BEAUCOUP PARLER (A Lot Talk) is such a simple film it may seem complicated.
Let me explain. The film is simple because, in the beginning, it was just about following a funny Egyptian man who barely speaks French during an administrative procedure. It was simple. I had the setting (the street I live on, which I already filmed in NO KEY, one of my previous films), the main character (Amr), the plot (getting Amr papers), and some supporting roles (like Karim, the pastry chef from around the corner who makes Arabic sweets).
So how did this simple film, tackling but one issue head-on – helping someone who asks for it to get their papers in order – turn into such a complicated film?
First, it was complicated to make because making a film in your own neighbourhood, documenting an everyday situation using the tools of cinema, does not attract funding. The film was made possible thanks to the generous commitment of my loyal colleagues, and thanks to a smartphone.
It was also complicated to make because Amr is a character who does resist without being a figure of resistance. His passive resistance, especially when it comes to learning French, seems like a last resort. Amr is not a character who inspires dreams because he does not take the bull by the horns. It has always struck me that Paris is full of extraordinary, highly educated migrants – who live on the streets. These people, with whom I may spontaneously connect because they are educated, would be ‘better’ characters. They could analyse themselves so the audience would understand at once how their lives were atrociously shattered by war and global precariousness. These characters would be spectacular.
Amr, on the other hand, tries to survive day by day. He is not a ‘good’ character who does what is expected of him – facing obstacles, learning French, and changing in order to emerge victorious or defeated. No. Amr keeps fiction and mythology at bay. He just smiles to put on a front in the face of adversity. Period. I made this film because, in his ‘absolute’ everyday life, Amr’s passive last resorts are offset by his gestures, his physicality, his eyes, his laughter — in short, his expressiveness. Amr smiles, he survives, he laughs, he does not understand me, I do not understand him.
The most primitive humanism [...] is no longer in vogue, and everyone is required to consider whether it is ‘normal’ for a foreigner who has been in a country for almost two decades not to speak the language.
Finally, the film is complicated because we are in 2026. The most primitive humanism (helping and accepting your neighbour as a categorical imperative) is no longer in vogue, and everyone is required to consider whether it is ‘normal’ for a foreigner who has been in a country for almost two decades not to speak the language (and I might add that Amr does not speak French any better today than he did at the end of the film). Is the question legitimate? It arises. Is it unavoidable? With Amr, the question, which is unavoidable in law, is in fact circumvented every day. Is it wrong? Is it liveable? Is it good? Is it unliveable? Do we have to answer? BEAUCOUP PARLER simply asks the question.
I think that the stricter language requirements imposed by the French government (the Retailleau Circular of January 2025) are a mistake in terms of integration. Yet I am not even sure an activist for foreigners’ rights will understand my position through the film. It would have been easier to make an activist film with a ‘good’ character. But Amr is not a hero, and BEAUCOUP PARLER is not an activist film. It even borders on comedy sometimes, which complicates things further. A funny guy who has lived in France for 17 years without speaking French is a comedy. A guy going on 50 who cannot speak French and keeps talking about his papers is a drama.
BEAUCOUP PARLER is indeed a complicated film. This is why I am so grateful to the Berlinale for recognising and offering this complication to its spectators.
Pascale Bodet
Translated from the French by Jérémy Victor Robert
