Albert Serra: No Turning Back

He advances phlegmatically, with a stately bearing bordering on nobility, towards the bar.

--What will you have?

--I would have French rosé Champagne, but it's too expensive and I'll do without. Campari with natural orange juice, then.

He takes a few seconds, then corrects himself:

--Although a Diet Coke is also fine, I drink three every day.

A Banyoles native with a more or less fixed residence in Barcelona and Paris, filmmaker Albert Serra defines himself as "an artist in a more or less broad sense," and claims to have dedicated himself to cinema "for fun." "The truth is that it hasn't disappointed me, but in the world of contemporary art there is more freedom and, from time to time, this is stimulating and I can do stranger and more difficult things there. But, like everything else, I do what I'm asked or what's my turn.For me, being an artist is a duty, I don't know where it comes from, because I could do many other things and do them well, but I have never felt the temptation to abandon art, it is a fatality; or a form of commitment to oneself that goes far beyond what normal people can imagine."

--A fatality?

--Yes. There's no turning back. I have only one life and I'm going to end it with this, plain and simple. Neither wealth nor success tempts me, nor anything external to this commitment. You could say I don't care about anything, except this.

The last University and the beginning of 'Do It Yourself'

"My life doesn't exist before I was 16 or 17, and by then everything was already decided. I started studying Hispanic Philology and Literary Theory at the UB and this changed everything, because that was the last glimmer of the true University: you never had to go to class and, if you did, it was to listen to the great masters who remained, the heirs of the great tradition of distinguished humanists. It was ideal for becoming a bohemian artist. It wasn't an extension of school or daycare like now," explains the artist, recalling that, in parallel, digital technology appeared. "I realized that you could make cinema with the philosophy of 'Do It Yourself' and fun as fundamental principles. I never imagined that I would put it into practice with such precision and madness, and to this day I still haven't made a single decision, no matter how small, that didn't obey my own artistic criteria."

In 2006, luck, "which played its part in the equation," turned in his favor when Honor de caballería was selected at the Cannes Film Festival: "Although it was deserved, they could perfectly have overlooked it." This cemented his prestige as a filmmaker in France, where all his works are applauded by an audience whose appetites have been satisfied by films such as El cant dels ocells, Història de la meva mort, La muerte de Luis XIV or Liberté.

More 'Do It Yourself' ethics: "It may seem strange to you, but what I am most proud of is having produced all my works, that is, of having made them possible as a producer. That they are good or excellent once made seems natural to me, and in my mind it is taken for granted; but that they come into existence, without any concessions, seems literally incredible to me. It is the fruit of a rare determination and great tenacity, shared in part with many people who have worked with me. From an aesthetic point of view, Story of My Death, Singularity and Liberté are unsurpassed, three unique masterpieces that no one else in the world could have made. They are so extraordinary that, it must be admitted, I am a little proud of them."

--And now, what are you involved in?

"In a love story that will be filmed in Polynesia, and in a film about bullfighters. I don't like the documentaries made here, which are childish compared to Chinese or Russian ones, for example; but I was asked to make one and the only subject within our reach that occurred to me, an extraordinary subject on the level of the themes dealt with by the great documentarians of the aforementioned countries, is bullfighting. It will be the best film ever made on this subject."

A Barcelona (and a world) victim(s) of political correctness

Serra speaks with a certain nostalgia about the bohemian atmosphere of the Raval: "it was unique and connected with a very old Barcelona, that of Genet or Georges Bataille. I liked, for example, the Bodega Bohemia, which I knew, and was masterfully portrayed in the film Yo soy así, which is undoubtedly the best film about Barcelona of the last forty or fifty years, although it had the bad luck to coincide in time with En construcción, which offered a less fanciful and more consensual vision that the administration adopted."

He assures that he likes Barcelona very much, with the exception of "the nightlife venues, bars and clubs, in the upper part of the city, above Diagonal," which he detests and describes as "the worst of any European city I know, including Munich and Moscow, which is saying something." He regrets that "the artistic scene has almost disappeared, at least at a social and street level." Something that, in his opinion, happens globally due to "the pressure of political correctness, which has driven original people off the street." That kills fun. "Fun is unfair by definition," he concludes.

On the radio, the news is playing.

--Turn off the radio, it's boring and sounds like Francoist nostalgia. Better put on some music--, he asks.

--Perhaps, some production by the recently deceased Phil Spector?

Albert Serra approves with a half-smile hinting from under his mustache.