Screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière Discusses His Storied Career.

Show: FRESH AIR
Date: MARCH 13, 2000
Time: 12:00
Tran: 031301np.217
Type: FEATURE
Head: Jean-Claude Carriere Discusses His Career in Cinema
Sect: Entertainment
Time: 12:06

This is a rush transcript. This copy may not
be in its final form and may be updated.

TERRY GROSS, HOST: From WHYY in Philadelphia, I'm Terry Gross with FRESH AIR.

On today's FRESH AIR, French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere. He's collaborated with such internationally acclaimed directors as Luis Bunuel, Jean-Luc Goddard, and Louis Malle. Carriere's films include "Belle du Jour," "The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie," "The Return of Martin Guerre," and "The Unbearable Lightness of Being."

This month, he was given the Writers Guild of America's highest honor. We'll talk about his 19-year collaboration with Bunuel and the effect of psychoanalysis and surrealism on his filmmaking.

Also, rock critic Ken Tucker reviews the new CD by crossover country singer Shelby Lynne.

That's all coming up on FRESH AIR.

First, the news.

(NEWS BREAK)

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross.

This month, French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere became the first foreign-language writer ever to be given the Screen Laurel award from the Writers Guild of America. The award is for the advancement of the literature of motion pictures.

Carriere has collaborated with such internationally renowned directors as Luis Bunuel, Jean-Luc Goddard, Louis Malle, Volker Schlondorff, and Peter Brook. Carriere has written or co-written such screenplays as "The Tin Drum," "The Return of Martin Guerre," "The Unbearable Lightness of Being," "Valmont," and "The Mahabharata."

He's best known for his 19-year collaboration with Spanish film director Luis Bunuel, with whom he co-wrote "Diary of a Chambermaid," "Belle du Jour," "The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie," and "That Obscure Object of Desire." Carriere even co-wrote Bunuel's autobiography.

I spoke with Jean-Claude Carriere about his movies and asked him first about his Bunuel collaboration, "Belle du Jour," which they adapted from a novel. This 1967 film stars Catherine Deneuve as a beautiful woman who is sexually unresponsive with her husband and retreats to the world of her sadomasochistic fantasies. Compelled by her desire to live out these fantasies, she secretly becomes a prostitute at a high-class brothel.

I asked Carriere about his interest in this character's sadomasochistic fantasies.

JEAN-CLAUDE CARRIERE, SCREEN LAUREL AWARD WINNER, WRITERS GUILD OF AMERICA: At the very beginning, we never thought about a masochistic tendency, you know, about Severine, that was the name of the woman. We were interested in the basic story written by Cassel (ph), and we saw the possibility to insert some daydreams images, you know, and some reveries and phantasma for a woman.

But little by little, step by step, when we start talking to women, to hookers, to prostitutes, to madams, to psychoanalysts, to psychiatrists, you know, we realized that she was basically a masochist. And that's why finally, you know, the film is very often presented as the portrait of a masochistic woman, which at the beginning was not the intention.

The intention was not to make a film about -- not even to make a film about sex, but to make a film about reality on one side, and what I could call an imaginary world on the other side, and to try to present the two worlds, the real one and the unreal one, on the same level of cinematographical reality -- not to change the image when we pass from one world to the other one.

We wanted to show, to try to show that in our personalities, you know, what we do and what we dream of are the same, and are the two basic elements of our personality. There is no real difference between the two of them, and very often the imaginary world we live in, it's more real than the so-called reality.

GROSS: How did you come up with the masochistic fantasies that you gave this woman in "Belle du Jour"?

CARRIERE: By the examples that -- you know, everything in the film, which is phantasma, is real, has been really lived up (ph) by somebody. Many people told us about, you know, and so finally after a few weeks or months, I don't remember, of investigation, inquiries, you know, here and there in Paris and Madrid, we came up to the idea of eliminate everything which was not masochistic in order to present a coherent character, you know, not to do anything about a woman, but just to maintain her in her own way.

