"Women have always been my source of spiritual progress and elevation
in life," says
French director Jean Pierre Sinapi.
With his latest film Nationale
7, he breaks the taboo of disabled sexuality with a ferocious
humor and a small DV camera. In this film, which won the Audience
Prize at both Berlin and San Sebastian festivals, Sinapi pays a tribute
to a woman very dear to his heart -- his sister, a nurse at a home
for the disabled. She, along with a long-time friend who died four
years ago, inspired the main characters of this new gem on the festival
circuit.

Tell
us about the genesis of Nationale 7...

Nationale
7 belongs to a collection of telefilms called "Small Camera," shot
for [French television station] Arte. This collection was a pro ject of
Jacques Fansten, a producer from Telecip, who submitted it to Pierre Chevalier,
from Arte. The idea was to ask directors from different horizons to make
films with small DV cameras. The budgets were very small, an average of
4 million francs (around $510, 000), which is very low, even for a telefilm.
We were free to choose any kind of subject and film it the way we wanted,
provided it was with a small DV camera.

When I was
asked to join in, I had no idea for a script. I managed to give a few
to Jacques and Pierre, but they didn't get picked up. As a last resort,
I said to Jacques: "Listen, I have this story which no one will ever want
to see on film. My sister is a nurse at an institution for spastics near
Toulon. I am familiar with spastics, I used to drive my sister's patients
around Paris when they came to visit the capital. And the thing is, they
always wanted to go round the Bois de Boulogne. I was in the van with
them, and they would just gape at all these beautiful women and transvestites
in complete wonderment. So, one day, I asked my sister: "Do handicapped
people have a sexual life, do they have love stories?" And she told me:
"Of course, they have! They're just like you and I!" And she started to
tell me the story of this guy who, for the first time at the institution,
had asked a nurse to take him to see a prostitute. He had told the nurse:
"No ordinary woman will ever want to make love with me, only a prostitute
might want to..."

So
the nurse took her tape to measure the doors of the prostitutes' caravans
scattered along the Nationale 7. Then she tried to persuade a prostitute
to meet her patient... and the prostitute accepted. Not only René, but,
little by little, many more handicapped persons. So she became a teacher
for special needs in her own way! (laughs) When my story was over, Jacques
told me: "Just go for it, this is well worth a Maupassant story!" So I
wrote a script in three months with Anne Marie Matois, a literary editor
turned producer. I wanted to shoot the film at my sister's institution,
but it proved impossible when, only 15 days before the shooting, the director
of the association got out of the project, fearing that the parents of
handicapped persons belonging to the governing body would be shocked.
The film was in great danger here, because among the 21 characters of
the story, 18 were to be portrayed by professional actors, very sought-after
ones, like Olivier Gourmet, from La Promesse and Rosetta
(Palme d'Or Cannes 1999), and Nadia Caci. I had to find another solution.
So I sent the script to the national association for handicapped persons,
they read it in a week end and told me: "This story coincides with our
present concerns. Just choose the institution where you want to shoot
the film..." So eventually I shot this film at a home 40 kms away from
Paris, much to the despair of the previous home's patients, who were willing
to play in the film.

Did
you draw on the patient from your sister's institution for René's character?

In fact,
I drew on an old friend, named René Amistadi, who used to be a mineworker
in Lorraine and died from myopathy at the age of 50. He helped me define
the working class elements of my first script - I was a screenwriter for
15 years before making films. Although René was afflicted with myopathy,
he carried on dating women, he lived with women until the end of his life.
He was not a long-time home resident, as his disease started at a late
age. We always wanted to write something about handicapped people, but
he died 4 years before the idea for this film finally came about. I wanted
to pay a tribute to him with this film, and to my sister as well... since
it's also her story that I am telling in this film. But she doesn't like
people to know that Julie's character is in fact herself (smiles).

Did
you screen the film at the home where your sister works?

Unfortunately
no, they saw it on television. But I screened it at the the other one,
where there were very mixed reactions! The handicapped loved the film,
but people from the administration reacted rather badly to it. They thought
it was a direct attack on them. The fact is that this story triggered
a real discussion within the institution. Some people were in favour of
it, others rejected it. Especially the men, who felt much more uncomfortable
about taking handicapped persons to prostitutes than the women.

You
deliberately set a comic tone for the film...

