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| Director Anne Fontaine |
The characters in The Innocents are put into situations where forgiveness would seem to be nearly impossible – and yet we see characters who let go of the anger they’re entitled to and instead forgive and move forward. What does forgiveness mean, especially in “impossible” circumstances? Is forgiveness a requirement for a person to move on past trauma and pain?
I am not a philosopher or a teacher. I merely tell stories through films, and whether the moral consequences of these stories can or cannot be expanded beyond one specific situation is not really for me to say.
With that in mind, I think forgiveness is most meaningful in “impossible” circumstances. Otherwise, in “normal” instances, it’s just a way to manage our common social connections.
As for the second part of the question, I suppose it very much depends on the nature of the trauma. In the case of The Innocents, the matter at stake is mostly self-forgiveness, which is a requirement to forgiveness in full.

Adapting a true story to film brings decisions about where to start and where to end. In The Innocents, for example, we don’t ever see the inciting incident of the Russian soldiers' violent intrusion, and at the end, we don’t learn what Mathilde (Madeleine) does after her time in Poland. Could you share about your process of finding the right scope of this history to present as a film?
The story is based on notes written by Madeleine Pauliac (the “real” Mathilde), and the material I was provided with by her nephew starts and ends where the film starts and ends, more or less.
Unfortunately, Madeleine died in a car accident on February 13th, 1946 (she was barely 33), shortly after the events described in the film. She was still in Poland at that time. So, and regrettably, the question of what she was about to do next was not even raised. The main change that we brought to the historical events was to condense in one location and over a short period of time what Madeleine actually witnessed in several convents, over several months.
The story is based on notes written by Madeleine Pauliac (the “real” Mathilde), and the material I was provided with by her nephew starts and ends where the film starts and ends, more or less.
Unfortunately, Madeleine died in a car accident on February 13th, 1946 (she was barely 33), shortly after the events described in the film. She was still in Poland at that time. So, and regrettably, the question of what she was about to do next was not even raised. The main change that we brought to the historical events was to condense in one location and over a short period of time what Madeleine actually witnessed in several convents, over several months.
I’ve read that for your research for the film, you spent time living with nuns. Would you share some of the things you learned that surprised you? Are there things from this research experience, and making the film in general, that continue to give you perspective on life, faith, and storytelling?
Yes, this is true. I wanted to share the life of a convent to better grasp the pulse of such communities. That being said, I just spent a few days there, and, obviously, what I experienced in a French convent in 2015 must be very different from what Madeleine/Mathilde felt in a Polish convent in 1945. Each film I make gives me perspective on my own life - that’s the goal, and probably the main reason why I make them. Whether my take on faith has changed is a different question. My own spiritual position is possibly somewhere between that of the atheist doctor and that of the Catholic nuns, so I could see - if not totally understand - both ends of their conflicting equation.
On the surface, the Catholic nuns and this atheist, Communist doctor wouldn’t seem to have much in common. What do you think they see in each other?
Well, what interested me in this particular story is precisely that Mathilde and most of the nuns could see in each other something they didn’t have themselves, but which they recognize as essentially human, even if it escapes their grasp. In spite of their differences, they agree in acknowledging that there’s more than one way to be a man (or a woman, in this case). And they realize that they have more in common than expected: many questions, many doubts, many painful hesitations that everyone struggles with. The main question being, can we rely on the support of God when it counts.

While the German and Polish soldiers who committed these assaults should be the ones shamed, it's the nuns who feel they need to hide, putting themselves and their unborn children at risk. How does seeking and receiving help from Mathilde help lift the burden of shame from their shoulders?
The process is not the same for all of them. Some will leave the community, others won’t, some with their children, some without. What they all share, thanks to Mathilde, is a new awareness – albeit received in moral and physical agony. Mathilde crosses a line, she disobeys her orders as an Army officer, so she can achieve exactly what the Army is meant to do: saving and protecting civilians. Similarly, the nuns disobey the Church (represented by the Mother Superior) so they can align with the ultimate Christian duty of saving and protecting human lives.
Although I’m a woman, it wasn’t until I started working on this project and looked at the big picture that I realized how valuable it is to have women as directors, and the beautiful films they have brought into the world, including yours. What would you want to say to all of the women directors out there who came before you and the ones that will come after you? Do you have any words of encouragement, gratitude, or tough love that you would want to impart to your colleagues?
I am a woman, and I am a director, but, to be honest, I don’t quite see myself as a "woman director”, in the sense I believe you’re referring to. I don’t regard “women directors” as members of a specific category. Whether my gender-blindness in that instance is a blessing or a curse, I don’t know. In any case, it’s probably a typically French approach. Our industry here has a wealth of “filmmakers that are women,” and the various people in that industry (actors, crew members, financiers, producers…) are now quite used to the notion. I’ve never felt I was being treated differently or held back because of my status as a woman – except maybe when I started, more than 30 years ago. I guess my main wish is that more and more countries allow more and more women to make films, so that the issue itself is permanently dissolved in reality.
To learn more about the Arts & Faith and the Top 25 Spiritually Significant Films Directed by Women list, please visit the Arts & Faith website.



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