Classiq - An online journal that celebrates cinema, culture, style and storytelling.

6 April 2026

April Newsletter: We Are Rewind, Back to…Little Eden, and Easter in Norway

Photos: Classiq Journal

“I love cinema to the point that I cannot bear the company
of people who do not like it. One day, I gave a ride in my car to
a German who was hitchhiking. I spoke to him about Fritz Lang.
He didn’t even know the name, nor of Max Öphuls – and so,
I made him get out of the car at Lyons, leading him
to believe that I was stopping there.”

François Truffaut

Viewing

Sentimental Value, 2025
Joachim Trier

It’s a film about a house, it’s a film about a family, it’s a film about a filmmaker. Film director Gustav Borg (Stellan Skarsgård) is an estranged father who reunites with his daughters, Nora (Renate Reinsve), a stage actress, and Agnes (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas), who had showed great natural talent in a role in one of his films as a child but has chosen a different path, and the ways art intersects with real life and their complicated family dynamics. It’s a film about family, reconciliation, and all that complex relationship and unspoken language and connection between children and parents. And in this particular family, it’s through art that they can communicate best, especially to each other. It’s a film that pauses and asks of you to be present for the story, and that’s beautiful, and beautiful and essential to be seen in cinemas.

Une belle fille comme moi (A Gorgeous Girl Like Me), 1972
François Truffaut

Truffaut adapted the story from a novel by the American writer Henry Farrell, as he became interested in a completely invented kind of language, “a very coarse form of slang, some might say vulgar”, but “that occurs when one is trying to be refined and distinguished, whereas in actual fact one is not. That is not the case with Camille.” Sociologist Stanislav Previne, who is too theoretical and too academic and doesn’t understand life at all, makes research for a book he wants to write about criminal women. Among his research subjects is Camille, accused of killing her husband and her lover. But Stanislav falls madly in love with her and he arrives at a crazy interpretation and he wants to force everyone to see her as a victim of society, whereas the opposite is true. “It is a mocking of romantic love, and an affirmation of brutal reality, of the struggle for life… It is a film that displays an exaggerated vitality.” There are no sentiments here, a too lighthearted comedy to be bitter. There is a touch of madness in every character, and a touch of Lubitsch (those elements of indirect comedy, trying to tell stories that are very simple but in an indirect way) in the story, too. “This one is my first film that is really comic,” Truffaut said.

Here is how Truffaut described Camille in his interview with Monique Sobiesky, from Le journal du show-business, May, 1971 (republished in the book Truffaut on Cinema, compiled by Anne Gillain): “Here’s how I would put it: Bernadette’s character in this film does not represent women as they ought to be, but real life with its drive, and, above all, what these days we would call a sense of survival. She struggles for life throughout the film, and I am absolutely not concerned with notions of sympathy or antipathy – when people came and told me that she was a real slut, I was genuinely astounded. I said to myself that they had not watched the film very closely. […] I laugh at someone who persists in seeing life from a romantic perspective: I agree with the girl, who is a kind of hoodlum, who has learned to mistrust everyone, and the need to struggle to survive.”

Mr. Scorsese, 2025
Rebecca Miller

Captivating from the very start. You enter Martin Scorsese’s world. A portrait of the man and filmmaker. A very personal visual journey into his dreams and fears, into his artistic risk-taking and triumphs. It’s also a film class. But in the end, it leaves you curious, in awe, a childlike enthusiasm at gaping at not the skill, not the knowledge, not the remarkable works, but at Martin Scorsese’s undying love for movies.

Father Mother Sister Brother, 2025
Jim Jarmusch

Jim Jarmusch probably remains the only American independent filmmaker, steering a courageous course making the movies he wants outside the Hollywood studio system. I think his movies talk for themselves and for himself. Uncompromising, humane. Father Mother Sister Brother is a film in three chapters, featuring some of Jarmusch’s close collaborators, like Adam Driver and Tom Waits. The three stories are about mothers, fathers and their grown-up children, and each story takes place in the present, in different parts of the world: the US, Dublin, Ireland, and Paris, France. Children going to see their parents, parents getting ready to see their children. There is a palpable anticipation, but then time seems to stay still until it’s too late that they have to leave. It unfolds subtly and quietly, carefully constructed as if we are waiting for something extraordinary, or shocking to happen. But the extraordinary thing is that it is in fact about human beings, their contradictions, what brings them together and what makes them apart. You can say so much with a look or with a gesture. People, family even, who are in the same room but there is so much space between them. Simplicity is the greatest form of complexity.

Reading

Finally, a book about Jacques Deray’s film La Piscine and its making. I have come to realise that this has become, in time, one of my favourite movies (my article The searing style of Jacques Deray’s “La Piscine” was dedicated to it). Because it’s a special piece of cinema – a film about human contact, silences, glances, where we see “all the nuances of regret, jealousy, friendship, and desire, and where the atmosphere is crucial” – and because Alain Delon and Romy Schneider are together on screen.

