I’m Catalan filmmaker Pere Vilà Barceló isn’t afraid to tackle difficult topics in his movies – and make you think and talk about them.
His 2014 film The Grave tells the story of a man who hears about the discovery of a mass grave and escapes from a nursing home to confront his past on the site of the Battle of the Ebro, the longest and largest battle of the Spanish Civil War. He also is one of the directors of the 2018 film The Wind Is This, about the emotional journey of two teenage girls suffering from an eating disorder.
Now, 13 years after The Stoning of Saint Stephen, about an elderly, sick man threatened with eviction who is convinced that he is living with the presence of his deceased wife and daughter, he returns to the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival (KVIFF) to bring his new film to the Crystal Globe Competition of its 59th edition.
When a River Becomes the Sea, starring Claud Hernández, Àlex Brendemühl, Laia iMarull, and Bruna Cusí, again promises difficult viewing, important debate, and soul-searching.
“The heroine of his sixth film is Gaia, a young archaeology student, whose relationship with herself, and with those around her, is forever marked by a traumatic event,” notes a synopsis on the KVIFF website, which describes the film as an “uncompromising, introspective probe into the soul of a girl who is sexually abused. … Initially, Gaia cannot find the words to describe her situation, let alone the courage to speak about it.”
Before its KVIFF world premiere on Tuesday, July 8, Vilà Barceló talked to THR about When a River Becomes the Sea, why he isn’t afraid to tackle sensitive issues and does so with a particularly deep sense of responsibility, the imagery and metaphorical aspects of his new film, and what he might do next.
Why did you want to take on the topic of sexual assault with this story and why now?
In my previous film, titled The Wind Is This, I explored eating disorders. I undertook that project after spending a year in contact with teenagers.
Gender-based violence emerged as an issue that needed to be addressed. More than ever, I felt my cinema had to take on more social responsibility. I felt the need to get involved. I started some film workshops eight years ago with teenagers aged 16 and 17. I met girls who had been raped and sexually assaulted. The truth is that, as a person, I felt the need to use my profession as a tool for awareness.
Although the film is being released now, I’ve actually been working on it for eight years. Sadly, it’s a problem that doesn’t go away. In fact, in the last 48 hours here in Spain, there have been six gender-based murders: five women and a two-year-old child were killed.
It’s a story set in Spain, but unfortunately also a universal story. What interviews and research did you do to dive so deeply into a woman’s psyche and struggles and what female input and guidance did you seek?
This was the most important part of the project. After meeting the first girls in that school, I reached out to several foundations, associations, and above all, the SIEs – public services that specialize in care and support for women, children, and teenagers affected by gender violence. This led me to conduct over a hundred interviews with women who trusted me and shared their life experiences. Rape, assaults, psychological violence, women of all ages, married, with children, or very young girls. I also spoke with many psychologists and visited shelters for women survivors who had fled their homes.
This entire process changed me as a person. I underwent a personal awakening that altered my perspective. And the more I advanced in my personal process, the more the film project evolved.
You use images and metaphors from nature (river and sea, the sounds of birds, green landscapes, even the name Gaia) and the metaphor of archaeological excavations to paint the picture of women’s experience. How did you find and decide to use nature and excavations as fitting images?
Archaeology has been part of me since I was a child. I had gone on numerous archaeological digs. Perhaps that’s why I understand people as a succession of layers. We are strata, a stratigraphy built over the years. If we ever wonder who we are, what we are, what we’ve done, or why we think or act a certain way, we need introspection. We need to excavate within ourselves.
From that point of view, archaeology has always fascinated me as a tool for historical research, a way to dig into the Earth, its natural elements, to understand who we are and why we act as we do. So, an archaeological dig seemed like the most meaningful space for the protagonist to have the realization that she had been assaulted, raped.