GROSS: And did you and Bunuel keep trying out these different fantasies, the ones that you had heard about through other women, and...

CARRIERE: No, it was very difficult for two men for the first time, I think, in the history of the cinema, to enter what Freud called the Black Continent, which is the woman's sexuality. It was extremely difficult for us, especially for one of the two men being Spanish, you know, where the sexual love was extremely contrived at the time by the Catholic Church.

So we took all the possible precautions, you know, to enter this unknown and threatening territory.

GROSS: Well, what are the precautions? (laughs)

CARRIERE: Not to write and direct the film from a male point of view. You understand what I mean, not trying to put inside a woman's mind what a man would dream to find there. You know, to be really precise, exact, to be honest, in other words, to -- our man character.

GROSS: So how would you know the difference was what you...

CARRIERE: Because we talk (inaudible)...

GROSS: Because you talked to a lot of women...

CARRIERE: Yes, and (inaudible)...

GROSS: ... and you used what they told you.

CARRIERE: Yes, we talked to a lot of women, and everything which is in the film, as a fantasy, is real. (inaudible)...

GROSS: Real in the sense that it was a woman's fantasy, or that the woman lived it?

CARRIERE: Yes, absolutely, they were real fantasies of women that they have told to us, and sometimes with a certain -- sometimes it was rather difficult for them to admit, you know. But everything -- even, you know, when she receives mud, for instance, on her face, that -- this -- the dream, I mean, let's say, has been told to us by at least five or six women, never by a man.

GROSS: This film was made in 1964 at...

CARRIERE: No, '65.

GROSS: Sixty-five, OK. And standards for what could be shown on screen were much tighter than they are now. Was your film censored at all? Was "Belle du Jour" censored?

CARRIERE: I was censored. I was, you know, having the part in the film. Bunuel, as usual, gave me the part of a priest. And I was celebrating a Mass at one moment in the film, the scene of the coffin. And that was the only thing in the film which was censored. Nothing about sex anywhere in the film, you don't see a naked breast, not even that, you know. Everything is suggested, everything is under covered, you know, by something else.

So the film couldn't be formally -- there was nothing to be -- nothing that could have been censored in the film, except maybe the words. But even the words are not, you know, are not four-letters words at all.

So the only thing they could -- they tried, but the only thing they could take off was the religious, you know, aspect of it, which was a very short moment anyway, it was not quite important.

GROSS: So what was it about that moment that you were in that got censored?

CARRIERE: You know, if you remember, there is a scene when the Severine -- I mean, the lady who goes to the brothel, is taken into a castle by a man who asks her to put herself in a coffin, as if she were a dead daughter. And then he speaks to her in a very strange way, goes down under the coffin, and probably -- we don't see it -- probably masturbates himself. That was one very precise fantasy that had been told to us by -- a man's fantasy.

So before that, before that scene, which is still in the film, there was a priest in the same room celebrating the Mass. And it was too much, you know, that the man was serving the Mass to the priest, the priest was leaving the room, he wasn't there during the rest of the scene. But the fact that it was this sort of link of -- secret connection between the Mass and the fantasy was not allowed, you know, and was censored.

GROSS: If you're just joining us, my guest is Jean-Claude Carriere, and he just received the Screen Laurel award from the Writers Guild of America for advancing the literature of the motion picture.

When Bunuel told you that he wanted you to write "Belle du Jour" with him, he described the novel that it was based on, or at least the version of it he wanted to make, as a story about a woman's conflicts between her superego and her id. Now, in his autobiography, which you wrote, he said, "I didn't like psychology in general or analysis or psychoanalysis. On the other hand, my discovery of Freud and particularly his theory of the unconscious was crucial to me."

Can you talk about that a little bit, and how you think that applied to the work you did together?

