Madame Deneuve, can it be that you are completely free from vanity?
I'm proud, but I'm not vain. That's correct. Why?
Otherwise, would you accept a role as tiny as in “Gentle Monster,” even if it is a wonderful character?
The most important reason was actually Marie Kreutzer. I admire her a lot and had seen her film “Corsage” which I thought was just great. That was crucial – and the quality of the script. You are right, my role is not very big, but the script is really excellent. I thought it was very brave, very original, and that's why I said yes.
In the story, Marie Kreutzer raises the suspicion that a family man could be a pedophile.
The story is about a young, beautiful couple who love each other. It is precisely into this love relationship that this suspicion penetrates and poisons her life. When pedophilia is discussed in films, the person in question is usually portrayed as shady from the start. Here it is different: This man loves his wife, they have a child. But I haven't even mentioned something crucial: Léa Seydoux. For me she was a very important reason, she plays this young woman simply outstandingly. Quite extraordinary! I would have found it completely justified if she had won an award for this at Cannes.
Her character, the mother, stands by her daughter. Does the mother-daughter relationship depicted in the film reflect an ideal for you: unconditional protection and at the same time the greatest possible autonomy?
A very strong bond can develop between a mother and her daughter. But that's exactly where a problem can lie: If the relationship becomes too powerful, it can take away a daughter's independence. A relationship that is actually strong and beautiful can become a risk if it becomes too important and takes up too much space - especially for the person who is supposed to be helped. Here you can feel that things are not like that between mother and daughter. And that's exactly what I can understand very well.
So a form of complicity?
Less complicity than intimacy. What really touches me is the intensity of this intimate closeness between the two. I recognize something in it that connects me to my daughter Chiara. I can well understand this special, very close relationship because I have always had an ideal relationship with my daughter. But I also have an ideal daughter!
Were you an ideal daughter? How did you become the modern, independent, often unconventional, curious woman who has retained her stubbornness to this day?
There were four girls in our family. My mother talked to us a lot, often at lunch - my father was there more in the evenings. And even back then she often addressed topics that people didn't talk about so openly and in detail with their children at the time: life, pregnancy, birth... Within our family, hardly anything was treated as taboo, there was never a moment of big "revelation", not even that our eldest sister came from a different father. It was just part of our family life. I think that was very much thanks to my mother.
You yourself have shown time and time again that you don't care much for conventions - until today. Are you critical – or rebellious?
(laughs loudly) I'm not rebellious!
A little bit.
What is true is that I really wanted to have a child from a very young age. But it didn't seem necessary to me to have to get married because of that. I actually got married later. But I had pretty clear ideas early on about how I wanted to live - and especially about what I wasn't prepared to accept.
You never accepted the restriction of your autonomy. Was that due to your liberal upbringing or the special circumstances of your own life - your sudden breakthrough at 21, the tragic death of your sister in 1967, your immense and, above all, continued fame to this day?
What I found crucial was the spirit that prevailed in our home. My father and mother always maintained a certain distance from things. And both had great senses of humor. They were both very unusual people for the time! This also applied to the relationship between parents and children, which was not so relaxed back then.
Your mother lived to an extraordinary age...
Oh yeah...
She died five years ago at the age of 109.
Incredible, right? But frankly, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Really no one. To be kept alive like this when your body is about to give up, when you can no longer read, really listen or participate in life... My mother could still hear well, but she hardly had the opportunity to do anything. Seeing her in this weakness and tiredness was very difficult for me. At some point there has to be an end - in the interests of people themselves, not others.
Would you want the freedom to decide how to die yourself?
Of course, there are exceptional cases of people who are still active and awake at an incredible age. But if that is no longer the case, if someone only lives in an institution and actually rests almost exclusively, then I don't necessarily see that as dignified.
You were also recently hit hard by the death of the gifted director and comic author Marjane Satrapi...
I really liked Marjane, really. Her death shocked me deeply. I also attended her funeral with my daughter. I was very shocked by your decision. After the death of her husband Mathias, she no longer wanted to live. She had said that clearly. It's incredible - especially because Marjane Satrapi was such a strong personality, a really, really strong woman. But at the same time this love was something completely extraordinary, something unique and the basis of her life.
You significantly promoted Satrapi's career when you fueled the success of her debut film “Persepolis” by lending your voices to the characters of mother and daughter and by presenting the film together at Cannes. Do you enjoy the role of mentor?
Oh no, no. Not at all. Of course, in a family you should play an important role for each other, like I did with my sisters or nieces. But I don’t see myself as a mentor otherwise. Strangely enough, once we were well into adulthood and the whole family got together - the children, nieces, grandchildren - our conversations no longer had the same quality as they used to. It often remained with classic, almost banal topics. I often accused them of this, that we didn't really exchange ideas. Later, as they got older, things changed completely and a completely different form of exchange emerged.
Nevertheless, just your participation gives a film a higher value. Does that influence your choice of roles? You also play a surprisingly small role in “Parallel Lives” by Asghar Farhadi. Was the micro appearance a homage to the celebrated Oscar winner, or were you simply unable to miss the top-class ensemble of France's biggest names?
It was Farhadi, of course. He asked me, and in fact the shoot only took me a single day of shooting. But he is a very great director and the script was exceptional. I found the finished film perhaps a little long in the end, but the script was very good.
Does your support also have a political dimension?
Yes, of couse. Maybe sometimes even unconsciously.
You have over sixty years of professional experience. Can cinema give a voice to people for whom public speaking has become dangerous, as in the case of the Iranian Farhadi? Or do we sometimes overestimate the political power of cinema?
I don't think that this support is the real job of the cinema. Of course, there are films that can be particularly influential in this regard. But I believe that a real understanding and support of such people comes primarily from being informed about what is going on in the world. And a film can be essential.
One of the most amazing, extreme roles you were seen in was Lars von Trier's Dancer in the Dark.
Yes, oh yes... I really wanted to work with him. I saw one of his films that I thought was great, then read an interview with him and then wrote to him. I said how much his film had moved me and that I would be very happy to work with him if he came to France. That's how it came about. By the way, my role was originally written for a black American actress.
You wouldn't need to write to a Danish director and apply...
(laughs) Why not?
Was it a role that opened up a new dimension for you? Since then, are you no longer just the icon, but more Deneuve, the actress?
Oh, I don't know - I can't really judge that myself. This developed quite naturally. Really.
Have you freed yourself from the burden of legend?
Yes. There was a lot that I didn't accept.
Do you mean role offers – or your status?
What interests me most is the cinema itself. I love cinema and I go to the cinema very often to see films. What counts for my work is the quality of the script and the curiosity that a role triggers for me. And “interesting” doesn’t automatically mean long. A role doesn't have to be big. What matters is that it is essential.
Do you mind being recognized when you go to the cinema privately?
No. Of course I'll be recognized, but that's just part of it. I'm lucky to live in a neighborhood where this is wonderfully possible, in the sixth arrondissement, near Saint-Germain-des-Prés. I rarely go to premieres. The atmosphere is just not the same. I prefer sitting in a hall with other people. You can feel the atmosphere of the audience. Even if you don't hear anything specific, there is something in the room, a special mood - and that is very important to me.
Do you find it strange that you are now part of the collective cultural memory?
(pause) No!
You say that your motivation to this day is your curiosity. What fascinates you even more today than when you were 30?
I think my curiosity and thirst for knowledge have basically remained the same: I'm interested in so many things in life - and of course cinema. I developed together with the cinema. I started very young, it was part of my life from the beginning, and so I kind of grew with it. Cinema has changed. And me too.