Maybe I chose
a comic tone because I am of Italian origin and I love Italian comedies
of the 70s and 80s, like Pain au Chocolat and Nous nous sommes
tant aimés. Also, I think that the more painful things are, the more
necessary laughter is when telling others. Otherwise, I think nobody would
dare go and see this film! (laughs) Moreover, I want to share laughter
with the disabled. When you meet someone who is in a wheelchair, you never
know how to address this person, you feel ill-at-ease... Well, there's
no reason to behave like that! Handicapped people are normal people, they
can be stupid, they can have faults, you can make fun of them, laugh with
them. This is what I wanted. I think it's one of the most beautiful ways
to show them respect. They are normal human beings, with faults and a
sexuality.

What
was the shooting like?

I shot this
film in 23 days with a small crew: a sound engineer, a cameraman, a trainee
make-up girl and a trainee costumer. As I don't like to hold the camera
myself, and I didn't feel very comfortable with the DV, I sought one of
the best cameramen in France, Jean Paul Meurisse, who held the camera
for Lars Von Trier on Breaking the Waves. One may like or not like
this film, but the look of it and the camerawork are superb. So I sent
him the script and he said to me: "That's a crazy story you have here,
I'll go for it!" And he has since become my cameraman, we've just made
another movie together.

What
were some of your biggest challenges?

I wanted
the spectator to have the same kind of experience that I had. When you
meet one handicapped person, it's OK. But when I first found myself at
my sister's home facing 50 patients who trembled and dribbled eating,
well I started to wonder: "Where on earth am I?" I pretended to have lunch
with them, but I just couldn't. That was a very brutal experience for
me. Then, one of them tried to tell me something. But however hard he
tried, I just couldn't understand him. So I told it to my sister, and
she told me: "Well, just tell him that you don't understand! Then, he
will find a way to communicate with you." So I told the guy that I didn't
understand him, and trying harder, he found a way to make me understand
what he meant. From that moment on, I never looked at him the same way
since I could communicate with him. And I very quickly forgot the wheelchair.
In Nationale 7, the first part is rather "hard", and quite a lot
of people have told me: "Jean Pierre, we don't understand what you want
to show in the first 10 minutes, we just felt like leaving..."

Julie
is both a very naïve and determined character...

Julie is
a woman who has just begun working in the home, she doesn't have much
experience, and she's been stuck with the sole patient no one's willing
to care for, the big René, who, at the beginning, seems to be a real jerk.
Julie is very naïve, but so is my sister. She is deeply naïve, but at
the same time, when she makes up her mind about something, she goes all
the way. I think you do need some resolve to talk a prostitute into making
love with a handicapped person.

How
do you consider René's character?

I think he's
like a metaphor for men. He's stuck in a wheelchair, he's got his head
full of love dreams but he can't act them out. Handicapped people fantasize
a lot, you know, they watch porno films, they stick posters of naked women
on the walls of their bedrooms, because all they're left thinking of is
sex. By the way, I can tell you that for the very first time, at my sister's
home, a handicapped girl was taken to visit a male prostitute... All this
doesn't mean that handicapped persons have no love stories. One of the
characters of the film, the one who says "Hello, René, good bye, René,"
has a wife and has just had a child with a handicapped woman, who hid
her pregnancy from the administration so they wouldn't abort her. You
know, for the film, I chose a home for people with mild disability. But
if you actually saw the guy my sister took to see a prostitute, you would
be amazed. He's skeleton-like, his legs are supported by splints...

The
character of Rabah might appear to be a caricature...

I wouldn't
have imagined such a character had he not existed! (laughs) My dear Rabah...
(laughs)

Your
film was awarded the Audience Prize both in Berlin and San Sebastian.
How do you account for such a popular success?

I think people
can recognize themselves in the film. We just forget the wheelchairs and
we identify with René's character, with his yearning for love. I think
that people can also relate to the gap that exists between fantasy and
reality and which, is René's case, is materialized by a wheelchair. I
think we all live with this gap. Also, it's difficult to talk about your
sexuality, to live your sexuality, it's never easy; neither heterosexual
nor homosexual relationships are easy. With René, these things of life
are clear, simple, we can all relate to them. What really surprised me
was that the San Sebastian audience reacted the same way as the Berlin
one. People were really laughing and cheering. That was amazing. So I
think there is something universal about this story. Something simply
human...

Interview
by Robin Gatto & Yannis Polinacci