Behind the Hitchcockian allure and blonde hair, Mélanie Laurent’s bubbling energy shines through: Libre, her biopic on Sulak, is a hit on Prime Video, following the success of Voleuses, a sort of French-style Tarantino, on Netflix. On the big screen, she recently took on the role of a twilight Marie Antoinette in Le Déluge. But behind this creative frenzy lies a sense of urgency: commitment. As the patron of the “Mission Polaire” exhibition at the Monaco Oceanographic Institute, she champions a cinema that is as vibrant as it is necessary.
A leading actress, a recognized director: at what point did the decision to step behind the camera become clear to you?
Mélanie Laurent: Directing has always been a part of me. As a child, I wrote a lot and put on plays for my family. My grandmother would tell me stories, but above all, she would act them out, as if life were a never-ending theater. I imagine that directing is the natural extension of that childhood steeped in storytelling.
At Hector Berlioz High School, I took a film elective: three years of short films, learning about the visual image—an experience that reinforced my desire to direct.
Later, I continued to experiment. When I was still living with my parents, we were neighbors with Cédric Klapisch and Bruno Levy. At the time, Bruno was a casting director, which is how I met him. He became a producer with Klapisch, and one day, when I was 22, he said to me: “It would be great if you directed.” ” I probably would have gotten there on my own, but he sped up the process. He gave me the confidence that pushed me to take the plunge.
You seem driven by a creative frenzy. You notably directed the music video “Rallumer les étoiles” for Mylène Farmer. What is your connection to music?
M.L.: I love music, but more broadly, sound.
A film first exists on the page, then it reinvents itself on set, in the editing room, and finally through sound and music. This obsession is as strong as that for the image: sound sculpts emotion; it dresses it. With Alexis Place, a sound designer, we seek out the details, the life, sometimes to the point of the fantastical. It’s fascinating.
For the past three films, I’ve had the pleasure of working with incredible musicians: Asaf Avidan for Le Bal des folles, then Sébastien Tellier for my latest film. In the past, lacking access to major composers, I tended to downplay music in my films. Today, I’ve come to understand its emotional power. This shift marked a turning point in my approach to directing.
Mylène Farmer was a wonderful encounter…
M.L.: She is an extraordinary woman who has remained a friend. She has a magnificent soul. I attended her concert at the Stade de France: seeing her soar over the crowd in mystical silence, before fifty thousand people shouted in unison… It was fascinating.
And yet, I know her in a completely different light. It’s always surprising to get close to these almost divine figures and see them as simply human. Mylène is a rare, unique artist. One of the few today who can fill stadiums with a career like hers. Yet I’ve never met anyone so down-to-earth.
With Voleuses on Netflix, a true French-style Tarantino, do you want to continue in this action-comedy vein?
M.L.: What matters to me is continuing to make deeply feminist films. Voleuses was an experiment, an aesthetic proposition. Adapting a comic book where action takes center stage, driven by free, independent women navigating a world of their own. That freedom is kind of my guiding thread. In each of my films, consciously or not, I tell stories of strong women. Here, I had the chance to work with an ambitious budget and explore a different style of direction.
Action imposes an intense pace: on Le Bal des folles, I shot two scenes a day; here, I shot 80% of it on the very first day! But the commitment and passion remained the same. The key was to prove that you can create pure entertainment while still conveying a vision, a reflection. One doesn’t preclude the other.
We find in Libre this energy blending humor, lyricism, and dramatic intensity. What draws you to this type of story?
M.L.: Libre was something else. Initially, it was a book by Philippe Jaenada about Bruno Sulak, a gentleman thief forgotten by history.
A sort of Arsène Lupin?
M.L.: Yes, but from the ’80s. History has remembered the brutal, misogynistic, violent criminals. He was the complete opposite: a poet, apolitical, who stole millions from Cartier without violence. Always polite, he used unloaded weapons. Those who crossed paths with him spoke of his charm and gentleness. I wanted to tell the story of this maverick criminal, but also of the 20-year-old woman who waited for him behind the wheel after his heists. A strong female figure. Yet it’s my most masculine film.
Do you think cinema still has the power to make a difference?