Luc Larriba’s book, La Piscine, is a beautiful tribute to the film. With an emotional introduction by none other than Alain Delon, comments from everyone who worked on the film, from Jacques Deray and his co-writers Jean Claude-Carriere and Alain Page, the cast (Romy, Alain, Maurice Robert and Jane Birkin, and the supporting cast), and the assistant director, the covering of every aspect of pre-production and filming, the search for the perfect couple, the screenwriting, the location, music, costumes and settings (and even the cars used in the film, both the Renault 8 Gordini, a symbol of the era, and the Maserati Ghibli, object of desire, symbol of freedom, element of jealousy), the critical and public reception of the film, and even the endless attempts of a remake until The Bigger Splash (if I treat it differently than the remake, chances are to see it in a more favourable light), and the most beautiful photographs, from the film and from the set, the book has become part of the visual identity of the film and of the film’s legacy. But, most importantly, it speaks to you, the viewer, about how the film got to be made, how it was made, what the atmosphere on the set was, who the characters were. And about what the lives of the actors were at that particular time – and the most wonderful part is that we don’t invade their privacy to find that out, they candidly tell us themselves. You are on the set, you are right then and there. It is a tangible and timeless special feature.

In his introduction to the book, Luc Larriba writes: “Alain Delon often said that La Piscine was his best memory of filming. As for Romy Schneider, without this film, her life would have been completely different. La Piscine remains a unique film for both actors. It is also singular for director Jacques Deray, who demonstrates remarkable technical audacity, but, above all, establishes himself as a true auteur. Thanks to this story, these characters, and the actors he directs and elevates, he completely distinguishes himself and enters the ranks of the greats alongside René Clément, Alfred Hitchcock, and James Gray. Jacques Deray creates a film of exceptional quality in both content and form, ultimately making it a true work of art. Filmed in 1968, a pivotal year in many respects, no external elements are apparent in the film, which undoubtedly renders it timeless. The sets and costumes transport the viewer to a specific moment, but the overall setting gives the impression that the action took place last summer. The film doesn’t belong to any particular era. That’s why it continues to fascinate.”

Listening

The soundtrack: Father Mother Sister Brother

The album: Back to Little Eden

We Are Rewind: Isn’t it wonderful how, in the digital age, analogue formats are coming back with a vengeance, gaining more and more terrain? The vinyl is back. And now the cassette is back (and part of the credit goes to Max Mayfield and Kate Bush, right?). So the French brand We Are Rewind has decided to bring the cassette player back as well. We Are Rewind is the modern take of the nostalgic cassette player. This is technology put to great use, where attention to detail, cool design and the incomparable experience of listening to analogue music merge. We already use and love our Kurt. Oh, yes, each model, in a different colour, is named after a musician. There is Kurt, and Amy, and Edith, and Keith, and Serge, and Elvis in a limited edition, and also Duran Duran in a limited edition. A mixed tape, anyone? They have thought of that, too.

Stop. Listen.

Making

The art of Stepháne Manel, which I have come to instinctively associate with one of my favourite magazines, Legénde, because a Manel illustration accompanies each editorial written by Éric Fottorino. He also illustrated Come Together: The Rock Bands Game, a playing card game with a cultural vibe. Our home is free of electronic devices games, but when we are at home, we do love any other kind of entertainment, from music and film to playing every good old-school board game that’s ever been invented, and I always jump at something new.

Exploring

The Marilyn Monroe exhibition at Cinematheque française, in celebration of a century since the birth of the American icon (June 1st).

Á propos, Legénde is also dedicating its latest issue to Marilyn Monroe.

In the same regard, you can read this short interview that I did quite a while ago with Pierre Vudrag, the president and founder of Limited Runs, about a very special photo sessions of Marilyn and writer Carl Sandburg by photographer Len Steckler, titled “The Visit”. The result? Simply, an afternoon between friends, that just happened to be captured on film – some of the most beautiful, natural, relaxed photos of Marilyn Monroe ever taken, just nine months before her untimely death.

On an end note

Påskekrim (“Easter crime”) is the name of a Norwegian tradition that began in the 1920s with a crime novel that was published around Easter and generated a huge interest and sales. Since then, the Easter holiday has gained a new tradition, the reading of detective and mystery stories, an activity that the Norwegians enjoy during their Easter break spent in their holiday cottages in the mountains or countryside, where they devour classics such as Agatha Christie (I wholeheartedly concur) or their own local crime literature writers. In my interview Norwegian children’s books illustrator and writer Øyvind Torseter (one of this year’s Hans Christian Andersen award nominees – the winners will be announced on April 13 at the Bologna Children’s Book Fair), he told me: “I read several of the Norwegian fairy tales as a child. They can be both fascinating and grotesque. There is so much happening in them that is not in the text, only in your head.” I believe it’s Norway’s dark landscape and northern climate that fuel its people’s dry sense of humour and obsession with crime fiction especially this time of year, and which has given birth to this unique and darkly comedic tradition that blends culture, time outdoors and Easter celebration. Now that’s a tradition to my liking, and, unlike Halloween or Valentine’s Day, worth borrowing.

Having said all that, it baffled me when I read that Norway is fighting back to reverse the catastrophic decline in reading for children caused by the introduction, 10 years ago, of free iPads to every child when they started school at the age of 5 (!). Being liberal with tech devices is not to the benefit of children and it’s shocking to realise it has taken the world so long to realise that and to finally start to take important steps against it.

PS: It’s April, and so Clay Season is upon us, and I suspect Andrea Petkovic’s Finite Jest will be a great companion for the intake of matches I am about to have.

The regulars

The interviews, newsletters and podcasts I turn to every week and/or every month because they are that good. Soundtracking, with Edith Bowman. Ruthie’s Table 4 with Ruth Rogers. Fashion Neurosis, with Bella Freud. My New Roots monthly newsletter. Craig Mod’s newsletters: Roden and Ridgeline. Racquet’s Rennae Stubbs tennis podcast. Gone to Timbuktu with Sophy Roberts. Sirene Journal, Racquet, Waves & Woods, and Legénde in print.

