The French (Still) Do It Better: A Roundtable with Audrey Tautou and the Foenkinos Brothers
Perhaps the directors of Audrey Tautou’s new film are closeted cultural theorists. Perhaps they read a bit of Derrida or Foucault while working on the script. Or maybe David and Stéphane Foenkinos—whose first feature film, Delicacy, premieres this Friday— are from the place where film itself began. And maybe, the French (still) do it better.
Nathalie: I don’t know what came over me … but we work together, and I must say that it was completely inappropriate.
Markus: You sound like an American. That’s never a good sign.
—Audrey Tautou and Françoise Damiens in Delicacy
At The Empire Hotel, in the cozy living room of Suite 1124, a small group of freelance writers hangs on to Stéphane Foenkinos’s every word. “She would never admit it,” he says of the woman who brought us Amelie and Coco Before Chanel, “but she’s an icon in Russia.” He laughs—and we laugh, and he goes on to say that he’d never seen anything like it. Stéphane—whose idea it had been to turn David’s bestselling novel into a film—tells us that when they arrived in Moscow to promote Delicacy, people were screaming and crying for the actress who was humbled (even pleasantly embarrassed) by her rock-star status.
Fame is indeed culturally specific, even for an international “star.” In New York, many of us would gladly throw ourselves at Audrey Tautou’s feet, but perhaps not as they did in Moscow. A similar question of culture arises later in the roundtable discussion when one of the writers notes that in America, Delicacy will be categorized as a romantic comedy, although its actual plot and overall tone resists that label. “This is an English term,” Stéphane says of the “rom-com” genre. He prefers that Delicacy—which he stresses is absolutely not a rom-com—be understood as a dramedy. Tautou’s character Nathalie, experiences the loss of her husband and soul mate, and David’s novel is as much about her grief as it is her new romance, which unfolds slowly, painfully and then beautifully. The film follows this movement, with some variation. “We didn’t want to leave out the mourning,” Stéphane explains.
When asked about what drew her to the film, Audrey first speaks about being attracted to the role of Nathalie and the “tone” with which her story was told. I ask how she “became” Nathalie. Had she channeled any of her own experiences or even prior roles in her performance, especially in the scenes of mourning? “I don’t really have any personal experience … thank God,” she answers, looking up and waving her hands, gratefully. She goes on to say that she knows many people who have experienced such loss, and that she tried to present a woman who called on her own, personal dignity. “I really wanted to show that—how she was always standing up.”
In describing what she considers the tone of the film, Ms. Tautou points to the predilection towards “fantasy” and “poetry” (even amidst grief). This is interesting to hear alongside Stéphane’s notion of the dramedy (which, he adds, almost always assumes the existence of romance, at least for the French). Both artists suggest there is a mixing of various genres to create one, complete (French) film.
Our roundtable discussion is, however, far more informal than I’ve perhaps let on. To my surprise there was no round table and the face of Chanel was but a few inches away from mine. Audrey Tautou had entered the suite shortly after the Foenkinos brothers. She was statuesque (wearing the highest of black heels and carrying a candy-red purse I literally wanted to devour), but sat comfortably between David and Stéphane on a chocolate-brown suede couch. Amidst questions of genre and culture—expressed and implied—there lies a lighter sense of friendship and overall exhilaration.