We spoke to Ann Oren about the core concepts behind her second feature, Objet a, which had its world premiere at the Locarno Film Festival as part of the International Competition. The German director has already been a guest at the Swiss gathering, with her debut feature, Piaffe, back in 2022.

Cineuropa: Did your first film have any influence on the development of this one? What was the inspiration for it?
Ann Oren: Having worked really well with Simone Buccio on Piaffe, I immediately had another idea for a character for her, a psilocybin queen, which she is here. It's fantastic when you're working with people and you're so inspired by them. As for the topic of the film, Objet a addresses what it means to be a human on this planet right now. We live in times of tech fascism, war, climate catastrophes…

My ideas always stem from the human body because it's something we all share. Piaffe started with the concept of sound, which shaped the atmosphere, while this film began with the sense of touch, which is the first sense we develop at birth. I became interested in what happens to touch when we spend more time touching our screens than our lovers’ skin. Our fingertips are designed to sense and guide us, yet they’re becoming increasingly disconnected from physical sensation. That led me to the first image: hungry, zombie-like fingertips. From there, I imagined a couple living in an isolated bubble, which felt very contemporary. They would communicate through objects and through touching and being touched in a very particular way.

I wanted to include the climate catastrophe, but not in a didactic way. So, I built Adam’s character around a generation raised on apocalyptic predictions. I also wanted to involve the body of the viewer. The more we use technology, the more our bodies seem to disappear behind screens. I wanted to make the bodies of the actors and other species very present, and hopefully make the viewer connect with their own body and, in turn, with the characters.

How did you work with the actors to move from the characters’ controlled, instinctive physicality to the sense of freedom we see in the final sequence?
I wanted the characters and objects to feel controlled but also animalistic. Her need to steal and his need to be admired are almost instinctive. They’re like two animals trapped inside a beautiful flat. The actors went through a lot of physical training, including working with surgeons. When you see Adam stitching, he’s actually doing it himself. They were incredibly trusting and open, and each brought something different through their bodies. I also talked with each of them about where the energy comes from as they move, where they sense the other person within their body, and what’s happening physically within the scenes. I think a lot about bodily intuition and how we make decisions from the gut, rather than with the brain. I wanted them to connect with each other instinctively, rather than approaching the scenes rationally.

For the final sequence, it was almost a free-form choreography. We talked about the whole tripping sequence as a kind of physical dramaturgy, which I based partly on my first experience with psilocybin mushrooms. It’s difficult to put into words, but I experienced a connection with the natural world that I had never felt before. Of course, I can’t simply transfer that personal experience to someone else. I broke it down through different sensations, like anxiety and ego loss, and had the actors find those feelings within themselves. We rehearsed in the forest location, where they could connect with the environment. By the time we shot those scenes, they had been in the apartment for so long that being in the forest completely opened them up. They were almost intoxicated by the location, and I think that freedom really came through in their performances.

Is there a reason for the porcupine chant? You seem to show a similar animal early on in the film.
It actually came from Gaia’s body: her unusually long armpit hair and psychedelic sweat made me think, visually, of a porcupine. I liked the surrealist idea of moving from one image to another, so when Gaia disappears, she almost reincarnates as a porcupine. Then, while looking for a German tongue twister, rather than translating one, I found “Stachelschwein, Stachelschwein,” which became the repeated chant and connected the animal to the ritual. I thought it was great!

Could you talk about the symbolism of the colours and how you worked with your cinematographer to translate that visual language into the film?
I always start with a colour palette, even before casting. I think the final result is a combination of the cinematographer and the production designer. I often start with specific images or tableaux, but I talk more about the bodily sensations of the characters and what I want the audience to feel. I knew I wanted to begin with very rigid compositions and a static camera. Then, once Gaia enters their lives, we introduce Steadicam, and everything becomes more fluid and dynamic. When the characters change, the cinematography changes with them. If the camera is suddenly freed, you can feel that their way of seeing the world has changed.