Heading South
Directed/Written by Laurent Cantet
French filmmaker Laurent Cantet is concerned that his film, Heading South—in which middle-aged, sexually repressed North American white women visiting Port-Au-Prince fall in love with a young, lusty, impoverished black Haitian man—might be misconstrued as being about sexual exploitation.
“In France, I’ve had to fight that impression, to justify my making this film,” says Laurent Cantet. “This film’s not about exploitation—I don’t want people thinking, ‘Oh, those poor Haitian guys are being exploited by those bad American women.’”
Cantet conceived of Heading South in 2002, while visiting Port-Au-Prince, where he was shocked by Haiti’s poverty, attracted by its sensuality and intrigued by the complex social and political situation.
“I wanted to make a film about what it means to be a tourist in such a world—where sexuality is an expression of social, political and economic power and only physical desire can bridge the huge gap between rich and poor,” says Cantet, who based the script on Dany Laferrière’s short stories—which he read on the plane back to Paris.
“Laferrière’s book presents a kaleidoscopic image of Port-Au-Prince in the 1970s, showing tourists who, like the women in the film, avoid seeing the poverty by staying inside their hotels. He was adamant that the film explore whether in that context, sexual relations could lead to a realization other than humiliation and oppression, something more than guilt or compassion. I agreed with him about that.”
MERIN: I found Heading South very moving, very provocative—but not exploitive. Why this reaction in France?
CANTET: I’m glad to hear you say that. I think the French see Heading South as different from my previous films, which are thought to be militant. For me, there’s continuity, and I don’t think my films are militant. I’m not militant—I’m involved, engagé, concerned about what’s happening around me, yes. But I don’t propose answers. The world’s very complex, and I like to show this complexity. I don’t think I’m the “cinéaste du travail” that they expect me to be, so this film surprised them. They think because the women have sex with Legba that the film’s about sexual exploitation. I agree that it’s politically correct to denounce sexual exploitation, but that’s what this film is about. So, now I must justify myself and making the film.
How do you do that?
By emphasizing the continuity between Heading South and my other films. Like the question of masks—at the beginning of Heading South—the old woman says everybody’s wearing a mask, so you don’t know who’s good or bad. In my films, characters don’t show who they are, they present images—as though masked—before others. And my films link intimacy and political issues.
The film’s more political than its characters. They’re two oppressed groups coming face to face—the Haitians are politically and economically oppressed, and the women have no rights to their desires. Since they’re equally oppressed, their intimacies aren’t exploitation. If men were coming to get young girls, for example, that would be sexual tourism. Then, the film would be about exploitation.
How do personal politics inform your filmmaking?
Well, I’m very far left, but I don’t make politics; I make films. I think my most overtly political film is probably Human Resources, where I wanted to show that people who think we’re living in a class-free society—where the class dialectic no longer exists—are wrong.
Heading South addresses many issues simultaneously—north and south, black and white, how tourists go someplace and without being involved or risking anything think they’re intimate with local people.
That kind of hypocrisy is dangerous. But I wanted the women in the film to be guiltless, acting from their pure need without self-consciousness or compassion.
Why aren’t any French women in the film?
In the ’70s, people rarely crossed the ocean for vacations. Ellen [Charlotte Rampling] is European but lives in Boston. More importantly, these women seem American rather than European, because they’re puritanical. Maybe this is my making stereotypes, but I don’t think French or Italian women have the same problems with their bodies or with aging [because] religion is less important for Europeans than for Americans.
For example, in the film, Brenda [Karen Young] is very puritanical and very strangled by that. I can’t imagine her as a French woman. In the story, she’s a Baptist minister’s wife—which means nothing to French audiences, so I cut it. When someone’s that oppressed—just open the door a little and the reaction is huge—anything can happen. For her, meeting Legba [Méthony Cesar] opened that door. There’s no going back.
Were there other story changes?
Yes. In the story, Albert [Lys Ambroise], the hotelier, was also in love with Legba, but that was distracting. I found it more interesting, more focused, if Legba’s just this guy, with this body, who seduces women and is seduced by them.
Do you rewrite often? Improvise on set?
I write a first version, then cast, then rehearse a lot—especially when working with nonprofessional actors because they need to understand their character. Or sometimes I must change their character to fit them better. I like this give and take. It helps develop characters, and is good for the film. This time, it was hard because Charlotte was in Paris, Karen was in New York and Louise Portal was in Montreal while Méthony and Lys were in Port-Au-Prince, and I was I don’t know where. We couldn’t’ rehearse until a week before shooting, when we went to the Dominican Republic, read the script, tested situations and made changes. That week was a bit too short for me, but we managed.
Why set the film during the 1970s and not today?
Today, Haiti’s a ruined country. No tourists, no hotels, no beaches, no nothing. We shot mostly—including all the resort sequences—in the Dominican Republic. But city scenes were filmed in Port-Au-Prince.
How was filming in Haiti?
Dangerous. Armed gangs were kidnapping and killing people. I was concerned for the crew. I was responsible for them. For myself, I got used to it. That’s terrible to say, but you get used to it. We had guards while we worked. We had to for insurance purposes because the crime level made it unreliable that we could finish the film.
If there’s a lesson to be learned from Heading South, what would it be?
That things are more complex than how we think of them. I don’t want this film summed up in two sentences. I want it to be as complex and as illogical as life itself. That’s what I’m always trying to show. That’s what I don’t like about most scripts—that they’re more logical than life is. Life is arbitrary, and risky. I want to show it that way.
