From the archives: Pedro Almodóvar, cinematic genius

In honor of Julieta, Pedro Almodóvar's 20th feature film, premiering at this year's Cannes Film Festival: A discussion that took place just prior to the release of his 15th big screen triumph, Bad Education.




(Los Angeles, 2004) LA weather is being uncharacteristically uncooperative when I slosh through pouring rain to meet Pedro Almodóvar at the plush West Hollywood hotel serving as his residence for the next month while he undertakes promotion for his latest masterpiece, Bad Education (opening in December in select U.S. cities). I’m thrilled to be meeting Almodóvar one-on-one, outside the realm of the usual press junket rigmarole – which the director himself likes to avoid. To quote a publicist scheduling our meeting, “As you know, Pedro is a very unconventional director, so there won’t be a conventional press day.” Hallelujah!

Although overjoyed I’m also nervous as hell, for this man – proclaimed as the greatest Spanish filmmaker since Buñuel and hailed as a genius worldwide – is an idol whose work has shaped my art and life significantly.

Truthfully, I can’t remember the very first time I saw an Almodóvar film, but I know I became a devotee immediately upon witnessing his absolutely unique brand of cinema. Everything about the way he made a movie – story, structure, characters, set design, camera angles, music, costumes – blew my mind and raised my consciousness to a new level of appreciation for what could be done on the big screen. Almodóvar’s work imbued me with the ideology that, because the medium of film was so multi-sensory and powerful, there was no restriction on the types stories you could tell or how you told those stories. With such a limitless outlet, why not take it to extremes to see how far you could go?

Although the main objective of this interview is discussing Bad Education, there are pages upon pages of questions I want to ask this man based on countless viewings of all his films over the past two decades. But when we sit down at his dining room table, I confess my anxiety to him, saying, “I’ve been waiting to talk to you for twenty years and now I can’t think of a thing to say!” Given his stature as an artist, I expect him to be a bit curt, impatient and detached thinking about all the other things he could be doing. But he is the complete opposite – incredibly inviting and very intent upon our discussion. I was astounded afterwards to realize how the mystery of Almodóvar as a sort of untouchable genius melted away in his absolute humanity. It was strong evidence that the reason for his acclaim is the fact that he just does what he loves to do and does it to the absolute best of his ability – his work gets his full attention and I really felt that he did the same during our conversation, too.

While I can speak Spanish and Almodóvar is able to speak English, both of us rely for the most part on our primary idiomas, although there are many times we switch languages. Plus, his faithful assistant Javier is on hand to translate. Thus, our conversation is an occasional three-way mishmash of Spanglish – a scenario just as out-of-the-ordinary as one might expect from Almodóvar – yet it is consistently candid and enlightening. Almodóvar never holds back, a fact I truly appreciate, and this quality sets me at ease immediately. And so it happens that the only downer to the whole interaction is the cold, gloomy climate; Almodóvar sighs and says, “It’s very disappointing to come to L.A. with this weather”, and I smile imagining how much the perfectionist in him is itching to exert directorial control and kill the sprinklers, clear the clouds and make the setting exactly to his liking.

Almodóvar started off as a filmmaker churning out shorts spotlighting Madrid’s underground art movement in the 70’s while holding down a day job with the phone company. Bad Education is his 15th feature-length film and marks his first attempt at paying homage to the conventions of film noir. Of course, being Almodóvar there’s almost nothing conventional about his noir: there is crime, but it’s hardly straightforward; there is a beautiful, seductive yet fatal antagonist, except he’s no femme fatale; and while there is a love triangle it happens to involve two ten-year-old boys and a Catholic priest.

Almodóvar takes two heartthrobs – Spain’s Felé Martinez (Lovers of the Arctic Circle,Open Your Eyes) and Gael García Bernal (Motorcycle DiariesY Tu Mamá Tambien) and completely transforms them so as to shock the hell out of fans who’ve grown comfortable seeing them a certain way. He’s done it before with the likes of Javier Bardem (in Live Flesh) and Antonio Banderas, who was one of Almodóvar’s staple actors, starring inLabyrinth of PassionMatadorThe Law of DesireWomen on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, and Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down! before crossing over to big-budget Hollywood.