CARRIERE: Yes, first of all, when he decided to make "Belle du Jour" as a film, we had already worked together, we knew each other. We had written "Diary of a Chambermaid" and another film called "The Monk," which he never (inaudible) -- he never directed. So we knew. And I was at that time working with Louis Malle, when I received a letter from Bunuel about "Belle du Jour." "Belle du Jour" had been offered to several other directors, French directors, who had all refused to make a film, because they thought it was cheap, you know, it was banal, that the book wasn't very good, the book by Joseph Cassel.

And Louis Malle was surprised that Bunuel had accepted. And I showed Louis the letter where Bunuel was talking about -- in a very ironic way, about conflicts between the superego and the id. You know, he knew about -- he was extremely interested about Freud and the discovery of the unconscious and all of it, but did not really believe in it. He didn't really believe in the therapy of it.

So talking about the conflicts between the superego in the id was, I knew him well, and I saw immediately the irony of what he was saying. Nevertheless, when we came to the point of writing the film, as I said to you, we tried to be as honest as possible to the -- I wouldn't say the psychology of the woman, of the main character, I would say the behavior, you know, which is something totally different.

A moviemaker, a film director, observes the characters he is dealing with, you know, is like a -- Bunuel had a formation (ph) when he was a student of an entomologist, and he was observing the behavior of the insects. And it's about the same way when he goes to the human characters. He does exactly what he sees, what he observes. It is real, physically real. I mean, what happens, really happens. But he doesn't really care about the invisible pillars of human behavior, which, as he said many times, to him looked arbitrary, and anyway changing all the time.

GROSS: My guest is French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere. This month he won the Writers Guild of America's Laurel award for screenwriting. Carriere had a long collaboration with the Spanish film director Luis Bunuel. We'll talk after a break.

This is FRESH AIR.

(BREAK)

GROSS: My guest is French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere.

How did you first meet Bunuel and start to work with him?

CARRIERE: We met in 1963 at the Cannes Film Festival. He was looking for a French screenwriter to write "Diary of a Chambermaid," which is based on a 19th century French novel by Octave Mirabeau. And he wanted the writer to know rather well the French countryside, which, you know, I was born in the countryside, and I was French, and I was young. I had the three qualities he was asking for.

So we met at the Cannes Film Festival, and he met with several other French screenwriters, you know, I don't know exactly which ones, at the time. When I arrived, I had, of course, read the novel and prepare a (inaudible) -- I mean, something like a first possibility of an adaptation to make the novel into a film.

But our first contact -- it is -- looks anecdotal, but it is not. I was waiting for him in the hall of his -- in the lobby of the hotel, and he came up -- it was on the terrace -- went to -- took me to the dining room. We were meeting for the first time. And I was extremely impressed by Bunuel, of course, who was already a monument in the history of the cinema.

We sat down at the table, and he looked at me with a very special look. He had eyes, as the great directors have, eyes that see everything, you know, outside and inside you. So he looked at me with these eyes and asked, "Do you drink wine?" You know, I understood immediately that it was not a superficial question but a deep one, meaning, Do we at least have something in common? You know, if we don't agree about the film, could we talk about wine?

And when I answered to him, "Not only I drink wine, but I come from a family of wine makers, wine producers," his face, you know, got radiant. And he called the waiter and said, "Please, two bottles."

That was, you know, like breaking ice between the two of us. And we -- I was born in the south of France not very far from the Spanish border. We had -- I am not from the same generation, of course, he was 31 years older than I was. But we had something in common, some ground, you know, some tradition, some Latin background, you know, and mostly wine, I must say.

GROSS: (laughs)

CARRIERE: So I went back to Paris without knowing anything about his decision. About a week later the producer told me that he had chosen me. I never knew if it was because of what I had proposed as a possible adaptation, or if it was due to the wine.

GROSS: Bunuel had been very interested in surrealism, and I guess the best example is the film he collaborated on with Salvador Dali, "Un Chien Andalou." And he had said about that film that they only kept the images they couldn't explain. I'm wondering if you feel that that surrealistic streak entered into the films that you wrote with him, and if you were ever tempted to demand an explanation, to demand that an image be consistent with the character, or with the plot.

