I am facing them. They do not look into the lens, not once. There is a man between them, who watches us. They only see him. He is not "here" and yet his presence occupies the whole scene.
How to explain this? The specter of the film is him, Joyce and Kevin's son that I see between them, on them, in their eyes lost in the obscure continents of the impossible return.
What am I going to do? With this impossible and necessary face-to-face encounter.
Is it that the impossibility of the film is the film? Or, this is not a "film," like Jabès, or Blanchot once said: the absence of the book.
Photos & texts © Olivier Morel, all rights reserved | Website design by Kirsten Blazic and Olivier Morel | A Zadig Productions/Arte-France film, 2011 | Acknowledgements