In the film’s production notes as well as many other articles and interviews, Almodóvar insists that Bad Education is not an attack on the Church, nor is its reference to child molestation by a priest culled from anything that actually happened to him. But, like the best artists, he soaks up his surroundings – whether it’s personal interaction with friends and family or large-scale cultural movements – and reflects it back to an audience so we can all get a better look at ourselves.

Almodóvar has always done this, whether it was with his very first outrageous 8mm movies or in the lyrics of songs he wrote and performed as part of the punk rock drag duo Almodóvar y McNamara in the early 80’s. His films most often also reflect the theme of desire, physical or otherwise. It is passion that has fueled his every move; in fact, the last shot of Bad Education is a zooming close-up on the word “passion” – the one word that could sum up everything about what makes this man tick.

The first comment I wanted to make about Bad Education is that I’ve seen it three times –
Oh, good!

And I think it took that many times for it to settle in and for me to appreciate just the basics of it. I think I could see it again and still get more out of it. It’s incredibly ambitious. But actually, one of the things that first bothered me about the film was Felé Martinez. He’s one of my favorite actors but I’ve never see him that way – he was so not the Felé that I knew and loved. (Laughs)
No, not at all.

Yeah. And I was wondering if you had a model in mind for him, some sort of archetype that you based his standards on for his appearance and for his presence.

Obviously there are a lot of things that I share with the character, and Felé without having to imitate me, could take those elements from me as a reference. In general what I tried to do was get Felé to lose that air of adolescence. In that sense, I lowered his voice – his pitch and his normal tone – so that he would sound young but at the same time also mature, mature about the things that he wants out of life, the professional things that he’s seeking. And physically speaking, he’s thinner than normal. In an aesthetic way, I wanted him with different hair, kind of like the rockers at the beginning of the 80’s in Madrid. Not the extreme, hardcore rockers.

Right, I see that look in him. Not something like Almodóvar & McNamara [a pop duo Pedro was part of in the 80s].
(Laughs) No! But in Madrid in the late 70s and early 80s there was a big explosion about all the music. It’s true that at the beginning – I remember very well – that we were imitating new wave in England, but also some part of the new York scene – New York Dolls, the Ramones, all that stuff. But you are very young –

I know these things! I may be young but I’m a fan of all that music. (Laughs)
So you know that some were very radical looking. I wanted Felé to look like that more or less. And in fact people in Spain said what you said before: “My God – this is Felé? I can’t even physically recognize him!”

It’s true. It really took me aback and the first time I saw Bad Education I left thinking, “I don’t know if I can handle this new Felé!” But it drew me back, because every time I focus on a new character, and every time there’s something new about them.

In any case, Felé is the type of actor that can change completely. He has a face that can be a thousand faces and it depends on whether the director is demanding of it. But it seems to me that past directors didn’t demand a lot from him. But he has that face…I don’t mean neutral, it’s not that, but it’s something that if you put it to the test it becomes completely…

It’s whatever is internalized in him and his character – he can bring it out on his face, and I think that it was great that you pushed him to do that. It was wonderful.
Yeah, yeah! Also, you know, he was very ready to do it. He was very generous because the lack of prejudice the character demands, he also has for himself – he has no prejudice at all. So everything was easy and also that was good for the character because at that moment in time, us young people were really – it doesn’t matter what sexual orientation you were…. It was really one of the most free periods that I remember in Spain.

What’s interesting to me about the freedom is the fact that these characters come of age when they can make their own living and their own way in life with this incredible freedom because of the changes in the country. Yet the freedom destroys several of them and it very badly hurts the others. So, is there a message about freedom and having too much or knowing how to use it and being careful with it?
I think freedom is always necessary in every single aspect and on every level to develop, to enjoy life, to create, and basically just to be able to live. But as everything in life, you need to know how to administer it. So when I think back on that period I think back with nostalgia because it was a much better period, not only for Spain but also for the people that lived there. But I can’t help but think that lots of people died. Not because of freedom, it doesn’t mean that freedom killed them. What killed them was our own nature. As humans, we need to know how to administer things, because human beings have really dark sides. Those dark sides explode under freedom and under repression, but despite that in the end it’s better to have freedom.

You have to be very careful with the consequences when you mix freedom and danger. I think that more dangerous than all of that is war and it’s not funny at all. Not only do you die but a lot of people around you die, too. In the same way the Catholics have faith in God – which is a completely irrational thing that you cannot prove logically – my faith is not in God or in any religion but I also have that kind of blind faith in freedom and non-violence.