We Are Rewind, “Kurt” cassette player

Posted by classiq in Books, Culture, Film, Newsletter | | Comments Off

27 March 2026

Read instead…in print #41: Le Paris de François Truffaut

“What’s important about Truffaut is that he has a quality
that surpasses any technical skill; he’s a poet.”

Jean Renoir

Le Cinéma-Pigalle, le Delta, le Champollion, le Palais-Rochechouart, le Roxy, le Cinéac-Italiens. These were François Truffaut’s neighbourhood cinemas, the ones he frequented when he skipped school. As for le Gaumont-Palace, it was “an atmospheric cinema”, a veritable monument dedicated to the 7th art. “If I threw myself into cinema, it’s probably because my life wasn’t satisfying for me in my early youth. I saw my first two hundred films clandestinely in the neighbourhood cinemas, by playing truant from school. The cinema was generally a refuge for me, but when that refuge was inhabited by Chaplin or Guitry, then I felt warm and protected.“ A solitary young man becomes a cinephile.

Le Paris de François Truffaut, by Philippe Lombard, is a book about the cinema of François Truffaut. But instead of the usual retrospective and beyond it being a beautiful cityscape, it unveils the essence of his films through the recurring elements uniquely his and his far-from-perfect yet unforgettable characters, starting with his cinematic alter ego (“Antoine Doinel is not what one would call an exemplary character; he is cunning, charming, and abuses it; he lies a lot and conceals even more; he demands more love than he himself has to offer. He is not man in general, he is a particular man.”). We quickly and deeply get a sense of how his native Paris shaped young Truffaut, starting with the cinemas and ciné-clubs. He frequented the Chambre Noire film club at the Sèvres-Pathé cinema, where he discovered the films of Jean Vigo in a single screening (because “the entire body of work didn’t reach two hundred minutes) and those of Jean Cocteau. On Tuesday evenings, he went to the Delta, which showed French films from the 1930s. Saturday mornings were dedicated to the Film Technicians’ film club, “mainly reserved for people in the industry,” at the Studio des Champs-Élysées; there, he and Chabrol saw Alfred Hitchcock’s The Rope. In the afternoon, he went to the La Revue du Cinéma film club.

“In order to defend auteur cinema, it was necessary to begin
by demolishing a number of clichés and stereotypes.
The demolisher was Truffaut.”

Claude Chabrol

And so began a life dedicated to cinema, first as a passionate writer and formidable film critic at Cahiers du Cinéma, and then as a filmmaker part of La Nouvelle Vague that swept over the French cinema in the 1960s. “It has often been said that the New Wave made Paris a character,” write N.T. Binh and Franck Garbarzin in Paris au cinéma. “That’s not quite right: Paris, from now on, is no longer a ‘functional’ backdrop; it has almost become a natural backdrop, by necessity. In fact, it is no longer simply a place where characters move about; it is a space that is part of the characters, that defines them and sometimes imprisons them. In these films of the 1960s, the word ‘Paris’ is very rarely mentioned, because it goes without saying: Paris is the navel of the universe, and this ‘navel-gazing’ is an integral part of the New Wave.”

Le Paris de François Truffaut has this incredible quality of making a viewer out of the reader, of making us grasp why no filmmaker cared more about films than Truffaut, why Paris is ingrained into the genesis of his films. The Paris of François Truffaut is the Right Bank (from Pigalle to the Champs-Élysées, Truffaut remained faithful to the Right Bank all his life), the Eiffel Tower (it can be a poster on the wall in L’Amour en fuite, or even a behind the scenes backdrop as captured by New Wave film still photographer Raymond Cauchetier during the shooting of Baisers volés), the familiar places and the everyday life of Parisians, the metro, the double-decker buses, the public telephone (“All our films have in common that they are extremely realistic.”). The Paris of François Truffaut is culture: the cabarets, the theaters, the museums, the film clubs, the artist studios, the cinemas – from Antoine Doinel in Les quatre cents coups, where he skips school and takes refuge in the neighborhood cinemas The Astor and Cinéac-Italiens, to Jules et Jim, where Jules, Jim, and Catherine meet at the Studio des Ursulines and prefer to leave the theater to talk rather than continue watching the Pathé-Journal and its images of Nazis burning books. The books. Truffaut’s passion for books and bookstores (“Reading is my greatest pleasure.”) is reflected in many of his films: books that his characters read, bookshops they visit, publishing houses, printing presses they work in, even the black market they sometimes have to retort to. The Paris of his youth, the Paris of the 1960s, the Paris under the Occupation, the Paris of the Belle Époque. Even when they are not set in Paris, Truffaut’s films (La Sirène du Mississippi, Une belle fille comme moi, or La Nuit américaine, where the entire story of takes place at the Victorine Studios in Nice, on an old American film set representing an imaginary Parisian square) make reference to it. Paris toujours. Truffaut toujours.

“If the film industry stopped, I’d be finished.
I wouldn’t be able to do anything, I wouldn’t know anything,
I’d be like a cripple.”

François Truffaut

Designing with intention and longevity in mind: In conversation with Andreas Åhrman

Photos: Erik Henriksson for Cesar Equipment Spring/Summer 2026
Styled by Liselotte Bramstång

The merest tweak of spring in the air and the returning light are enough to trigger a longing for wanderlust and a renewed sense of freedom, preferably along a coastline. The rugged yet refined, retaining its unique character type. Cesar Equipment also stands for rugged and refined. Nature and its gentle rhythm are reflected in the up-and-coming Scandinavian clothing brand, just as these black and white images, shot around Grönskär Light House Island by the coast of Stockholm, reveal its strong sense of identity. Grounded in coastal culture, the menswear label is dedicated to bringing a progressive ethos to good clothing and good design.

