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VENISE 2024 Semaine internationale de la critique

Milad Tangshir • Réalisateur de Anywhere Anytime

“Jamais je ne me contenterais de faire un remake d'un chef d'oeuvre atemporel, je ne suis pas fou”

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- VENISE 2024 : Le réalisateur iranien explique comment une bicyclette peut, pour certaines personnes, faire la différence entre survivre ou ne pas y arriver

Milad Tangshir • Réalisateur de Anywhere Anytime
(© Isabeau de Gennaro/Cineuropa)

Cet article est disponible en anglais.

Issa (Moussa Dicko Diango) finally gets a job in Turin: he will be delivering food. Things are starting to look up when disaster strikes – somebody steals his bike. Just like a desperate father in a certain 1948 classic, he depends on it, badly. He wanders the streets of this city that doesn’t want him, looking for it. Iranian-born, Italian-based director Milad Tangshir breaks down his Venice International Film Critics’ Week entry Anywhere Anytime [+lire aussi :
critique
bande-annonce
interview : Milad Tangshir
fiche film
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Cineuropa: Let’s start with something obvious: was it always your intention to play with the Bicycle Thieves storyline and put it in a different setting so it would feel like a natural continuation?
Milad Tangshir: In 2018, I got closer to the world of riders, people who deliver food with bicycles here in Italy. Most of them were undocumented immigrants. It hit me: it’s still the same situation. A regular bicycle can, for some people, mean the difference between survival or simply not making it. Also, it was a way to grab the attention of the Western audience and find how to reflect on the now.

It’s brave, taking on a classic like that.
One thing I explained to everyone right away – and the film reflects this, I hope – is that I wouldn’t just remake a timeless masterpiece. I’m not crazy. I was aware of the comparisons, obviously, but I wanted to make it clear what kind of “operation” it really is. It makes you think about all those people after the war and about people now, still living out that kind of heritage.

Neorealism had a lot of affection for its struggling protagonists. You do the same thing, looking for kinder moments.
These films used to explore the human soul in a completely different way, through so-called “ordinary” people. Also, it was never supposed to be just about him looking for his bike. I wanted to come inside the home of an Italian person, for example, to have this normal, human interaction. It’s just two people talking. I needed to stop his search for a minute, stop showing the brutality of our society and, yes, have this moment of kindness.

Modest films that reflect reality often opt for no soundtrack at all. Yours is surprising: those beautiful, jazzy tunes make it seem quite upbeat.
I am happy you mentioned that because I come from a musical background, and it was the first thing that came to me back in 2018. I wrote the film and did my research while listening to that music. It’s Afro-Cuban jazz from the late 1960s and 1970s, when the independence of African nations was beginning to take shape and they were establishing a new identity. This music sounds familiar to a Western ear, but there are all of these hidden elements. I wanted to take away that sense of familiarity, that sense that you know this whole story already.

This is not an easy role, because Issa doesn’t talk too much and keeps everything inside. Why did you want to work with non-professional actors?
Almost all the main roles are played by non-professional actors in the film. I went to so many dormitories and associations that work with immigrants. I did it for over a year, and I was trying to honour these moments. Their experiences enriched me as well. I knew I wasn’t looking for the right actor; I was looking for the right person. Moussa stutters, so he’s always one step behind in the conversation. He left Senegal a long time ago, and I wanted to use his personal journey, too. I was open to whatever he wanted to do. The whole film rests on his shoulders.

Is it harder to talk about refugees in Italy now? Does anyone want to listen?
I was counting on my point of view as another foreigner in this country, hoping it would allow me to avoid clichés. I certainly didn’t want to make him look like a victim. He’s not! He’s another human being, with all this darkness and light. It’s not exactly new, but in Italian cinema, maybe it is? I didn’t have to go through what he’s going through, but I know this constant sense of anxiety, and that was the heart of the story for me. It’s not about feeling sorry for anyone; it’s about dignity.

I assume you wanted to venture outside of the country and make it feel universal. How? By focusing on things that could happen “anywhere, anytime”? Or by showing that, at the end of the day, everyone’s lonely?
Yes, also in any city in Belgium or France. De Sica’s masterpiece was understood all over the world. Here, it’s also a slogan of this company – these guys bring you food anywhere, anytime – but this struggle happens all the time. It’s like dominoes – when you find yourself in a truly horrible situation, the pieces continue falling. He thinks: “If I disappear, no one will ever know.” It’s a real feeling. These riders are pushed into a situation where they are devoid of their identity. It’s ridiculous the way these things work.

As for that loneliness, maybe that’s just my experience. Before, I made films about inmates in Turin, about people who live in a desert. They are always alone. I guess it’s a theme I’m trying to explore. What’s more, it’s a miracle, to make a film. If you are just making some kind of a homage, also to the history of cinema, it’s not worth it – it needs to feel absolutely essential.

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