The thing that finally made me connect with Felé’s character was this notion of masochism I think a lot of us have inside of us –
More than masochism, it’s like risk.

Right. Well, he says he’s willing to put himself at risk to see what happens, and the metaphor of the woman hugging the crocodiles is very pointed and obviously about wanting to embrace what could hurt us or destroy us. I think all of us do that to an extent, some of us consciously and some of us unconsciously.
An artist should at one point at his or her life should look down into the abyss where the worst monsters that could destroy you could be. In that sense, he or she should jump down into the crocodile pit like the woman, and I believe that sometimes that person could actually win over the crocodiles. But it’s good for an artist. And you, as an artist who writes, need to feel this fear and get over it. For Felé’s character, his life is very tied to what he does, and that notion of risk is necessary for the artist to grow up.

When the movie begins, Felé’s character the director is in a creative crisis and the stories we see he’s interested in are stories full of mystery with elements of pain and definitely of risk. So in this mind frame, the doorbell rings, Gael’s character shows up – a guy surrounded by mystery on every side, because it’s obvious that it is not the friend that Felé’s character knew. But he also feels that behind this guy there’s a story. So as a detective would do, he gets onto a path and he doesn’t know where it’s going to take him, but it’s a path that he’s got to follow in order to find the story. And to make a movie, that detective-esque search is always implied.

In the production notes you talk about how the storyteller’s job is to delve into these characters to study and research them in order to better tell the story. With these characters that have so much mystery and so many layers to them, were there things about yourself – as a storyteller or as just a person – that you discovered through this in-depth search?
Definitely. Sometimes you create characters that are outside of yourself in the sense that you look for them outside of your surroundings or on the outskirts of your own self. When it’s characters like in this movie that are so close to me – in the sense that some of them have my profession or I have lived in the period and places where some of the characters were developed – that obliges you to go inwards and it’s a very painful process. I don’t know if I can say in words what they discovered about myself.

And did those discoveries end up on the screen? Are they acting out certain discoveries that you had about yourself?
No – I think that what you do is that you live with those discoveries. I’m obviously in all of my movies. But in these past three movies the implications of myself are…I wouldn’t say stronger, but an aspect of myself that I haven’t talked about in the past, one that has to do more with solitude, with communication or non-communication, and with absence. In a sense I still treat those aspects in the same baroque way through my characters, but I do it in a less flamboyant way now. And then in the process of shooting and actually working with these aspects it’s more painful than it was before. 

I’m glad about the results, you know, but I would like something – which is very contradictory because I’m sure that I’m not going to do it – like to start working again with something which is more out of my person and out of my life. But I don’t know.

What do you mean? Something that’s far from you?
More something that in general I don’t feel so involved with.

Okay, got you. Now here’s a related question: I know that you read a lot and there’s a lot of the noir elements in Bad Education similar to Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett stories. Quite a lot of that literature has been adapted into film and I’m wondering, now that we’re talking about something you could do that you’re not so involved in, has there ever been a book you’ve read that you would consider adapting, or is adaptation something that isn’t interesting to you at all?
Yes! I am possibly thinking about noir, there is a very rich bibliography of it –Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett, Pop. 1280 by Jim Thompson… And then there’s another one, I don’t know if it’s Jim Thompson but it’sThe Killer Inside Me, another completely very deep story of a serial killer and it’s incredible, it’s wonderful. 

But I don’t know. On one hand, I feel very respectful for the novels that I like, and on the other hand I know that there is a process I have to make the material mine at that moment. And also because – this is very contradictory – to make a movie I need absolutely, unconditionally, to feel involved in what I’m doing but at the same time I would like to be involved in something which is more stylized – in this case, you are right, this is a very good example. I don’t know, just to make a new James Bond movie but with all the freedom – which is impossible – or something that belongs to a genre that is entertaining and that I can be involved in the sense that they are movies that I like.

I don’t know. Funny Face by Stanley Donen – I really would like to do something like that and it’s a good exercise for me because it’s a genre that I feel close to, but it’s not like my own guts, which is what I’m using now and I’m… ugh! Very tired! (Laughs) It’s very exhausting.