For everyone who has become disillusioned with the clothing industry’s practices, but still believe in a fashion industry that values people, the environment, creativity and profit in equal measure, I think that Andreas Åhrman’s response to the subject and the approach of the brand he has co-founded is the most truthful: designing clothes that people would wear longer. It’s not just about responsible materials and reducing pollution, but about how long clothes will be worn. At the Laboratory, their division that is trying out new concepts and introduces their philosophy to other design areas as well, they are not just doing the best they can with the awareness they currently possess, they are trying to improve the industry’s long-term prospects with their creativity and skills. By introducing new thinking into technical know-how, in search of practicality and durability, they show persistence in following their singular vision through while preserving the best of the Scandinavian culture, quality and beauty.

In our interview, Andreas and I talk about coast culture, the brand’s priority to manufacture comfortable products with a very long useful life, and why establishing repair services is part of their long-term vision. He also shares his favourite spot in the Swedish archipelago and his definition of a wealthy life.

Andreas, how important is nature in informing your brand’s aesthetic?

Nature — and specifically the coastline and archipelago of Sweden — has a massive influence on our brand aesthetic. The Swedish coast, especially the west coast, is minimalistic yet powerful and rugged. It’s almost like a hybrid of contrasting elements, and that reflects our brand aesthetic well. Our foundation lies in combining elements that normally haven’t been connected.

”Cesar Equipment exists to celebrate Coast Culture”. What does coast culture mean to you?

To me, coast culture means living a life in sync with nature and the rhythm of the coastline. It’s about accepting and embracing the different seasons, weather conditions, and shifting moods. Coast culture shapes our lifestyle and defines what kind of clothing is needed, what interests can be nurtured, and how we spend our time.

Personally, I love the luxury of sitting on a warm rock in the archipelago in the afternoon, chatting with friends, jumping into the ocean for a swim, and later maybe going water skiing. It’s total freedom — a form of luxury brought by nature itself.

“The Swedish coast, especially the west coast,
is minimalistic yet powerful and rugged.
It’s almost like a hybrid of contrasting elements,
and that reflects our brand aesthetic well.”

Functionality? A constant reach for high-tech improvement and refinement? Style? What is at the fore-front of Cesar Equipment?

Since we design clothing meant to withstand harsh coastal weather, we demand high functionality in our products. We source fabrics from some of the most prestigious and high-quality weavers in the world, focusing on ultra-high performance in terms of durability, water resistance, and breathability.

At the forefront, however, we also want all garments to be exceptionally comfortable. Comfort is crucial, and it strongly influences how we design our silhouettes and technical solutions.

“It’s total freedom — a form of luxury brought by nature itself.”

You have already created a collection of essentials that includes the t-shirt, the sweatshirt, knitwear, jackets, trousers, outerwear. Classics imbued with a distinctly contemporary sensibility. Will this collection further evolve or are you more dedicated to creating a lasting wardrobe with fewer and better garments?

We are driven by a constant curiosity for innovation and technical refinement, always seeking new ways to elevate comfort and create a truly premium experience. Rather than following fleeting trends, we design with intention and longevity in mind—crafting garments that endure in both quality and aesthetic.

How involved are you in developing your products?

The main responsibility for product development lies with my partner, Victor Lindh, who is an excellent creator and a true product enthusiast. We develop the products together, and I serve as his sounding board, providing structure as ideas move from the drawing board to actual prototypes.

“At the forefront, however,
we want all garments to be exceptionally comfortable.”

What is your background in the clothing industry? What was a defining moment for you, professionally?

I have spent more than 20 years in the industry, working across a range of roles – from founder and CEO to Global Marketing Director at international brands. Throughout this journey, my focus has always been the same: to create with purpose and offer something meaningful that stands the test of time.

I have naturally been drawn to brands that hold strong values, those that strive to preserve nature and show genuine respect for the people throughout their supply chains.

Can you tell me a few words about the Cesar Equipment Laboratory?

The Laboratory Line is where we give ourselves complete creative freedom. It is our playground for exploration—where ideas evolve into products ranging from highly technical garments to luxurious, functional outdoor furniture and other design pieces.
Every product is connected to coastal culture and designed with life by the ocean—or on the ocean—in mind. The concept will be introduced later this spring, and we look forward to sharing more then.

“We believe that the most sustainable way to consume clothing
is to wear garments for a long time, repairing
and adapting them along the way.”

Do you think that most of the gains that are made in the clothing business – and by gains I mean making companies responsible, and finding solutions for the environmental crisis – are made by small companies?

I believe that all companies, whether small or large, need to review their business model before focusing on “sustainability efforts” in terms of products, freight, and sourcing. If your model is based on selling large volumes at low prices with short product lifespans, it doesn’t matter how much effort you put into responsible sourcing.

Companies in our industry need to design and manufacture products with longevity and circularity in mind. Many brands are already becoming savvy about resale, but I don’t think we have fully grasped how to produce clothing that can be efficiently recycled. To make recycling more effective, we must carefully consider materials and design choices, and begin collaborating with companies that specialise in textile recycling.

Do you believe that torn pieces should be patched up rather than replaced or recycled?

We believe that the most sustainable way to consume clothing is to wear garments for a long time, repairing and adapting them along the way.