CARRIERE: No, apparently it's impossible to make a surrealistic film because you need time to make a film, you need to prepare, to write a script, to shoot the film, to edit the film. And the surrealistic activity goes with a certain improvisation, certain instinct writing, you know, automatic writing, as they said at the time.

So apparently it's impossible. To try to reach something unusual in the writing of a film, we used what we called the right of veto, that he already use with Salvador Dali when writing, you know, "The Andalusian Dog."

GROSS: What is it, the right of what?

CARRIERE: The right of veto, V-E-T-O.

GROSS: Right.

CARRIERE: So the right of veto means that you propose me something, an idea, for a scene, any scene, a situation. I have three seconds, no more than three seconds, to tell you yes or no. Why three seconds? To prevent my rational side to intervene, to get from me or I from him, or from you, to get the instinctive answer coming from your unconscious side. You understand what I mean?

GROSS: Yes.

CARRIERE: That -- to -- and if you propose me an idea, if I say no, you have no right to defend your idea. You must go to another one. You know, that's the way we have been working for 20 years.

GROSS: It sounds like you made it...

CARRIERE: Of course...

GROSS: ... into a game.

CARRIERE: Yes, it's like a game. And don't forget that one of the activities of the surrealistic group was precisely the games. The surrealistic games were very famous, and they were an attempt to train and develop the imagination, the human imagination considered as a muscle, like memory, for instance. All the actors know that memory can be developed, can be trained.

It's about the same with imagination. Imagination knows no limit. You know, you can go and go all day long, if you are trained, and if you are in good shape, and if you are willing to do so, you know, avoiding comprehension, avoiding too much intelligence, trying to go as far as possible inside each of us. That's really -- there is the link between Bunuel's, you know, earlier formation (ph) -- and, you know, he really belonged for a long time to the group of the surrealistic poets -- and our work.

After that, of course, that was one of the contradictions of Bunuel's work that Francois Truffaut once noted, that everything he does as a work is instinctive. It's, you know, sudden, it's improvised. And at the end, he ends up with a very well-built-up script.

GROSS: Let's go back to this game of vetoing each other's images. Who used the veto power more, you or Bunuel?

CARRIERE: At the beginning, (laughs) at the beginning I didn't dare at the beginning. You know, you are a young screenwriter, you find yourself facing Bunuel. And Bunuel propose, you know, offers an idea to you, and you say, Oh, I don't know, I don't like it -- it's quite impossible. At the beginning, I wanted to love what he was proposing, you know.

So after two weeks at the -- on the very first film we worked together, the producer, Serci Hadaman (ph), came down from Paris to Madrid, where we were working, and he had a dinner with me, and at the end of the dinner he said, you know, "Bunuel is very happy, he likes you very much. He says that you work well," and so and so. "But you have to say no to him from time to time." You know, and I understood that Bunuel had asked the producer to come just to tell me this phrase.

So the following day, I tried from time to time to oppose, not to agree, to -- even from time to time to fight, to come to a quarrel with Bunuel. And that's exactly what he needed, he needed -- what he needed was not a Mr. Yes, you know, approving everything, but somebody who not only would propose and offer ideas, but would oppose his, and reject.

And after that, I mean, if -- I don't remember exactly, but a few weeks later, we came to the right of veto, the famous veto right.

GROSS: French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere. He'll be back in the second half of the show.

I'm Terry Gross, and this is FRESH AIR.

(BREAK)

(AUDIO CLIP, SONG EXCERPT, SHELBY LYNNE)

GROSS: Coming up, Ken Tucker reviews the new CD by Shelby Lynne. We're listening to it now. And we continue our talk with French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere.

(BREAK)

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross, back with French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere. This month, he was given the Writers Guild of America's Laurel award for screenwriting. He's the first foreign-language writer to be given that honor.

