Cesc Gay: "Men separate and we have thirty-year-old women waiting for us, but they don't."

BarcelonaWith over twenty-five years of experience as a filmmaker, Cesc Gay (Barcelona, ​​​​1967) is one of the most reliable directors in Catalan cinema, an author with a passion for storytelling and a solid talent for creating characters and writing dialogue. In My friend Eva, which opens this Friday, puts aside the bewildered men who have worked so well for her in the past and accompanies a married woman (Nora Navas) with children on the most unexpected adventure of her life: reinventing herself at nearly 50 as a single woman in search of love. It is one of her most playful films, a bittersweet comedy with a dramatic undertone that champions second chances and romance in the age of Tinder.

Her films have always featured female characters, but almost always in ensemble films. In My friend Eva It's the first time a woman has been the main protagonist. Did you want to explore the female world in depth?

— Yes, that was one of the reasons. I'd wanted to work with a female lead for years. I respected it because, whether you like it or not, there's that thing about saying, "What are you getting yourself into?" In the end, it's always easier for a man to talk about men than about women, which is always something we look at and are fascinated by, but it's not who we are. That's why it was a slow process, and I took my time writing the film and listening to it, thinking it through.

Another new feature is that after many years of writing with Tomàs Aragay, he collaborates here with Eduard Sola, the screenwriter of the moment.

— Yes, but it was before his explosion with House on fireTomás left, and I really connected with Edu. I like writing, but when it comes to writing a script, it's great to share the work with someone; it makes it much easier.

After meeting a man during a business trip to Rome, the protagonist of My friend Eva She's torn between staying in a relationship that doesn't satisfy her or taking a leap of faith and leaving. If we changed the character's gender, it would be a very different film.

— It wouldn't be as risky. As Nora [Navas] and all the women who've worked on this film say, men separate and we have thirty-year-old women waiting for us, but not them. Men in their 25s or 30s don't even look at them, or they just give them a finger and say goodbye. There's a boldness in the decision to separate from a woman that has more value, because she doesn't have the same market options, so to speak. Her body goes through a different process than men's; they age faster, and menopause puts them in a more fragile place.

And yet, they take the step.

— Yes. I was inspired by women I know who separated. And, as happens in the film, not because their husband cheated or abused them or because they were having an affair, but because they wanted "that ridiculous thing," as Nora says, about the game of love. That naiveté, if you will, exists, and I find it interesting.

In an increasingly turbo-capitalist and pragmatic world, even in romantic relationships, valuing romantic love seems almost like a contrarian move.

— As Miki Esparbé says at the end of the film, when the Dance me to the end of love Leonard Cohen's poem, "Love is nothing, no matter what we do. It possesses us, guides our steps, and makes us commit irresponsible and crazy acts. And I really like this, especially in these times when everything seems so clear and measured. But Nora is also driven to do what she does by chance, and chance is an element that interests me greatly. We don't think so, but most of the things we do are by chance.

Cesc Gay's films are full of characters who do ridiculous things for love, but I'd say he's never punished them for doing them, and neither is he here.

— No. But in My friend Eva I make the protagonist suffer for a significant portion of the film. Also, a woman who breaks up a family is judged very harshly. By the children, by the mother... What men do, women can't do. But feminism fights to change that, and in some ways, this film responds to that moment of change.

In keeping with that social moment, I expected Eva to be a more empowered woman. However, she's quite the opposite. Cautious, she doesn't take the initiative...

— She's screwed. But at the same time, she makes a very brave decision, and that's where the comedy lies. There are determined men and women in many films, but the reality is that we're all cowards. And I always try to write from the truth. Besides, if it's a woman who's clear about what she's doing and why, the film ends twenty minutes in, and here it was about putting herself in that very difficult place of starting to hear something, but not wanting to even think about it. She has a very funny line when she goes to the theater with her friends and explains her decision: "I never would have expected that from me."

The fact that the protagonist's husband is played by an actor of undeniable attractiveness like Juan Diego Botto doesn't make things easy for her when it comes to making the decision. Was it intentional?

— Yeah, that's the point. If you put her next to a guy who's ugly, a jerk, and treats her badly...

And why Nora Navas? I had worked with her in the theater, in The neighbors above, and also had a role in one of the episodes ofStories not to tell.

— First, because she's a wonderful actress. What can I say about her that we don't already know? And also because she perfectly balances drama and comedy, which I always keep in mind, but more so in this one than ever, because it wasn't about playing a grande dame.But it wasn't a frivolous comedy either. I wanted an actress capable of playing both roles. And, for her part, she has the physical profile of a woman in her fifties, carried with a very interesting maturity. She's a woman who carries her age very well and doesn't play much younger. Plus, it was a film that required having the same actress in front of me every day, and I needed to make the journey with someone I really trusted, like Nora, who's from my personal circle.

The character of Àlex Brendemühl in Stories not to tell He was also someone bewildered by a recent breakup. He always says he's inspired by his life and what he sees around him, and I suppose, from a dramatic point of view, breakups are one of the most interesting things that happen at a certain age.

— Yes, it offers many possibilities. And it's something that's happened a lot around me. Unlike other generations like my parents', where, especially women, couldn't consider leaving their partners, today everything changes: cell phones, apartments, jobs... Everything is utilitarian, and relationships have become part of it. That's why we question things, and it's good that we do. But it can be as bad as not daring to leave a relationship at all. Now everything is much more volatile, because we're constantly questioning ourselves, and that's good but very stressful. And, of course, it makes for excellent dramatic material.

The friends' lunch scene reminded me of one similar to In the city. ...

— Yes, I see what you mean. I hadn't thought of that parallel with In the city. These are things that critics see. In the end, you always rely on yourself, and sometimes you use the same tricks. It's like that dribble you've seen Messi do a thousand times, but it works and he scores. I suppose we all end up doing what we know and playing with the tricks that make us feel confident.

Whenever I interview him, I get the impression that he isn't particularly interested in reflecting on his work or his personal connection to the stories he's told.

— No, I don't enjoy it at all. For me, once it's made, the film just sits there and I never see it again. The beauty of it is thinking about it, writing it, conceiving it, shooting it, and sharing it with the public. But I get nothing out of it, thinking and coming back, it's not rewarding at all. I wish I could see my films the way I see other people's, but I don't. I'm fed up with my film; I've been thinking about it for three years!