As a new brand, we do not yet have a repair service in place. However, establishing an extensive repair program is part of our long-term vision, and we plan to introduce it as the brand becomes more established.

“If someone has good health, meaningful relationships,
and a passion they continue to nurture,
they already live a wealthy life.”

It’s already clear that, at industry level, significant change can not be made without regulations, through policy. Are you optimistic?

We remain optimistic, but we also believe the industry cannot change on its own. Meaningful progress requires strong regulations that clearly define how clothing should be produced in order to access the market.

Is it possible to make clothes in a genuinely sustainable (a word I unfortunately already find hugely missed and overused) way – high quality garments, beautiful design, full traceability, local manufacturing, honestly priced? How uncompromising is Cesar Equipment committed to be?

As mentioned previously, we believe the most sustainable way to approach clothing is to invest in high-quality garments with a design you will appreciate and wear for many years.

Earlier you described a perfect moment in the archipelago. Do you have a favourite such place, a specific one, that you are willing to share with us?

The archipelago is filled with extraordinary places, yet one destination that truly stands out is Kärringön. A visit is not complete without dining at Petterssons Krog, a beautiful restaurant renowned for both its atmosphere and its exceptional cuisine.

Lastly, Andreas, the question I always end an interview with: In this time and age, what do you wish people appreciated more?

I wish people would appreciate the small things in life. I tend to believe that if someone has good health, meaningful relationships, and a passion they continue to nurture, they already live a wealthy life.

And lastly, we should never underestimate the power of kindness.

Website: cesarequipment.com | Instagram: @cesarequipment

“We are taking culture into our own hands”: In conversation with Cinéma La Clef

Cinéma La Clef. Claire-Emmanuelle Blot

The serendipity of experiencing new ways of seeing through filmmakers who are pushing the boundaries with original stories and characters. The comfortable communal feeling of being together, although temporarily. The spontaneity to become one with what’s on the screen. The belief in the actors. The scale, the immersion, the awe. The conversations sparked afterwords. A good cinema is like a great gift to people. It’s a great form of freedom. It unites people, shows us a diversity of films, we watch them, take what each one wants from them and fly free. A good cinema is brave, is challenging, is culture. Our society needs to be reminded that we need difficult, different stories, that we need artists and filmmakers to challenge us. We, as society, need to cherish independent cinemas and support them in any way we can. In the light of the pressures weighing on movie theaters around the world, it’s not even the filmmakers who give me the greatest hope for the future of cinema, but the people who go to watch the films, the great crowds and their great respect for cinemagoing, and the human activity involved in the act of keeping a movie theater alive and thriving. It’s something that Cinema La Clef has taught the world.

La Clef is an emblematic, community-run cinema located on a street corner in the Latin Quarter, in Paris. Since it was founded, in 1973, it has attracted moviegoers with an eclectic programme of rare films from France and abroad. After its sale and several failed attempts to take it over, an occupation (by residents, film enthusiasts and young professionals), an eviction, a long legal battle and a crowdfunding campaign, the cinema was finally purchased by the community – the collective that calls itself La Clef Revival – in June 2024. A year and a half of renovations later, the cinema officially reopened its doors to the public on January 14, 2026, with the screening of the Sudanese documentary Talking about Trees, in the presence of director Suhaib Gasmelbari.

I have recently had the pleasure to talk to Chloé, a member of La Clef collective (“That’s how we like to introduce ourselves,” Chloé told me), about the resistance and revival of this remarkable cinema, about why films are not an end but a means to bring people together, think and take action together, why what they did at La Clef can not be replicated elsewhere, and yet how a theater with personality can make a difference, and why school could be a wonderful equaliser in regards to raising awareness of the riches of film history. Chloé also highlights a few films that are sound proof of the diversity and richness of travelling the world through the cinema screen, and through the La Clef cinema screen in particular.

Opening night, Cinéma La Clef, January 2026. Victor Guthmann

“We became a symbol of the city of lights’ commitment
to keeping culture alive in dire times, even though
we were operating the cinema completely illegally
and with no support from the authorities.”

Cléo de 5 á 7, directed by Agnès Varda, screened in June 2024 for a full house at La Clef, in celebration of the venue’s purchasing by the community / Soundtrack to a coup d’etat, directed by Johan Grimonprez: “A recent film that’s particularly
impressed and moved me”, says Chloé.

In the era of streaming, La Clef has made a clear and powerful statement. Why do you think it holds such a special place on the Paris cinema scene, with such a huge support from the local community, while so many other independent cinemas are continuing to close down?

Public support for La Clef has grown exponentially during the six years it took to reopen the cinema. Back when the occupation started in September 2019, our struggle to preserve this historical venue in the center of Paris – which prides itself on its cultural richness, but is at the same time under immense speculative pressure – resonated with both cinephiles and local residents, who witnessed more and more independent cultural spaces fall victim to the rise of real estate prices and saw La Clef (the last community-run cinema in Paris) as a symbol of resistance.

Covid was another important step in getting the public on our side: back when lockdown had deprived Parisians of most social interactions, we started doing open-air screenings on the walls of the cinema. Those screenings were first intended for neighbors but gradually attracted more and more people in need of community, who’d sit on the sidewalks and enjoy a film together. This moment also got a lot of international press talking about La Clef – funny enough, we became a symbol of the city of lights’ commitment to keeping culture alive in dire times, even though we were operating the cinema completely illegally and with no support from the authorities, at the time.

The fact that our screenings were all – and are still – pay-what-you-can has also endeared us to many people, notably students, who could no longer afford to go to other theaters, or not as often as they’d like.

