Catalan filmmaker Gemma Blasco discusses the creative process behind her film Fury [+lire aussi :
critique
bande-annonce
interview : Gemma Blasco
fiche film], which premiered at SXSW in Austin and at Malaga Film Festival, as well as the reality of sexual assault victims.

Cineuropa: Fury tells the story of a sexual assault. You film the assault with the screen completely black. What did you choose to film it this way?
Gemma Blasco: I always wanted to show assault in some way because, for me, not showing would have been like looking the other way, as if it didn't happen. But I never wanted to make a spectacle of it and, most importantly, I wanted to be as respectful as possible to the victims who might watch the film and to the actors involved in the scene. That's why I came up with the idea of telling it through sound. This approach solved these issues for me while also adding many more layers to the narrative. It allowed us to have an uncomfortable sequence without being morbid. But it’s terrible because the sound triggers your imagination, which is almost worse, and it also opens up an interesting interpretation. As a viewer you don’t see what’s happening, but because the film never leaves the protagonist, you completely believe her, even without having seen it.

The assault takes place at a party among people who are friends, in an environment that might seem safe...
Yes, Eva Pauné (the co-writer) and I found it interesting to explore sexual assault in contexts where there’s a certain level of trust, where both friends and strangers come together at a friend's house.  Many assaults occur in familiar places or settings that victims regularly visit, places they may have to return to for other reasons in their lives, and we wanted to reflect that.

The film addresses the fear, the shame, the loneliness of victims, the doubts about whether or not to report the assault, as well as guilt and the nightmare that your life becomes......
The protagonist goes through different phases of post-traumatic shock, and I was really interested in focusing on the loneliness of the victims and how difficult it is to talk about..  I also wanted to provide an answer to that difficulty, in this case, through the reaction of the brother. It still amazes me how victims are questioned every time a case comes up, with questions like, “If she’s such a victim, why hasn't she reported it?” “Why has it taken you years to tell us?” The film responds to these questions to a certain extent. We’re still not well-equipped to support victims. I’ve tried to contribute and to help make those who aren’t yet aware of how difficult the process is, a little more aware. And also, for a victim who watches the film and has never spoken about it, I hope they’ll feel a little less alone than they thought. For me it's very clear: not reporting it, not talking about it, doesn't make you any less of a victim.

Euripides' tragedy Medea plays a very important role. Why were you interested in it?
I was interested in approaching the tragedy through the concept of fate. The film itself is, in a way, a kind of tragedy. Medea appeals to me because of its darkness, but also because of Medea's thirst for revenge and her relationship with the sexual. And because she's a witch and she moves away from what is expected of her. She seeks her power and appropriates her pain, and that is also present in the film, in how the protagonist tries to stop her brother from “stealing” her story. It also allowed me to explore the usefulness of fiction as a mechanism for enacting a totally inhuman act of revenge without it crossing the boundaries of reality. 

In the end, the film also explores the struggle between instinct and reason...
I personally shift between my dominant side—reason, social, and political ideas that distance me from violence—and the impulse towards mediation and understanding. But I wonder if that's truly how I feel or if that's how I've been taught to feel. I firmly believe that violence only begets more violence, but sometimes my instinct fantasises about going out and burning everything down, beating up my friends' aggressors and shouting loudly. I think that's what the film is about—it stems from using cinema and fiction as a means to explore all those things that in real life I would never dare to do, or even believe in.