True! Well, I guess it helps maybe to produce some of these movies that you’re working on with emerging filmmakers. [Almodóvar began a production company, El Deseo, in 1987 with his brother Agustín. The company now produces the work of other filmmakers in addition to all of Almodóvar’s films.]
Yes! That’s a sort of relief. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression – I’m very, very proud of making these past three movies, but I feel that I’m revealing such an intimate part of me that sometimes I feel a little ashamed. It’s not that want to keep secrets – it’s nothing to do with that. But I think it would be a good change for me in every sense if I make, let’s say, a new James Bond movie with a good writer and have it be as violent and as funny as they should be, and very stylized – because that was very important, the style that disappeared in the last ones – then I would be sincere, cinematically speaking, and I would be living another life that would be more fun.

When I mention the James Bond movie or say I want to do a movie far from what I’m doing now, what it means is that I would be changing my lifestyle in order to do that and be surrounded by people living a more fun life. These past three movies come out of solitude, a chosen solitude as a result of many elements, like age and other things. So when I say that the genre change would bring changes into my life what I mean is that probably that genre change could mean a change of lifestyle for me.

Yeah, that makes sense – from introversion to extroversion.
Yes! Um-hm.

So many of your videos are out of print. They’re hard to find on DVD –
They’re actually working on that now.

Are there going to be special editions or something like that?
Yeah.

Do you ever feel, as a perfectionist, tempted to go back and fix your movies or do a director’s cut?
It’s always a temptation but I think that movies are what you make under those circumstances. In Spain, it’s different because one does a movie under complete freedom and has final cut, so a director’s cut doesn’t make much sense. In Spain, it’s always the director’s cut. But it’s always a temptation to shoot other scenes.

But I think that directors have to be honest and humble enough to say, “This is the movie that I made – this is it, with the parts bad, irregular and good,’ and nothing else, because otherwise you would get into a very neurotic process where you would never finish the movie.

I want to talk about your process of getting to that final cut. One of the interesting things about the trio of characters that Gael portrays in Bad Education is that no matter how evil he is he beguiles the audience. I just couldn’t not like him, as bad as he was. He’s great but the character is a classic sociopath who charms and uses everyone and then throws them away.
It’s one of the elements of the genre, you know, to have this kind of person who should be beautiful because it’s part of the iconography of being lethal, like le femme fatale in the noirs. The spectator feels attracted to him physically but at the same time realizing that he’s a completely amoral character and is very evil.

Right! There’s this tug of war – you want to go get it but you know it’s so bad for you. But in that process with Gael and these characters, was there any contribution on his part, or from Felé after you told him what he should become? How do you work with actors in that way, when you’re rehearsing and you’re shooting, if they want to contribute something to the character that isn’t already there in what you’ve outlined and what you’ve explained?
I think the actors contribute and give you ideas about their characters without them knowing, mostly during rehearsals. And in that sense what I always do is to adapt the part to the person who is going to play it. Contribution is real but it’s not on the level of, “Hey, Pedro, what about if we were to do this?” That never happens.
In the case of Gael, I was bound to be the one that was giving him all the information because I had to explain the period in Spain when the story took place and how to become a transvestite from that period, which is completely the opposite of a drag queen nowadays. The cultures of Spain and Mexico in the 80’s were very different. He had to totally lose his Mexican accent and adapt a Spanish one. He went through femininity classes and physical training in order to wear high heels. And also he had to imitate Sara Montiel, who is the big gay icon. So there was not room for him to do new things or make suggestions.

But anyway, as I told you, I always adapt the character to the actor once I’ve decided who the actor is going to be. In this case, I knew the character could be different if there was another actor. For example, the fact that Gael is Mexican…he didn’t have the same sense of humor that we have. It’s a cultural question. So, if I could remake the movie with a Spanish actor, that character – above all when he is Zahara – could be much more funny in that way, with that humor, but I didn’t put a lot of that in [Gael’s] role because the humor is something very idiosyncratic – you’ve got to be Spanish. So I adapted that very much to him.

And because within the story it’s a character pretending to play someone else, I also show that sense of representation and impersonation in the movie. If Gael were to have played the part of Zahara worse than he is in the movie that would have actually ended up in the movie, because it’s part of his impersonation in the story. The aspect when Gael had to be completely precise was when he was Juan, because that was his primary identity. In that part, he’s exactly what he should have been. For the others, it was good to have that range, that space.