After we were eventually evicted, two and a half years after the occupation began, we realised how much our collective adventure – a band of volunteers organising to preserve a beloved cinema, and running it joyously all by themselves through cooperation and knowledge sharing – had meant to people has we started receiving more and more donations to support our bid to buy the premises ourselves, and perpetuate our model.

And it was electrifying, when we were finally able to reopen legally – and for good – last January, to see hundreds of people come celebrate with us – so many, in fact, that most could not fit into the cinema, and the party spilled out on the street, with a brass band who played late into the night.

We hope that this happy ending is not an exception, and that our victory inspires others to take culture into their own hands, and encourages politicians to realise how essential communal spaces are – in a context where both the market and the increasing criminalisation of squats are shutting down so many of them.

“Films are not an end but a means to have people come,
think and take action together.”

La Clef is community-run and has a pay-what-you-can ticket pricing policy. But of course it is also the movies shown that keep a dedicated audience coming back for more. What are the movies you will continue to screen?

La Clef has participatory programming, which means every person who’s learned how can suggest a film and organise a screening. This results in a very eclectic selection, but it’s all tied together by the desire to showcase films that are rarely, no longer or never shown in commercial theaters: militant and queer cinema, short and medium-length films, self-produced, amateur and collective films, independent documentaries, rarities and oddities from all over the world, films from marginalises or struggling communities.

We also welcome other collectives to screen films at La Clef: to us, films are not an end but a means to have people come, think and take action together. They’re not cultural objects, but political tools.

So one of the main features of our programming is that every screening is unique, and that we try to often have guests – either people who worked on the film, or community organisers, activists, researchers, etc. – in order to spark discussion. We’re lucky to have a large communal space, with a café/bar, where spectators can keep the conversation going after the screenings.

What was the first film you screened when you reopened in January?

We screened Talking about Trees, a 2019 documentary that tells the story of four Sudanese directors who attempt to reopen an open-air cinema in Khartoum – a theater that is aptly named “The Revolution” – in defiance of then-dictator Omar El-Bechir’s cinema ban. Unfortunately, they don’t succeed, and sharing their story on the night of La Clef’s reopening was a way of symbolically completing their struggle. Film director Suhaib Gasmelbari was present to introduce the screening, and told an anecdote that really resonated with what we hope to do with La Clef, as we teach a new generation of volunteers to take over: initially, the film was supposed to be titled “Those who’ll come after us”.

Opening night, Cinéma La Clef, January 2026. Victor Guthmann

“Other cinemas could perhaps draw inspiration from
some of our practices: have trust in the audience’s curiosity,
share films in a way that doesn’t feel transactional,
and lean into the social element of moviegoing.
Encourage conversation rather than mere consumption.”

Opening night, Cinéma La Clef, January 2026. Victor Guthmann

When I did an interview with filmmakers and creatives from the movie industry a few years ago, asking them why movies still need cinemas, film poster designer Vasilis Marmatakis, Yorgos Lanthimos’ close collaborator, instead of formulating opinions and ideas, simply described different movie screenings in cinemas around the world as a deeply-impactful communal experience, from a Fargo screening, in London, in 1996, when during the duration of the end titles, the audience clapped standing, to the Mulholland Drive screening in Athens, in 2001, when the doors opened for the evening screening ticket holders, the lights were on, the end titles were rolling, but the afternoon audience did not move. Could you share one such La Clef screening as a memorable collective experience?

Back in January 2022, we had exhausted all legal remedies and knew that we would soon be evicted. So we decided to open the cinema from dawn till dusk to try and deter police intervention (they can’t evict people at night, but could come knocking the doors down as soon as 6am). For five weeks, the 6 a.m. screenings became an unmissable event for our supporters and local students, who’d come watch a movie (or finish their night) before going to class. We bought croissants for everyone, and I remember a few screenings that were particularly moving, for example, we showed a Gregg Araki film in 35mm, but as the screening started we realised there was an issue with the print. The sleep-deprived projectionists had to fix everything live, the audience waited patiently for half an hour, and when the film finally started, everyone applauded the volunteers who had worked so hard in the projection booth.

We were evicted on March 1st, 2022, at 6am sharp, and so we couldn’t screen the film that was planned for that day – it was Agnès Varda’s Cléo de 5 à 7. So, in June 2024, when we were able to buy the cinema and celebrated with a 4-day festival before we closed down for renovations, we started with a nostalgic 6am screening of Cléo. And it was packed!

What can cinemas do to attract moviegoing?

What we did at La Clef can’t be replicated everywhere, because our model relies on the unpaid work of a couple hundred volunteers, who choose the films, host the screenings and work the register, the bar and the projectors. But other cinemas could perhaps draw inspiration from some of our practices: have trust in the audience’s curiosity, share films in a way that doesn’t feel transactional, and lean into the social element of moviegoing. Encourage conversation rather than mere consumption.

“We believe what still draws audiences to theaters is their
curated selection and the community built around it. […] Theaters
with a personality, where the programming is crafted with love rather than greed.”

Are you also organising workshops and Q&As with filmmakers?

Yes, we try to have guests – filmmakers, but also other members from their crew, in order not to be too author-centric and to remind audiences that film is a collective endeavor – for nearly every screening, so there are often Q&As after!

We also have specific screenings called “How is a movie made?” where filmmakers and their collaborators also share preparatory documents (scripts, storyboards, early costume design, casting auditions…) with the audience, and discuss in depth their working methods and the challenges encountered during filming. Some recent examples include a discussion with academy-award winner Justine Triet and her cinematographer Tom Harari about La Bataille de Solférino, and a discussion with Thierry de Peretti and casting director Julie Allione about Une vie violente.

