Juliette Binoche on the Art of Being Directed

There are two events that were pivotal for me in committing myself to this world of passion. The first was when I was fourteen and I saw the Peter Brook play Ubu aux Bouffes. I was in the audience, and at the end of the play we were all standing up and clapping and full of joy. And I thought, if I can give that joy to other people like I’m receiving it now, that’s what I want to do with my life. And then, when I was around seventeen and in school, I directed a play and did the set design. I was really passionate about that, and at the end of it I knew I was going to go into theater—that was crystal clear. I remember I told my mother and she said, “Well, it’s very difficult work,” and I said, “Yeah, that doesn’t matter to me.”

I love following someone. In doing so I can actually find my place, and that can also change the director’s perception and way of handling things. But I like to participate and to share—that’s my clay. You have to do things in a subtle way so that the director doesn’t feel imposed on. The creation is happening while you’re making it. But I do need to have this outside point of view [from the director], because it helps for me to let go and abandon myself and be inside my perception and sensation. I know when there’s another take that could go further. The most interesting directors will let you do that. They don’t try to hold onto the power because they know the power is not in their hands, it’s somewhere else.

The costume designer they hired drew every single outfit to fit in a progression of colors throughout the film. It felt like it was coming from the head and not from the physicality, so I was a little worried. It was a week before shooting and we didn’t have the clothes yet. Finally, we decided to find someone else, and Kieślowski said something to me: “Don’t worry about the clothes, I’m just interested in your intimacy.” And the first day of shooting was the first scene you see in the film: me under the sheets with the camera very close, crying in bed. I thought, okay, intimacy, I get what he means.

But I don’t think Kieślowski knew that much about acting. And it didn’t matter. He knew when it was right, and he knew when he could go further. When there was a technical problem he’d do it again, but for acting he wouldn’t repeat. He would make me rehearse, like, five times and do one take afterward. He’d sometimes say, “Why isn’t it exactly like the rehearsal?” and I’d tell him that each take is something new, I’m discovering as I’m going, just as you do. We had a few laughs about it, but I was also disappointed sometimes that he wouldn’t understand that he had to trust me on that. 

But it was the subject matter that touched me so, because one of my friends had lost a child and a husband [like Binoche’s character in Blue]. What Kieślowski said to me, and I found it so interesting, was: “No tears. Never any tears.” I doubted that, especially when my character finds out the news about the deaths, but as we were going I began to understand. On the last take, the last shot of the film, I told him to let me do what I wanted. I said that I would like to smile. He said no, and I said let me try, and he said, “Okay, let’s try it.” So I did it and we kept the shot, and at the screening he said to me, “You were right.”

Absolutely. There was one take during a crucial moment, when the male character is coming up to me at the bar and the bartender says, “Are you married? Are you a couple?” and he turns to me and says, “Are we married?” My character gets really upset and is like, “How come you don’t know?” and starts to have a tantrum and goes out of the café. When we’d rehearsed the scene it was all controlled, but in the moment of that take, I lost it. I was giggling and crying at the same time. After that, Abbas was very upset. He stood up and said, “We never said you were going to play it like that, you never played it like that in rehearsal.” I told him that it just came out like that and I couldn’t control it. We did a few more takes and he said that he would edit the scene at the end of the day and if it wasn’t good and didn’t fit into the film we would shoot it again tomorrow. But he said he actually thought it was fine.

Then at the end of the shoot, he invited me to see the film because he’d been editing it while we were making it. The scene was not in it! I said, “This is an exceptional moment. Why didn’t you put it in the film?” And he said, “No, it’s too much.” I said to him, “Show me the fucking scene! I want to see it!” He showed me the scene and I told him it was gorgeous and that he was crazy not to put it in the film. So he said to me, “Well, if you were directing, would you put it in?” and I said [laughing], “Of course I would put it in!” It was very funny. There were a lot of laughs and a lot of sharing.

Well, we met a long, long time ago, when Claire was working with Tarkovsky. She was doing the casting of The Sacrifice [which Binoche did not ultimately appear in]. Then she asked me to be in Chocolat, her first film, and at the time maybe I was busy doing something else, but I said no. After that she didn’t ask me to be in any of her films, but I knew that we were going to meet one day. When it’s the right time, it comes.

We got along so well because there’s something so unpredictable with her. She’s not trying to control anything, and yet she’s totally there, and when she’s choosing to shoot you, it’s like a portrait—she’ll see the light, she’ll see how your eyes are, your lips, your angles, everything. And that’s refreshing. There was a feeling of being special and precious in the moment and being seen. A lot of actors are there because they want to be seen and heard, and so suddenly when a director is really there to do it, there’s something that is lifting in you and is available.

While making Rendez-vous I hardly knew him because he wouldn’t come to the set and I was oblivious to who was doing what. As a young actress you’re hardly aware of what’s going on, it’s too busy, and there’s so much to deal with as an actor already. But it was the same as with Claire: he offered me his first film and I said no, but then he came to me with Summer Hours. I love working with Olivier, and he’s found his cinematographic language. As a person, he’s quick in every sense. I’d even say he’s sort of nervous. But he has a way of listening that’s very interesting. He’s happy to change, and that’s what I’ve noticed throughout time with him lately.

With Clouds of Sils Maria, I had this idea of three women replacing each other, and I thoughtof Olivier. So I called him and I asked what he thought about this idea, and he said to let him think about it and he’ll come back and tell me if it’s something he could write, and he called me two weeks later. He made the story his own. 

I’m always doing something, which I don’t always think is healthy. I’d like to be able to stop but I’m not good at that. Stopping for me would be reading. That’s a different way to nourish yourself. I just finished a film last Saturday. I want to sing, and I want to go back to painting.