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Interview: François Ozon Talks Young and Beautiful

He admits that Isabelle was a mystery to him—one he constantly tried to crack while making Young and Beautiful.

Interview: François Ozon Talks Young and Beautiful
Photo: Sundance Selects

François Ozon’s Young and Beautiful will inevitably be compared to Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac. Both films zero in on a young woman with an insatiable libido—a woman determined to lose her virginity as soon as possible, and rather inexplicably compelled to carry out continuous sexual exploits. But whereas von Trier characteristically aims to punish his audience, all the while presenting a kind of snarky, anthropological farce, Ozon largely plays it straight, artfully examining a gorgeous adolescent, Isabelle (Marine Vacth), whose embrace of her sexuality is so intense that she opts, out of anything but necessity, to become a professional escort (she dons her mother’s clothes, lies about her age, and slips in and out of hotel rooms on school nights). It’s a murky topic even for Ozon himself, who, when meeting me in the café at New York’s Mercer Hotel, admits that Isabelle was a mystery to him—one he constantly tried to crack amid the process of making Young and Beautiful.

For me, the title of this film relates to how women can be sexually demeaned, and it’s most expressed when Isabelle’s mother’s boyfriend sizes Isabelle up, essentially saying that, for being young and beautiful, she’s asking for attention. The line comes off as more misogynistic than any of the “whore” insults Isabelle endures. What did you most want to express in regard to how men, or maybe all of us, view female sexuality?

For me, when I do a film, there’s little difference between whether [the protagonist] is male or female. This film could be about a boy doing prostitution. The only difference would be that I would have to deal with homosexuality, because, when you’re a boy of 16 and you’re doing prostitution, very often you have to sleep with old men. That was the first idea—to do a film about a boy exploring and discovering his sexuality. But I thought it would be too heavy to have prostitution and homosexuality. Eventually, I just wanted to do, not a lighter movie, but a more girlish movie. But you’re asking if it’s a male fantasy? That’s what a lot of people have said about the film.

No, I didn’t read it as a male fantasy.

Oh, well that’s good.

But I did respond to how the mother recoiled at the boyfriend’s remark. Because even though her daughter is the one willfully insinuating these acts, she’s still being shamed, if even unwittingly, from a male perspective, as if her youth, beauty, and gender are part of an invitation she should apologize for.

Well, what also amused me was that it’s difficult for a stepfather to find his place in the family. And what he says is really a cliché about young girls. It’s a chauvinistic expression, the words he uses. He’s pretty maladroit when it comes to adapting to this family. But he tries. Very often, we say clichés in real life, whether they’re about males or females. For him, the situation’s not shocking, it’s obvious. People are asking to sleep with her because she’s so beautiful. It’s a tradition of so many centuries of machismo and paternalism. I wanted to play with this cliché and show the complexity of that, and the ambiguity of the situation.

There was a recent news story about an American female college student who admitted to doing porn to pay for her education.

Yes, we see similar things in France.

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Well, it brought up a lot of questions about female empowerment, and how, for many, that idea can be murky when it comes to women using their own bodies. Can you describe the ways in which you see Isabelle as being empowered?

I think she’s a very powerful girl. She controls everything, and it’s not necessarily because she has the desire of the men. The fact that she’s submitting in certain sexual acts doesn’t mean she doesn’t have the power. It’s like when you watch something sadomasochistic—we see one partner as the victim, but that’s not the reality. What interested me is that she controls everything, everything is easy for her, prostitution is easy, until the death of [one of her johns]. At this moment, everything is destroyed, and she’s in front of something of reality, which is this death. She realizes what she did at this moment. It was important.

I found it interesting that, in both instances in which we literally see Isabelle positioned on top, and visually dominant, once with the old man and once with her boyfriend later, neither scenario ends well. What were you hoping to achieve there? Why give her power and then cause her pain?

[laughs] It’s funny to think of the sexual position as meaning something. I think, with the old man, she has pleasure, maybe for the first time. She has her own sexuality and she can focus on her own pleasure, which isn’t the case with the other clients. And the difference with the young boy is she’s giving him pleasure—she helps him to have pleasure. So I think it is about power, but at the same time, there’s a real exchange in these two scenes. And that’s not because she’s up, or because she controls everything. She’s learning her sexuality with these two men, but I don’t think it’s a judgment, or that the men are condemned because of that.

Speaking of control, it’s interesting that, as you said, Isabelle seems in control of all these scenarios, yet there are times when her desire seems clearly beyond her control. Can you describe the push and pull of these two elements?

Yes. She’s not about to connect any notions to sexuality. She doesn’t know where her desire is. In a very naïve way, she decides she will rediscover her desire by becoming the desire of men. It’s a very naïve way to think and discover things—except with the old man. He’s able to watch her differently and think about her pleasure. I wanted to show this young girl who embodies the Rimbaud poem that’s read in the film: “No one’s serious at 17.” And yet, in a way, Isabelle is still very serious. She thinks very seriously. She’s exploring her identity. She just finds a very strange way to do it.

I did want to ask about that poem. Has Rimbaud’s work been influential to you, or influential on this project in particular?

It’s a very famous poem in France. Everybody knows it. And the line, “No one’s serious at 17,” is a kind of motto. Everybody knows this line. So it was interesting for me to use it in the film, and to ask young people—the extras in the film [who play students]—what they think about the poem. And what the extras say in the film is what they really felt.

