Tea time with Sabine
Interview with Sylvain Robineau, director of Sabine
How did you come up with the idea for this film? And how would you describe the woman named “Sabine”?
I got the idea after seeing the films my friend Alban Passot made. They’re two short films entitled Martine and Martine 2.
In those films, there is a man in the forest of Fontainebleau who seems to be looking for a certain Martine. At times, he yells out, at others he recounts the memories of his time spent with her. It’s a totally surrealistic film with no real script, but which is fabulous all the same.
Being able to captivate the viewer for ten minutes, with only a guy shouting “Martine!” in a forest – not everyone can do that; it takes real talent.
I liked Martine so much that I wanted to make a tribute by coming up with another film that would build off of it. I thought that writing a script around a film that doesn’t have one would be a completely new thing.
So I took up the challenge; I was very excited to write a new story that would fit into the old one, and hoped that the graft would take.
Sabine is like a bounce-pass, a volley film.
I can’t give you a detailed description of the Sabine in the film because she exists only through the main character. But if he had to describe her, he’d say that she was made up of every quality, because he loves her.
You character does not seem ready to take her away, nor even to make any overt advances to her. What interested you in these indirect ways of declaring one’s love, a love that dares not show itself like any other?
If you happened upon a poem written about you, you would be much more moved and touched than if the author had given it to you directly. A message in a bottle is the ultimate romantic gesture.
And also I think this way of going about things is typically male: men often show their romantic side when it’s too late. When they become melancholy, they sing the most beautiful love songs, write the most beautiful poems, make the most beautiful paintings. It’s when they’re in the phase of winning over or winning back that they become the most interesting, when they have something to gain that they unlock their stores of intelligence and creativity.
Suffering and melancholy come out better in films than happiness.
How did you see the main character, and how did you go about casting him?
I envisioned him as a modern poet whose medium is video. I started off with the idea of creating an endearing character; someone who’s always looking out for others, sort of like a male version of Amélie. Franc Bruneau is perfect for the role: he wears his heart on his sleeve and his gaze is touching. He’s one of those people who have not completely grown up, and you can see it on his face.
For the female characters, we needed two excellent actresses to play the score at the right tempo. Laura Chetrit and Caroline Mounier are mainly theater actors and their rigor and ability to adapt are amazing.
Nasser’s character is played by Nasser Kateb himself. I love him in Martine: his emaciated silhouette in that blue suit, it’s just a form of poetry.
The man with the guitar is a nice looser, an awkward guy. He works as a counterpoint in the video club scene. I asked Soy Panday to play him because I can’t imagine making a film without him, he’s my fetish actor.
First and foremost, we’re a group of friends who regularly make films together.
Your protagonist mentions Jean-Luc Godard. Do you like the films of the Nouvelle Vague, and what about them interested you for Sabine?
I have a soft spot for François Truffaut’s films, and I like some of Godard’s. The “Nouvelle Vague” was a group of young critics who became filmmakers with a special energy and a new grammar. They were very talented, but also very dogmatic, which I think is a heresy where creation is concerned, and film in particular. They were sometimes very hard, and unjustly so, on certain filmmakers whom they didn’t consider “auteurs”.
It’s unfortunate that through the vehicle of Les cahiers du cinéma their opinion became the gospel for many movie-lovers and critics. I think that’s unhealthy because it leads to snobbery.
So when I mention Godard in the film, it’s more that I’m taking the piss out that type of snobbery and the closed-mindedness that people sometimes demonstrate simply in order to show off or seem intelligent. Saying, “If it’s a Godard film, it’s got to be good”, is as stupid as saying, “If it’s a Dany Boon film, it’s got to be crap”.
Franc’s character sees right away that he’s dealing with a young woman who is very serious about films, a sort of dictator of art-house films. He knows perfectly well that he has a 90% chance of winning her over if he mentions Jean-Luc Godard. And conversely, if he mentioned Claude Lelouch, he’d be taking a big risk, even though to my mind, the latter made as many masterpieces in the 60s and 70s as the former (Happy New Year, Love Is a Funny Thing, A Man and a Woman…), except that the Cahiers didn’t appreciate him.
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How did you choose the music for the film, and why those choices?
For the opening and closing sequences of the film, I wanted a theme that was melancholy without being sad, and one that was as simple and touching as possible. Getting at simplicity is very complicated, and that’s why I asked Matias Elichabehere to compose the music. He and I are both on the same wavelength. We talk as much about the script as the music when we work together.