Also, I knew from the beginning it was almost inhuman to try to find a person that could be three completely different persons. This is impossible. So, what was interesting was how this guy is trying to imitate someone like his brother, and imitating exactly the things that he hated completely about his brother. That was what was interesting for Enrique, the director [character], to watch.

Yeah, and that’s such a compelling dilemma to put into a character, because I think it gets to the heart of a lot of aspects of human nature. You talk about sibling rivalry in the production notes and how that factors in this movie. We know that we love this person but there’s so much competition or struggle, and I think for the people that we love the most, we also most hate what’s wrong about them, too, because they disappoint us – we don’t want that disappointment, we don’t want them to be imperfect. We want them to be perfect and great so that we can love them more.
Yeah, yeah! And in real life it depends, it can be more dangerous. (Laughs) But in a movie, I mean, the more dangerous the character is the better – especially if he’s beautiful and handsome and complex. So for a character it’s wonderful to be like that. Also in real life it’s fascinating to be with someone who is a complete mystery…but you have to be prepared that behind that there will be a lot of problems. (Laughs)

Well, it’s like dating, you know?
Yes, yes, absolutely!

Anytime you meet somebody they could be completely what you don’t expect them to be.
Yeah, but it shouldn’t mean that you don’t date someone. I mean, you have to. (Laughs)

Yeah, or you join the convent. (Laughs) Now, the acting of the two boys is just extraordinary. The emotion that they bring out in watching their love story is so powerful. But when I finally did the math and realized how old they were in school I realized they’re about 10 or 11. I thought perhaps they were more around 13.
Yeah, the characters are 10 years old. The actors in fact are 13, but they were small.

To tell the story of two 10-year-old boys falling in love with one another is pretty intense. Did you ever consider making them older, having a bit of adolescence about them, or would that have changed things too much?
No. It was very important that they be very small to explain that, because the education they received was bad, they were not fully formed. It was very important that they be vulnerable beings who were at a point in their lives where they were starting to discover things about themselves, important things like sex. When you discover sex through a priest, it’s very traumatic and probably the worst way of discovering it.

But I wanted to actually tell the love story of two small kids – being very respectful with the actors, of course. That’s what you have the voiceover, so that you don’t have to shoot those particularly scandalous scenes. But I think 10 years old is an age where you could fall in love with someone. The feeling between the two boys is as intense as it would be between adults, or even stronger than that. When I say “falling in love”, I don’t think a 10-year-old would know about what we call “making love” – it’s a sensuality with less registers, but the feeling itself I think is as intense as if you were an adult.

Right, and you don’t need the act to have the feelings. It doesn’t need to correspond.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.


Having been raised as a Catholic and still considering myself a Catholic – culturally if not dogmatically – I’m interested in the religious aspect of the film. In the production notes you talk about being fascinated with the ceremonies, and I think it’s true of many other people that we don’t necessarily believe in these rules they’re laying down but we treasure the ceremony and the routine of it – it’s part of who we are.
Yes, of course! The same way that you would believe in spectacles that are laid out very well or poetry that is really well written and you don’t question whether it’s completely real. It belongs to another reality, which is a reality of our sensibilities. And that is very important, I mean, as important as reality is. For example, when two people get married: although I don’t believe in eternal love, the fact that two people are swearing eternal love to each other as a formula in this ceremony I think is marvelous. The ceremonies are not only made of superficial elements, they’re actually really profound ones that speak about our own selves.

I’ve been fascinated with Catholic liturgy since I was young. Although I’m not a believer and I lost my faith when I was a kid, I’ve always loved the liturgy aspect of it. And actually what I do in the movie is I take advantage of the liturgy, of these religious ceremonies, and integrate them as part of the script. So the ceremony becomes a humanized version because God disappears in the end. At least for me, they become cinematographic ceremonies.

For example, Zahara walks into the chapel when Father Manolo is conducting Mass. She hides behind the confessional. The confessional is there for someone to confess their sins. But cinematographically speaking, I make the confessional and the Mass exactly the opposite. 


[At this point he starts sketching the scene out on a notepad.]

