Cineuropa talked to the director of the Critics’ Week title Imago [+lire aussi :
critique
interview : Déni Oumar Pitsaev
fiche film], the winner of the Golden Eye at the Cannes Film Festival (see the news). The film is Déni Oumar Pitsaev’s feature-length documentary debut.

Cineuropa: It took you two summers to shoot the film, but how long did it take to develop the idea?
Déni Oumar Pitsaev: The idea first came to life in 2019, so it's been nearly six years from the initial concept to the finished film. It all began with my first trip to Pankisi that year. Then, the pandemic hit, and everything got delayed. Still, I was determined to keep working on it. I had incredible support from my producer, Alexandra Mélot. It’s hard to believe this is her first production – her work was crucial. She introduced me to some great collaborators who helped shape the project. We started shooting in the summer of 2023, continued the following summer in 2024, and even added a final week in October.

What kind of timeline did you originally envision for the shoot? Are you happy with how it turned out?
At first, I thought we could wrap up the entire shoot in one summer. But it was actually Alexandra who suggested we take more time – and we did. Usually, it's the other way around, with the director pushing for more and the producer holding back. In our case, she encouraged me to dig deeper. The October shoot happened right in the middle of the editing process, which also took a long time. We started editing in September and finished in early March.

The forest scene stands out and is also connected to the film’s title. Since it comes quite late in the movie, was that a conscious decision?
Yes, very much so. The title came to me before we’d even begun shooting. It was inspired by a conversation with my father, when he told me about the meaning of “imago”. But during the forest scene, he pretended not to understand what I was asking him, which really surprised me. I had hoped that scene would be an intimate, one-on-one moment with him. The forest itself felt symbolic, almost like a form of catharsis. I always knew it would be the emotional climax of the film. Of course, keeping the audience engaged until that point was a real challenge.

The film has a complex emotional tone. You seem both connected to and distant from the community. Do you feel your emotions are fully captured on screen, or did you hold anything back?
I definitely have a love-hate relationship with the place. Growing up, I wanted to escape. But even when you think you’ve broken free, there’s still something drawing you back, like a lighthouse. I think that’s true for a lot of people when it comes to their family home. You might criticise your roots, but when someone else does it, it feels personal. As for what I shared in the film, I personally don’t believe in complete transparency in cinema. I think some mystery is essential, and that’s why I chose to keep certain things to myself. Leaving space for the audience, or the critics, to question what’s left unsaid can sometimes reveal more than what’s shown openly.

What was it like on set? You once mentioned a kind of “director’s aura” that helped you connect with the locals.
In Chechnya, we don’t have a filmmaking tradition. There’s no industry, no film school and no funding, so our stories are often told by outsiders. People were proud that someone from within was finally telling their story.

What do you hope international audiences – starting with those at Cannes – take away from the film about Chechen culture?
The most Chechen aspect of the film is the sense of resilience. It’s about facing hardship without losing your humanity. We've endured war, and yet we never gained independence from Russia, but there's still this strong will to live – a certain optimism that keeps us going. I feel that’s something uniquely Chechen, but also deeply universal. For example, our international sales agent, Rediance, is based in Beijing, but I felt comfortable with them because they truly understood the film. They could relate to the cultural pressures portrayed, including those around marriage. Despite the differences between Chechnya and China, there were meaningful points of connection.

Ultimately, every generation thinks they're living through the hardest times, but I believe it's up to us to define our era. I wanted the film to end on a hopeful note because, personally, I’d rather say we’re living in a great time. Yes, terrible things are happening, but at least we’re aware of them, and we have the power to make a difference. We just haven’t figured out how to use that power yet.