Jaume Claret Muxart • Director of Strange River
“It's an educational film: about desire and sexuality”
- VENICE 2025: The debuting Catalan filmmaker talks to us about his first feature, shot on 16 mm while cycling along the Danube with his family, with sexual awakening as its backdrop

Jaume Claret Muxart's excitement for attending the upcoming Venice Film Festival, where his first feature, Strange River [+see also:
film review
interview: Jaume Claret Muxart
film profile], will be screened in the Orizzonti section, is evident in this conversation we had about this dreamlike road movie set along a river and experienced by bicycle.
Cineuropa: You shot on 16 mm film, rather than digitally, which is much appreciated. Is celluloid, with its tactile, organic and carnal qualities, ideal for telling a story as intimate and personal as Strange River?
Jaume Claret Muxart: Absolutely. What's more, the most important thing about filming on celluloid is the energy generated on set. The tension it creates is good: you have to concentrate when shooting in order to get it right. Having that tension is rewarding for actors, like when they’re backstage in the theatre and then step onto the stage—you know that at that precise moment you’re putting yourself on the line. I did theatre years ago and dress rehearsals were always a disaster, but then everything changed at the premiere. 16 mm gives you that same feeling.
The spirit of summer permeates the film. What is special about this season?
Capturing the feeling of summer temperatures and scents was essential: the viewer had to feel the breeze and hear the cicadas singing. During filming, we were very mindful of filmmakers such as Claire Denis and her work with the body, and Maurice Pialat. Mia Hansen-Løve also inspired me: the French filmmaker says she likes to shoot in the heat.
Does sexuality blossom more in summer, when humans are more in touch with nature?
Physical changes occur in summer: there is something hormonal about that time of year that awakens everything. The central character in my film undergoes a transformation, and the actor who plays him did the same; he grew up. Summer is also a time when time seems to stand still, allowing you to step outside yourself and experience magical things.
In your film, magic is in the air.
I didn't want to make a film about that magical realism that everyone talks about so much, but rather a poetic film. The reality of cinema is close to life, but at the same time different, because it has its own laws and nature. In this sense, all these scenes, as in Jean Renoir's films, are real, but they’re not afraid to venture into more dreamlike territory.
You’re naming filmmakers who have made great films about rivers: is it almost a subgenre in itself?
The films of Indian director Satyajit Ray also have this connection with rivers. I’ve travelled extensively throughout Europe by bicycle with my family. I don't know if I'll shoot another film on a bicycle, but I will shoot one about rivers. They carry a classic and powerful metaphorical force, ever since Heraclitus. The river also undergoes a physical transformation: we begin filming at a small stream, and by the end of the film it is enormous, with floodgates that open. You could see how the landscape was changing, and the Danube, where we filmed, has something different and mysterious about it that I still haven't fully figured out: it's ambiguous too.
In your feature film, the father is an architect and the mother is an actress. Are these autobiographical elements?
The film is not autobiographical, but it is based on an autobiographical situation. My mother is a physical education teacher, but my father is an architect, so, as you can see on screen, he took us to visit buildings while the rest of the family wanted to go to the river. I like to work on scenes using improvisation, leaving space for the actors, who are also creators of the film: my father was on set and passed on his knowledge to the performers.
The relationship between siblings is a key part of the plot.
What happens when two brothers separate because one of them grows up? I’m interested in the figure who watches all the time, drawing the character from the reverse angle. The three brothers in the film sleep in a tent, with little space: there’s a world in there that is very particular, and you only understand it if you have experienced it.
Finally, is Strange River a physical, mental, or sexual journey?
The main storyline is the separation from the family, as the protagonist has always been accompanied by his parents. This is an educational film about desire and sexuality. But it is reciprocal: in some scenes, the son also educates his parents. Also, viewers can take it wherever they empathise most: I didn't want it to be a film with just one perspective.
(Translated from Spanish)
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