Cinéma La Clef / Justine Trier during a master class at La Clef, June 2024

With La Clef as an example, I see hope and perseverance, but also struggle when I think of the future of cinemas. How do you see the future of cinemas?

We are particularly lucky in France, to have a public support system that allows so many theaters to keep running. Unfortunately, we are witnessing increasing economic concentration in the hands of a few commercial networks, which puts independent cinemas at risk, even though they most certainly are the future of moviegoing: in a time when films are more accessible online and from the comfort of the home, we believe what still draws audiences to theaters is their curated selection and the community built around it. Not the copy-paste multiplexes, with their padded seats and ever-higher prices, but theaters with a personality, where the programming is crafted with love rather than greed.

La Clef is part of a network of alternative European cinemas called Kinoclimates, and its members are proof that independent theaters with an original selection of films and a strong focus on cultural mediation can thrive: we sincerely believe that such spaces are the future of moviegoing, and hope they will be supported accordingly.

“We hope that this happy ending is not an exception,
and that our victory inspires others to take culture
into their own hands, and encourages politicians to realise
how essential communal spaces are – in a context where both
the market and the increasing criminalisation of squats
are shutting down so many of them.”

What you are saying gives me hope, too. Where do you think film education should start? At home, at school, at the cinema? Where can we start to raise awareness of the riches of film history? Is it just up to those who love cinema to keep passing on to future generations what the thrill of a good film can be?

I’d say school is a wonderful equalizer so that every child gets to discover film, whether their family had an interest in cinema or not. We are fortunate in France to have national programs that enable children from kindergarten through high school to see three films a year in movie theaters, and I think this is a wonderful initiative that deserves to be replicated elsewhere. At La Clef, we try to organise regular screenings for young audiences!

Lastly, Chloé, what is the best film you’ve seen at the cinema lately?

I’d say one recent film that’s particularly impressed and moved me was Soundtrack to a coup d’état, a documentary by Johan Grimonprez that recounts the Cold War episode that led musicians Abbey Lincoln and Max Roach to crash the UN Security Council in protest against the murder of Congolese leader Patrice Lumumba.

Opening night, Cinéma La Clef, January 2026. Victor Guthmann

March Newsletter: The art of deep listening in a kissa, Saturn Theater, and Blurry Moon

Photos: Classiq Journal

“This is the Kind of Museum I Want to Make!”
A museum that is interesting and which relaxes the soul
A museum where much can be discovered
A museum based on a clear and consistent philosophy
A museum where those seeking enjoyment can enjoy,
those seeking to ponder can ponder, and those seeking to feel can feel
A museum that makes you feel more enriched
when you leave than when you entered!

To make such a museum, the building must be…
Put together as if it were a film
Not arrogant, magnificent, flamboyant, or suffocating
Quality space where people can feel at home,
especially when it’s not crowded
A building that has a warm feel and touch
A building where the breeze and sunlight can freely flow through

The museum must be run in such a way that…
Small children are treated as if they were grown-ups
Visitors with disabilities are accommodated as much as possible
The staff can be confident and proud of their work
Visitors are not controlled with predetermined courses and fixed directions
It is suffused with ideas and new challenges
so that the exhibits do not get dusty or old,
and that investments are made to realise that goal.

[…]

This is the kind of museum I don’t want to make!
A pretentious museum
An arrogant museum
A museum that treats its contents
as if they were more important than people
A museum that displays uninteresting works as if they were significant.”

Hayao Miyazaki
Executive Director
Ghibli Museum, Mitaka
(Read the whole This kind of museum… manifesto)

Viewing

It Was Just An Accident, 2025

While in prison, Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi started to write a story centered on the idea of what would happen if one of the people he met in prison was released and came face to face to one of those who tortured and humiliated them while incarcerated. And that is the problem Vahid, one of the characters, is facing in the film that won the Palme d’Or last year, when he captures someone whom he has reason to believe is the one who had tortured him in prison. It may be just a minor accident but which, nonetheless, through skillfully melding social satire and comic moments, builds up tension and sets in motion a swirl of events to shocking, thought-provoking effect.

Le corniaud, 1965
Gérard Oury

Bourvil is Antoine Marechal, the perfect personification of the everyday Frenchman who is looking forward to leaving on vacation by car to Italy, only to have a crash as soon as he drives off. Louis de Funès is Leopold Saroyan, a generous industrialist who, supposedly regretting his being the cause of the accident, lends Marechal his Cadillac which he must bring back from Italy. Saroyan is in fact a gangster whose plan is to use the car to smuggle valuable stuff to France. While the honest man enjoys his vacation, rival gangs crash, unbeknownst to him, over the precious car. A classic gangster story, with car chases, plot twists, confrontations and misunderstandings, that takes on a different tone because of the two leading characters played by two of the best comedic actors in the history of cinema. “There are no more different temperaments than those of Bourvil and Louis de Funès,” Gérard Oury remarked. “One practices humour with sensitivity and discretion, the other explodes in gags and ludicrous effects. My only problem was channeling this torrent of burlesque without stifling it.” He succeeded very elegantly. And yet, lingering on Bourvil’s comedic talent here and in general, I can not help thinking in the opposite direction, when Jean-Pierre Melville brilliantly cast him against type as inspector Mattei in his heist story from 1970, Le cercle rouge.