Right, right – the priest is confessing.
Yes! The priest is conducting Mass and she walks in as they’re doing the Act of Contrition. And it’s as if Father Manolo would actually be confessing his sins to Zahara. Father Manolo says “through my own fault” and what Zahara should have said is also, “through my own fault”. But she says, “Through your fault” back to him. What I really like and I think I got it in the movie is the interaction between an actual religious ceremony and the cinematographic ceremony that I propose.

Or the sequence when the boy is singing so beautifully in the choir during Mass…it’s a way for the ceremony, which is normally about praising God, to be about humanity. In the movie, God disappears entirely. When the boy sings, he dedicates it to the other boy down below. The ceremony changes into something special where one is singing to the one he loves below. The priest is at the altar confronting a god who has no importance for the boy because what is important is the love one boy has for another. The Catholic ceremony, which should be about God in the end, disappears as the final objective in the Mass. It’s a ceremony between two human beings. The kid takes advantage of the ceremony as I do as a screenwriter.


[Pedro continues sketching] It’s a ceremony where I present the triangle, the geometric form that the movie will take from then on, through someone visiting someone else. But what I mean is that God is supposed to be the destiny of these ceremonies, but he disappears and then it becomes only the human beings relating themselves through the Catholic religious ceremony. I like to do it because I’m a movie director, but this also happens in Spain in a way. I remember my mother, who was a very deep believer – I think that the Spanish believer is more an idolater than a regular Catholic. For example, my mother didn’t care about what the Pope said yet she was a profound believer. She’d go to Mass when she could make it. But I think it’s very smart to adapt to your own circumstances in terms of religion.

Of course! Belief is internal and it’s about one person.
I think it’s the only way to believe.

Yeah – you are the only one living your own life, so you have to adapt your personal beliefs to your own circumstances.
Oh yeah, absolutely. And the Spanish believer does that very often. They trust the different saints that they are very devoted to, and also there are a lot of ceremonies that you share with your neighbors, and that is very interesting. For me, the best part of religion was that.

Yeah, interaction with everyone else.
Yeah – yeah, yeah!

Lastly, I’m going to refer to your “auto-entrevista” (self interview) in the production notes once again. You talk about mirrors reflecting not just a past but also a possible future, and how that sort of reflection factors in Bad Education. Explain those kinds of layers to me. It’s interesting how mirrors are supposed to reflect something purely and utterly, yet there’s nothing or no one truly pure or undistorted in the story.

Okay…There’s a situation between three people in a school: two boys and their teacher. It’s an extreme situation where someone abuses their power, with one to throw them out and with the other to abuse him.

These two boys become artists, and that’s where the first mirror comes in. Ignacio is going to write a story, which reflects his own point of view – his hopes, his revenge, his future, and his wishes. This story is going to be adapted by Enrique, the filmmaker, which means that we have a new reflection, a new mirror. Then, when their teacher arrives as Sr. Berenguer, he comes onto the movie set and he’s seeing a doubly reflected version of the events that he took place in, events in his own life. That double reflection doesn’t mean that it has to be true or complete. In fact, it’s not complete. We have two points of view coming from the same direction but we need his version to make everything complete and understandable.

So when I’m talking about reflection, I’m talking about this: that if you write something about your past, you are reflecting your past – well, bad, nicely, fairly, whatever. But also we are talking about movies, and I put something very didactic about that in here. I mean, I like the idea that the screen reflects the life of the people watching it. It’s just one romantic idea about cinema that of course sometimes is true and sometimes is not.


And just to demonstrate that, while the characters are waiting for the climactic situation to be consummated, they watch parts of two movies, and both movies have people in the same situation that they are living. In this case, the screen is reflecting the problems at the same moment when they are living them. For that reason, when they leave the cinema, Berenguer says a line that everybody loved in New York [at the New York Film Festival, where the film had been screened the week before]. (Laughs) I liked that, because also it’s sort of funny and strange. He says, “All the movies talk about us.” And that was also a reflection.

Right, and that’s when a movie is good, I think, when people will say, “That movie is saying something about my life”. That’s when people react to it best – or maybe not, if it’s not a good thing that is being said about their lives. (Laughs) 

But I guess reflection is subjective.
And you know, multiplicity comes further when people write about and make movies about the movie itself, and with those people, there’s always a new sort of representation or reflection. 

Even if you do a documentary or if you do something which is “real” and without bad intention, the moment that you sit down in front of the computer there establishes a distance with reality. It becomes a representation.



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