Some may even say it’s monstrous.” She concluded by calling for cinema (and the world) to be more inclusive and “fluid.” Upon accepting the top Cannes award-for real, this time-she said in her speech, “Tonight I am on this stage, and I know my movie is not perfect, but I don’t think any film is perfect in the eyes of the person who made it. Coming off her acclaimed Raw-a very different kind of film with overlapping interest in flesh, queerness, and desire-Ducournau’s cinematic instincts are finding a wider audience and, off the Palme win, more attention. No one else, it’s safe to say, is making movies this way. Ducournau acknowledges this, explaining that shooting in chronological order left room for her mind to take over: “It can be the most unbelievable thing, but as long as you live in the story through my character and through her experience, then anything can happen. Some visuals range toward the grotesque others may seem simply perplexing without a very close look. Titane is certainly the kind of movie where the average viewer will ask what just happened, over and over, and why. Ducournau depicts the budding affection between them with lingering shots of the two gazing into one another’s eyes, capturing an elemental spark. In scenes ranging from tender to bizarre, the two deeply broken souls feel each other out, a kind of makeshift family over which death and loss hover. After Alexia realizes her predicament, she runs away from home, shaves her head, and poses as a young man who’d gone missing since he was a little boy-and whose grief-stricken, drug-addicted father (played by Vincent Lindon) takes her in, convinced his son has been found no matter how obvious he hasn’t. Communicating this-specifically, “the birth of love”-was Ducournau’s main goal. Yes-especially since Titane is ultimately a movie about love, strange as that may sound. ![]() A particular visual evolved from the filmmaker’s recurring, actual nightmare in which she gives birth to car-engine pieces she felt compelled by the contradictions of that vivid notion, of giving birth to things that “are not alive.” She fell hard for her troubled central character, who (among other things) emerges as a serial killer: “Even though they commit things that are morally unacceptable, to write them, you have to understand them, right?” She calls this “connecting the dots” between various images she considers, dreams, or writes out. Much of the film, perhaps it’s obvious, came from Ducournau’s subconscious.
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