Yves Derai: Are you a dreamer?

Francis Huster: No, not at all. I hate dreams. I reckon they’re a complete sham, just like the sun setting and rising. The sun doesn’t move; it’s the Earth that revolves around it.

Why do you hate them so much?

F.H.: On the one hand, I don’t like spending almost half my life in the dark. On the other hand, it’s a part of my life over which I have no control. You can’t influence your dreams. I’ve experienced waking nightmares because I was abused and raped as a child; I nearly died, and it’s on the basis of those nightmares that I’ve built myself up. In a way, it’s thanks to them that I’m happy.

Do you remember your dreams when you wake up in the morning?

F.H.: Until I was 60, I’d forget everything. For the last ten years or so, I’ve been remembering about 50% of what I dreamt. They’re always incredible stories; I wonder every time where I get all that from. A dream is a soliloquy; you’re talking to yourself. In the theatre, English actors perform soliloquies very well—they’re moments of truth—whilst the French find it harder. In fact, I’ve noticed that in the French language, there are verbs for every human action except for telling the truth. You can lie, but there’s no verb for telling the truth. Strange, isn’t it?

You, who are set to play a psychiatrist in the play "En thérapie", do you believe in dream interpretation?

F.H.: In my view, they are the key to the lock of our soul. But an artist is someone who isn’t in dreams but in their reality, even if they’re lying to themselves. I, for example, like to think there’s a hole in the sky where our souls will nestle after death. I’m probably lying to myself, but I still believe it. Artists invented inspiration, literally, drawing air from one’s soul.

Surrealists like Salvador Dalí drew their inspiration from their dreams…

F.H.: I knew Dali well. He never painted horizontally, never face-to-face; he needed an angle. Horizontally, one observes; from above, one judges; from below, one admires. Picasso was something else entirely. He didn’t paint; he unpainted.

How did you approach the role of this tormented psychiatrist who has to treat other people’s torments?

F.H.: First of all, I wanted it to be a play performed at 7 pm because you need to be 100% mentally engaged to really get to grips with the text.

At 9 pm, sometimes after dinner, people need big-budget shows or comedies. Then, I asked for my three patients to be young people, including two very beautiful girls, because I thought their inner suffering shouldn’t be visible on their faces. As for the psychiatrist, he undergoes his own therapy in front of the audience.

And I’d always dreamed of a play where Freud conducts his therapy.

You speak through the voice of Alexandre Dumas in The Legend of Monte Cristo, thanks to a fairly sophisticated artificial intelligence process. Is this a dream come true for you?

F.H.: I have great admiration for Alexandre Dumas. When the two Nakache brothers, who are producing the show, asked me to be the narrator, I accepted for two reasons: this work, precisely, is the stuff of dreams; and seeing two young people embark on such an adventure appealed to me. I put forward this idea of having the text spoken by an animated image of Dumas, and they immediately understood the value it would bring to the show.

What stands out most for you in this timeless work: love or revenge?

F.H.: Neither. The lesson of Monte Cristo is that you can betray anything, but you must never betray yourself. Even if it means losing your footing. And the other thing that strikes me about this story is that Monte Cristo never gives in. I have that trait too.

Is Edmond Dantès the ideal hero?

F.H.: Yes. Like Jean Valjean in Les Misérables. That explains the success of these works, by the way. These days, we no longer know how to create that sort of hero. The main characters in a film or a series have to be slightly flawed heroes. Consequently, the audience finds it hard to identify with them. The last area where there are still real heroes is football. That’s why the sport is so successful.

If you could make one dream come true?

F.H.: Without hesitation, to have Molière inducted into the Panthéon. I find it unimaginable that it hasn’t already been done. I tried to get it done through Emmanuel Macron, but it didn’t work out. I’ll try again with the next one. •

‘The Count of Monte Cristo’, from 28 January 2026 at the Dôme de Paris-Palais des Sports. Then on tour throughout France.

‘In Therapy’, from 17 January, at the Théâtre Antoine-Simone Berriau, Paris 10th arrondissement.

An article written by Yves Derai. Read it in issue 14 of Oniriq Magazine.

Translated by Bethszabee Garner