During the documentation process for the project, through the interviews, I also explored all the ongoing research and advances in archaeology from a gender perspective. That again inspired me deeply, a new layer of change in my outlook. Thus, archaeology, with its layers and levels that must be excavated to understand a given historical moment, felt like the right way to portray the characters I was creating. A young girl experiences rape and initially isn’t even aware of it. She then goes through a series of phases similar to mourning. And suddenly, she feels the need to understand. What was her personal process that made her live that moment as something normal? What kind of education had she received to normalize gender violence? What historical processes happened around her to create this society where violence against women is normalized? To find answers, she undertakes an internal excavation we don’t see. But I try to express it with the metaphor of excavations and the presence of nature.
The concept of the Earth, and its spirituality, is central. The Earth is not ours. The sense of ownership we often project onto the planet is a flawed perspective. Looking back at early human history, this notion of possession didn’t exist. Humans were part of the Earth, not its owners. This is also where the film’s archaeological dimension comes into play: the connection to a past where we lived immersed in nature, not separate from it.
Nature, to me, has its own spirituality, which lies in its chaotic harmony. If humans don’t intervene, everything finds its place. It may seem like an unfair balance from our viewpoint, but it is a balance. Nature lives and simply is. I wanted this concept to be another layer within the film’s narrative structure.
You show us the process of coping with trauma, which can’t be rushed. How did you choose elements, such as sound, cinematography, light and shadows, dialogue and more, to portray this slow healing?
Again, all the conversations with women survivors of gender violence answer this question. These were conversations that could last five or six hours straight, and we often resumed them later. Some women allowed us to film their reflections or even intimate moments, like one young woman showing us the place where she was raped.
The words they shared with me, the precision of details, the emotions, all of it gradually became images. Images that had to be faithful to what they had told me. My goal from the start was to convey to the audience the feeling I had when leaving those conversations, a mix of emotions hard to decipher, emotions that took me days or weeks to digest. That’s what the film had to be. That was the emotional rhythm that, in cinema, had to be translated into narrative rhythm.
All of this led to a very organic way of working with sound, imagery, and performances. The whole crew internalized this. That allowed the technical aspects to align with the human ones.
How did you go about the casting to find the right people to portray such complex issues?
This is the third film I’ve worked on with Àlex Brendemühl, an extraordinary actor and an excellent person. We understand each other very well. Many of our conversations are more personal and human than cinematic. I’m lucky he’s always had so much trust in me. In that sense, I always prioritize personality, human qualities.
With Bruna Cusí and Laia Marull, we spoke beforehand, got to know each other, and talked about the project. We agreed on both the approach and the need for the film’s theme. Their acting talent is immense, but their human qualities also shine on screen.
As for Claud Hernández, she’s truly an incredible actress. She was the one who contacted me when I had already been searching for the lead actress for two years. She saw an announcement about the project while still in drama school, and that’s how it all began. She fully committed to the project. She immersed herself in the character even before there was a script or dialogue. She explored emotions through our conversations and her own talks with women survivors of gender violence. She adapted to my fragmented way of working, four years of filming in blocks, months apart, full of reflection and conversations with survivors.
It was a space for personal growth, for her to grow and live her life. But her ability to hold onto the character and make it evolve was extraordinary. Working with her is undoubtedly one of the most important events in my career as a filmmaker.
What are you working on next?
Together with the film’s production company, Fromzero, we are working on a documentary series which, alongside the film, will form part of an educational project aimed at discussing gender-based violence with younger generations.
At the same time, I’m also working on a project about bullying, about aesthetic pressure in early adolescence. A project about the lack of values in educational centers. A project where I’m applying the same working methodology as I used in When a River Becomes the Sea.
As I’ve explained, I believe in cinema’s responsibility, and I’m committed to creating a project that fosters social awareness. I know we won’t change the world, but we can help some people. I need to believe in this transformative power of cinema.
‘When a River Becomes the Sea’
Courtesy of KVIFF
‘When a River Becomes the Sea’
Courtesy of KVIFF