La règle du jeu, 1939, and Gosford Park, 2001 (double bill)

I recently set out to watch a Jean Renoir retrospective, began with La règle du jeux and then went for a weekend afternoon double bill, watching Robert Altman’s Gosford Park as well. I had already drawn a parallel between the two, titled Dressing the classes: The Rules of the Game and Gosford Park, and was looking forward to revisiting both films. “I learned the rules of the game from The Rules of the Game,” said Robert Altman about Gosford Park (2001), inspired by Jean Renoir’s La règle du jeu (1939). On the surface, Renoir’s film takes the superficial form of a country house farce resulted in an accidental death, a case of mistaken identity, while Gosford Park employs the genre of the classic British murder mystery, as defined by Agatha Christie: guests and servants gather at a stately house and one of them is murdered. But just as The Rules of the Game is “a fusion of moral statement and social observation, of comedy and tragedy, of fantasy and cruelty, the culmination of Renoir’s quest for la drame gai“, as Andrè Bazin wrote in the book Jean Renoir, Altman uses the setting of the murder mystery but surpasses its limitations and makes it his own, a sardonic, deeply layered story of greed, snobbery, eccentricity and class exploitation. Two satires of two different societies and cultures.

Crime 101, 2026
Bart Layton

I knew absolutely nothing about this film when I went to see it at the cinema, only that Mark Ruffalo, Nick Nolte, Halle Berry and Barry Keoghan were part of the cast – and that was my selling ticket. I am a cinephile, I love so many films, from the 1920s to the 2020s, for so many different reasons, and I think this monthly round-up is a testament to that. Crime 101 is a highly entertaining heist action film, but the take-away from it is a closing sequence with Mark Ruffalo (the honest cop who’s likely to have been mentored by Columbo, in both looks and perseverance) at the wheel of a beautiful racing-green ‘68 Camaro. The way it is filmed, the way we get to see the character in a new light, both figuratively and literally, it’s a scene that belongs entirely to cinema, showing us something special and unique about the character that we couldn’t and shouldn’t have earlier grasped.

Blurry Moon
Anthony Vacarello

The creative director of Saint Laurent, Anthony Vaccarello, launched Saint Laurent Productions in 2023, to support independent filmmakers, from short films by Almodóvar to Jim Jarmusch’s latest Father Mother Sister Brother. Vaccarello further tightens the fashion houses’s connection to cinema, not in the least in recognition of Yves Saint Laurent’s remarkable contribution to film costume – most notably, Yves Saint Laurent dressed Catherine Deneuve in Buñuel’s “Belle de jour” and in Truffaut’s “Mississippi Mermaid”, and Romy Schneider in Chabrol’s “Innocents with Dirty Hands” and in Claude Sautet’s both “César et Rosalie” and “Max et les ferrailleurs”.

In his latest project, Blurry Moon (you can watch it here), a short film he made for Saint Laurent, Anthony Vaccarello went behind the camera and directed Charlotte Gainsbourg in Los Angeles, at the wheel of a car, on the legendary Mulholland Drive, creating “an atmosphere both intimate and cinematic, inspired by Lynch and Angelo Badalamenti – an offbeat tribute to Hollywood’s daydreams and illusions.”

Reading

La Piscine, edited by Luc Larriba, about the making of Jacques Deray’s film. An essential book for film aficionados.

Listening

The podcast: Monocle on Design

The Album: Surrealistic Pillow – Jefferson Airplane

Making

I usually dedicate this feature to a maker – designer, artist, creative of any kind – and his/her craft. But the idea of making an ad-free documentary brand magazine that dives deep into one single brand in each issue completely gauged my interest. Launched in 2011 and published in two languages, Korean and English, Magazine B selects the brands to be featured from all around the world based on four standards: aesthetic, practicality, accessible price point, and brand philosophy. I’m presently running a personal contest to choose the best cover so far. Among the runners-up are the issues dedicated to: Wilson, Guinness, Lego, Penguin and Tsutaya.

Exploring

Ghibli Museum, where I found the Hayao Miyazaki’s manifesto written at the beginning of this newsletter, has been on my mind a lot lately. Especially that I believe there are not enough cultural spaces that are kids-friendly, at least not at this level: celebrating originality, encouraging creativity, fostering imagination, welcoming play. They have a small cinema inside the museum as well (naturally). It is called The Saturn Theater, it has only about 80 seats, and it screens short animated films from Studio Ghibli. A blue sky and lots of colorful flowers are drawn on the ceiling and walls. When the film ends, the windows open and the sunshine comes in.

A country that values education and culture is the one that is truly ahead of others in the most meaningful way.

On an end note

And here is more: Mastering the art of deep listening in Japan. In the warm glow of the country’s jazz cafés, a subculture of vinyl aficionados is cultivating the kind of shared sensory experiences that our noisy world has forgotten.

“Jazz kissas are a purely Japanese invention. Originating in the late 1920s, and popular throughout the ’60s and ’70s, they went into decline as home audio systems became more accessible. But the past decade has seen a surge of interest in the jazz cafés from young record collectors and audiophiles. In an age when music is a digital utility piped in through earbuds, visiting kissas has become popular among music fans in Japan and something of a pilgrimage for Westerners like me – all of us looking for a chance to experience listening as an act of veneration, appreciation, and fellowship.” It is belonging to a like-minds community, collective attention, social bonding, and ultimately a quintessential (counter)cultural experience, the act of sitting together becoming part of what makes us human. In that regard, I am looking forward to seeing Nick Dwyer’s ten-years-in-the-making documenting series about kissas A Century in Sound.

The regulars

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