M.L.: Yes, it may be the last bulwark against stupidity and cruelty. Art and science are sacrificed under leaders obsessed with war. And who suffers? Always the same people: women, children, the innocent. We can either sink or resist. Art must be that pole of resistance. Look at Hollywood: they shut down the industry to prevent AI from taking over creativity. Imagination is what makes us human. But if we delegate everything to robots, what will we have left?
I’d like to share a quote from Alice Walker: “No one will save us but ourselves. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.” ”
M.L.: I just finished La Rencontre by Charles Pépin. In it, he explains that before finding oneself, one must first encounter the other. It’s all a matter of perspective, of course, but in an increasingly individualistic world, often driven by fear or denial, this idea resonates. Today, mistrust reigns. And yet, now is the time to open up. The ego has already done too much damage. If there’s one thing we need to move past, it’s that.
You’ve lived in Los Angeles, on Belle-Île, and now in the Perche region. A need to escape the city?
M.L. : It might make you smile, but I need to hug a tree every day. It’s been proven: trees, through their mycelium, are connected to the Earth’s vibrations. When you embrace them, something happens, whether you believe in it or not. Since I left the city, the idea of going back seems absurd to me.
My children, aged five and eleven, have never known that world. Why impose it on them? Their generation will take a critical view of the future; we might as well offer them a connection to life. People often say, “We have to save the planet.” But it’s not the planet we need to save…
Is it actually humanity that needs saving?
M.L.: The Earth is reborn as soon as we let it breathe. We, on the other hand, are fleeting, minuscule in the cosmos. Yet we spend our time killing one another. We think we’re all-powerful, convinced that we’re going to “save the planet,” but all we’ll do is try not to destroy it any further. That alone would be a revolution.
Speaking of which, what cause moves you most as a passionate environmentalist?
M.L.: Environmental commitment should be a given. When people tell me, “This is your fight,” I want to reply, “Why not yours?” I refuse to let my time on Earth be destructive. We might as well do things right. I spent a few years with Greenpeace, I made a documentary, but the impact was limited.
Today, I prefer to use cinema, to appeal to emotion. I see the regression on environmental issues and women’s rights, and sometimes I feel discouraged. Fortunately, young people like Camille Étienne (Pour un soulèvement écologique, published by Seuil, 2023) are filled with rage. And rage lasts longer than anger.
If you could dive into a very “Oniriq” dream and turn it into a film, what would it look like?
M.L.: I had a dream that someone told me was shamanic. I was a mermaid, feeling the water even though I’m terrified of it. Then I took flight, with phoenix wings on my back. On an island, ancient whales were emerging from the water. Gathered around a fire, people from all cultures told me: “Here, the water won’t rise. Everything will be fine.”
A premonitory dream? The water is rising, cultures are clashing, when we should be uniting. Astrobiologist Nathalie Cabrol said that, seen from the sky, the Earth is blue. We fight over borders and skin colors, when we are all “blue” people. Scientists see this, but who listens to them? Taking this step back reveals the sheer absurdity of the world.
Actress, director: art is an essential driving force for you.
M.L.: What I hate about all creative circles (fashion, film, contemporary art) is snobbery. It stifles creativity and prevents collaboration. Art should be an open space, but it often operates as a closed circle. In France, saying “I’m an artist” seems pretentious, when it’s just a way of seeing the world. I’ve always needed to reinvent myself, to find new forms of expression.
Today, I’m fascinated by eco-feminist art, a movement that emerged in the 1970s exploring the links between the exploitation of nature and the control of women. For millennia, we’ve been destroying the planet just as we’ve been destroying women. Perhaps there is a connection worth exploring.
Grace Kelly embodies a fascinating blend of Hollywood star and Monegasque princess. What does she inspire in you?
M.L.: A captivating mystery. I know almost nothing about her. Did she choose this life out of conviction, for freedom, or out of weariness with the film industry? This mystery fuels the great icons. Today, social media kills that aura. In the past, a powerful woman maintained an air of mystery that enhanced her charisma. Mylène Farmer is the perfect example: her silence fuels the fascination.
Hair: Iryna Lazutkina by Godina Worwilde
Makeup Team: Marina Wenner by Godina Worwilde
Special Thanks: Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo
Photo: Laurence Laborie
Director: Thomas Heisser
Styling: Tom Kuntz
An article written by Désirée de Lamarzelle and Dominique Busso, featured in issue 11 of OniriQ Magazine.
Translated by Bethszabee Garner