The end music is also one of Matias’ songs. He played it for me before I had even written the script and I was hooked the first time I heard it. I couldn’t wait to use it for the film’s closing credits, and bingo! There it is! Thank you Matias for that gift.
What is your stance on the use of mise en abyme?
Reading your question, I realize that many of the filmmakers I like use it. As a movie-goer, I think it’s a bit pretentious, but when it’s used appropriately it can really add something. It’s quite true that in Sabine, I used it without a second thought.
Would you say that Sabine follows in any particular vein? Do you like the Coen Brothers? Woody Allen?
Yes, I love the filmmakers you mention because they’re masters of the art of face-to-face scenes, like Tarantino, Bertrand Blier, Claude Lelouch and Claude Sautet. What I most like in movies is good dialogue delivered by good actors. In the case of the people I’ve mentioned, a masterly shot reverse shot is enough to blow me away. And then again, I have a particular predilection for subtle pscyhological manipulation: it’s always a kick to watch someone get the better of his interlocutor without the latter even realizing. That’s what the character Franc does. He manages to twist reality the way he wants, he’s an illusionist. When they meet him, the two young woman are at first skeptical, but ten minutes later they’re his biggest fans.
I don’t know where to classify Sabine. The viewers are the best placed to answer that question; I’m too close to the film.
When you wrote the script, were you thinking about the idea of reciprocity in romantic relationships?
The question of the reciprocity of feelings is dealt with at length in the film, with Nasser and Martine. I used their story to illustrate something I’ve often observed.
If a woman says “no” to a man, that’s not necessarily definitive. He always has a small chance of winning her over if he’s patient and sticks to it. Woman are very sensitive to words and proofs of love. For men, it’s a little different, since the physical aspect comes into play more.
I’m convinced that the end of the film would be less plausible if I swapped the roles of Nasser and Martine.
Do you think that Love can leave room for freedom and lived experiences without the Other?
Yes, I think love can leave room for freedom. It can even create new spaces. But in order to do so, the two people must have a knack for remaining themselves and respecting each other.
We live our loves the best we can, according to our personalities. Some people blossom through fusion and become one person (But which one? You’ll surely ask me.) Others are more independent and need to have their own spaces, they need separation.
And anyway, women and men do not necessarily experience relationships in the same way. Fusion is more female, I think, while men are often more independent, perhaps more self-centered as well.
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It depends what we’re hoping for. It’s better to place one’s hopes in realizable goals or ambitions, otherwise hope makes us suffer by becoming frustration. You have to aim correctly, neither too high nor too low, and in order to do that, you must know yourself to some degree, be clearheaded about yourself. Then life’s ups and downs take care of the rest. Look at Nasser’s character for example, he was right not to lose hope.
Did you intend to draw a parallel between mourning and the patience required in love? Some of the episodes in the series your character creates touch on the same emotions: depression, anger, denial…
Yes, that’s correct. It’s easy to imagine that Franc is in mourning. In fact, I had imagined the script with that eventuality, it’s open ended.
Heartbreak can be just as difficult to overcome as mourning, for in addition to the loss of the loved one, there’s the question of pride.
Did you think of Sabine as a ritual? In general, do you think that cultural rituals can lead to the development of the self, or are they more of a subterfuge?
I didn’t think of it like that, but you’re right. In a certain sense, for Franc, making films becomes a ritual, a belief. He makes one film without thinking about making another, but then he gets caught up in the game and film becomes his religion.
Except that filmmaking is more than simply respecting the rites, it’s playing God himself: you decide on everything that goes on inside. Every filmmaker is familiar with the incredible experience, especially during editing, when you see a whole world emerging from your imagination. I think that’s also why most filmmakers keep on going right up to their death: filmmaking is intoxicating, it’s a hard drug.
The most incredible thing about Franc ‘s films is that he actually manages to change the lives of the people who watch them. He directs his films, but also the lives of others. He creates miracles.
Sabine was either produced, co-produced or self-financed with French funds. Did you write the film with this “French” aspect in mind: making movie references, building a specific context (in a particular region, for example) or inserting characteristically French notions?
I have to say that the thing I kept uppermost in mind while writing the film was that I had to do things simply, simply and above all simply. For budgetary reasons, I had to limit the number of sets, shooting days, etc. But the good thing about constraints is that they stir your imagination and channel it.
Yes, Sabine has a few typically French traits, like all of the characters’ names, reference to film-loving… but all of that is unconscious, I didn’t decide on it as I was writing. I am a product of French culture, so I imagine my films are too.
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Sabine is being shown in National Competition F1.
