a project to my universe and do it my way, with... Santiago Fillol and my producers. But I'm not in a hurry, nor am I ambitious. Everyone tells me my career will take off, but I feel like I'm at the end of my rope. I'm tired and have less ambition than ever.