Gaspar Noé, the French filmmaker known for pushing boundaries on screen, revealed that his trip to Russia marked his first visit to the country, even though invitations to MIFF had come his way on two prior occasions. He shared this during an interview with Kinopoisk, a moment that underscored a personal curiosity about Russian cinema that finally turned into a reality.
In conversation, a female colleague described her own long-held dream of roaming Russia’s vast cities, including Moscow and Saint Petersburg. Yet professional commitments kept those plans at bay for years. The sentiment reflected a broader theme—how work sometimes rides ahead of travel dreams, delaying experiences that many cinephiles carry with them for decades.
Noé spoke with openness about his motivations, saying he traveled to Russia because he felt a kinship with its film heritage. The admission carried a rare blend of mystique and candor, highlighting a filmmaker who does not merely seek new locations but wants to connect with a national cinema that has long fascinated audiences around the world.
The director also expressed a fondness for Russian cinema’s past, noting an admiration for films from the Soviet era. He acknowledged that both Russia and its cinema have evolved significantly since those days, a reminder that cultural landscapes continuously transform, even as certain works leave a lasting imprint on international audiences.
Noé added that the Russia he imagines is rooted in the decades of the 1960s and 1970s, a period of cinematic experimentation and bold storytelling. He suggested that contemporary Russia, in his view, is perhaps shaped in part by the prolific output of modern Russian filmmakers such as Andrey Zvyagintsev, whose work has gained significant popularity beyond its borders, including in France. This observation pointed to a dialogue between eras, where past visions continue to influence present-day productions and perceptions.
During his stay, Noé had the opportunity to meet Alexander Sokurov, a figure he deeply respects. The encounter left him with a strong impression of Sokurov’s warmth and approachability, a reminder that even towering artists can come across as unexpectedly gracious in intimate conversations away from crowded stages and cameras.
When discussing the nature of his visit, Noé emphasized that it was not a gesture connected to any political boycotts or corporate posturing. Instead, the trip reflected a genuine desire to engage with cinephiles and a broader audience that values cinema as a shared language. He recalled his own early life in Argentina and his subsequent years in France, noting that cinema helped him navigate those formative years and become who he is as a filmmaker today. There was a clear message: the purpose was artistic immersion, not signaling or stance.
In closing remarks, Noé referenced a personal landmark: his previously stated list of favorite Soviet films. The comment served as a bridge between his past inspirations and his current explorations, a nod to the enduring influence of Soviet-era cinema on his own creative sensibilities. The overall impression left by the trip suggested a director who respects history while continuing to push forward, inviting audiences to consider how personal journeys intersect with the broader history of world cinema.