In her first film Hic Rosa, partition botanic (Hic Rosa, Botanical Score, FID 2007), Anne-Marie Faux put the figure of Rosa Luxembourg at the core of a political and poetic reflection on commitment, its purpose and the necessary to transcend it. Here, the project takes a different, more intimate and audacious turn: she puts to the test her own experience, utopias and desires. There is no denying that autobiographical intentions and introspection have their pitfalls. But a man's voice off screen sets the tone from the start: "There is no such thing as a private diary. The very expression is nonsensical." No chance then to see outpourings, confessions or explanations. Here, the "I" unfolds in bits and pieces. From one reading to another, through various bodies and voices, the words get muddled up. Anne-Marie Faux intertwines her own family tales taken out of the History of the century with fragments of texts borrowed to others, which she uses as a solid base. Voices and bodies, yesterday's and today's faces, from one time and one life to another, slowly weave a personal path. Along the way, she furtively pays tribute to Virginia Woolf or Chaplin, among others, thus interlocking the inner and the outer space. The film gives an insight into private gardens, childhood nooks and crannies, where entangled political and intimate realities become an invitation to keep on "living and climbing, head on to the wind", as Rosa Luxembourg's words call upon us to do.

Face au vent, partition buissonnière

It’s firstly the portrait of an area, France’s north coast between Dunkirk and Calais, where Olivier Derousseau lives and works: ransacked landscapes, port installations, plumes of smoke from the chimneys of petrochemical facilities, blown by the wind… It’s also a musical suite in five parts, a kind of minimalist blues lovingly composed in memory of time and people that have disappeared: the constant bass of juggernauts on the motorway, the percussion of the wind in the microphones, all the world’s sounds blending into a repetitive guitar thread. And it’s a melancholy meditation on the stuff of days, the flesh of the future, on irretrievable erasure and the traces waiting and hoping to be saved.