So the inciting incident of the movie—Isabelle’s loss of innocence—is her beachside loss of virginity. Were you more interested in exploring the aftermath of a young woman’s deflowering or the aftermath of a young woman’s first love? Do you think she had any love for the boy, Felix?

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No, I don’t think she was in love with him. I think, like many young people, she wanted to get rid of her virginity—to get over it. She wants to turn the page and say, “It’s done. Now it’s time to do serious things.” And I think she chooses this boy because he’s cute, and he’s nice, but she’s not in love. And actually, he’s a bad lover. And for me it was important to express that, very often, the first time isn’t good for anyone. I don’t know someone who, boy or girl, had a good experience their first time. And this is also the first instance of the doubling [of Isabelle] in the film. I wanted to show the experience of making sex and watching ourselves having sex. I don’t know if it’s true of everyone, but there is this fantasy and phenomenon of wanting to see yourself and be outside of yourself during sex. I wanted to show that during her first sex scene.

The scene you’re describing is one of many that feature a pronounced use of black, and shadow. The film opens with a voyeuristic, binocular point of view that blocks out certain areas with black, and just after, Isabelle’s brother Victor’s shadow is cast across her body. It seems like there are many instances in which she’s either emerging from, or descending into, shadow. Can you discuss those choices of visual contrast?

It’s a metaphor of what the film is, for sure. I tried to make clear what this girl’s motivations are, because she’s a mystery even to me. So with the use of light, I tried to explore what’s behind her eyes. The light and shadow were very important. We had many conversations with the DP, and we decided not to shoot the film in digital, but in 45mm, to have the sensuality of the film stock. And the film is really a portrait—we tried to light Marine’s face in different ways to get inside what her personality is.

And in relation to the scene with the brother, I found that sibling bond to be very interesting—you have this other young person blossoming in tandem with Isabelle, and almost vicariously experiencing her experiences. Can you describe the genesis of that relationship?

What interested me was to show that he’s a child, she’s an adolescent. He’s 12, she’s about 16. So that’s just four years between them, but it’s a big gap at this age. Because he hasn’t yet discovered his sexuality and she’s in her sexuality. At the start I wanted to show the connection between the two, but after she has sex, she wants to distance herself from her brother to protect him. She thinks, “I’m living through very strong and disturbing things, and he’s not about to understand what I’m living.” And you realize by the end of the film that he’s understood everything. Because today, young people are already capable of watching porn films, and they’re already used to sexuality because of the technology that’s available.

I think my two favorite moments of the film are, first, when Isabelle’s mother suggests that she give her earnings to a charity that helps young prostitutes, and second, when Isabelle critiques the comparatively minimal hourly rate of her therapist, whom she offers to pay with her earnings. There’s this ultimate, cheeky flip-flop of power going on.

I think the mother tries to do her best. She’s a very open-minded woman. She’s progressive. But she’s inept.

Well, she certainly seems bound by tradition, which would go against the notion of being progressive.

Yes, yes. And it was important for me to show the irony of this situation. And for Isabelle, she can’t stand it. When you’re a teenager, everything your parents say is absolutely unbearable for you. Her mother’s goodwill is that she’s trying not to minimize her daughter’s love for her. And the psychoanalyst, in the other scene, is a real psychoanalyst. I met him because he’s a specialist in France with teenagers. I gave him the script and I asked him what he thought, and if he believed in the situation. And he read it, and he said many things about it, and I asked him, “If the girl told you, ‘I want to pay with my money,’ what would you say?” And he gave the answer that’s given in the film. And after that, I said to the casting director, “Why don’t we just ask him to play the part? He’s good!” And he actually wanted to be an actor when he was very young, so it worked out for everyone.

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I love that. And how did you finally decide on casting Marine as Isabelle? She’s stunning.

I did a long casting process. I met many young French actresses, and when I met Marine, it was obvious. She was mysterious, she was beautiful, but behind the beauty there was something very strong. I loved the melancholy, the sadness in her eyes; it was exactly what I was looking for. It was a miracle. After casting, we had a lot of work to do together to make her confident and feel comfortable, especially with the sex scenes. But she’s very natural, and clever, and she was totally involved in the making of the film.

I don’t want to go into too much detail and spoil anything, but I particularly loved the Charlotte Rampling cameo, and her character made me think of Charlotte’s character in Under the Sand—a woman who spent a certain amount of time in the south of France, suffered a loss, and is now without a husband. Did those connections occur to you?

I didn’t think about Under the Sand, no. Charlotte is just an old friend. We’d done three other films together already, of course, so we’re very close. And when I decided to cast Marine, for me it was obvious that Charlotte was perfect for the role [that she plays]. They are very similar actresses. Charlotte, when she was young, was very sad-eyed and mysterious, like Marine. So it was clear for me to have a link between these two women. I wanted to have a real scene of exchange between two generations, and Charlotte is very generous and never competing with other women. I think the scene between the two of them is strong because there are two levels of looking at it: It’s the two characters together, and it’s also an older actress giving something to the younger actress.

There’s also a sisterly quality to the scene, because Charlotte’s character seems to be the first one who’s truly wiling to understand Isabelle’s sexuality and isn’t rushing to judge it.

Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted. Plus, it was important to have someone neutral, someone exterior. And I had an intuition that it would turn out exactly as it did.

R. Kurt Osenlund

R. Kurt Osenlund is a creative director and account supervisor at Mark Allen & Co. He is the former editor of Out magazine.

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