" Como antes, como nunca, como siempre ." She put "everything
she had to give", into her film. Part confession, part observation:
something that evades you...She wanted to make a documentary about
the circus, the clowns, these beings working in the far reaches
of feelings, where one can really be oneself, but behind a red
nose". Emmanuelle Gracia is recently learning to be a clown,
an old fascination to which she finally gave in. To break with
pathological shyness:" if I do this it's also because
I have difficulty expressing myself ". Ultimately, her
film doesn't speak about the clown. Or ever so little, towards
the end, just to hold the original idea together and better scramble
the traces of a tale too autobiographical. It's her as a little
girl, tossed about amongst the memories of the other, adult, floating
on the nostalgia of childhood. Photos taken from the family album
penetrated by her eye, zooming in on the details "by describing
the path of my own gaze, but without intellectual constructs."
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She stresses that it's never intellectual.
"I'm more plastic, like in theater, the essential is the
emotion." The accompanying text, recited by a voice tinged
with a foreign accent, suggests her Spanish lineage (the father)
and pied-noir (the mother). Nothing more is revealed:
"I wanted a certain distance in relation to reality."
Nonetheless; she adds without finding anything paradoxical about
it, that her preferred subject revolves around memory, origins,
and identity. Her next project will deal with this. Discretely.
Her parents' story contains two wars, Spain's and Algeria's. With
them, behind the camera, she'll walk memory lane, "to
confront the tale one can weave with reality".
A story of paradise lost, as always.
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