Carriere has collaborated with such directors as Jean-Luc Goddard, Louis Malle, Volker Schlondorff, and Peter Brook. During his 19-year collaboration with Spanish director Luis Bunuel, Carriere co-wrote "Diary of a Chambermaid," "Belle du Jour," and "The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie."

Did Bunuel's interest in surrealism manifest itself in daily life as well as in art? Did he ever behave in a certain way that reflected his interest in surrealism, and was it ever hard for you to figure out how to respond to that?

CARRIERE: He was not -- I wouldn't say -- he was not a terrorist nor a revolutionary. We know he had a very peaceful family life with his wife and sons. But he had in his private life something which was absolutely surrealistic. It was the love of practical jokes, you know, of changing the world (ph) with jokes. You know, making people believe this and that.

And he was very famous for loving to laugh, and trying to -- it's a sort of slight perversion of the reality. I give you an example, for instance, an American example. Once we were in Spain working on a film, and "The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie" was nominated for the Academy Award in Los Angeles.

So four Mexican journalists came to see us, and one of them asked Bunuel, "Do you think that you get the Academy Award?" And Bunuel said, "But of course I get it. I already paid $25,000. I supposed to pay another $25,000 when I get the award, and you know, the Americans, they have some, you know, some wrong sides (ph), sometimes, but they are men of word, they keep their word."

You know, three days later, that was published in the Mexican newspaper. Bunuel, "I have paid $25,000 for -- to get the Academy Award." And it was a cretin -- in the milieu, a real scandal, you know, the producer went -- came from Paris, he was out of his mind. What did you say? I mean, it's impossible, (inaudible) -- it's going to be a real scandal, and we'll never get it.

And Bunuel was, you know, kept saying, "But that's a very innocent joke." It was not so innocent. And finally, when we got the Academy Award for the best foreign film, Bunuel was telling the journalists, "You see? I told you, Americans have some wrong sides, but they keep their word." (laughs) So that's one more, you know...

GROSS: It's amazing that they believed him, that they took him literally.

CARRIERE: Yes, absolutely, they did believe it, and they did right. He was so serious, you know. He had a very -- he was very good at making practical jokes, extremely good, even to me, you know. Sometimes, for instance, I was entering his room, and he was deaf, so I was entering, it was (inaudible)...

GROSS: He was deaf later in his life.

CARRIERE: Yes. He would leave the door ajar, the door open, so that I could walk in. And twice when I, you know, walked into his room, he was dead, just dead, you know, lying on the floor, you know, with the -- absolutely with the eyes reversed (ph) and one foot on the table, all the papers, you know -- it was just -- And the first time I was extremely -- I really thought he was dead. So that was that sort of very black humor, very Spanish black humor.

The second time, of course, I said, "Bunuel, that doesn't work, you did it already once." And so he got up and he said, "Oh, excuse me, I forgot I had already made it." (laughs)

GROSS: Well, on the last page of his autobiography, which you wrote, he says that he'd like to before he dies surprise all of his friends, because he was an atheist and his friends were atheists. So he wanted to invite over a priest so he could make a confession and then ask for extreme unction...

CARRIERE: Absolutely.

GROSS: ... and see how his friends reacted. Did he actually do anything like a practical joke when he was near, very near death?

CARRIERE: You know, he never did it, because I -- well, that's quite sad to remember. I went to see Bunuel, and it was about two months before he died. He knew he was dying, and he knew that I knew. So we could talk freely about his death. So I said to him, "Are you going to make the joke, Luis?" You know, with tears in my eyes. And he said, he said to me, "No, I told the joke too many times, and nobody would, you know, would believe what I would say." So he didn't do it.

GROSS: If you're just joining us, my guest is Jean-Claude Carriere, and he has just received the Screen Laurel award from the Writers Guild of America for advancing the literature of the motion picture.

Bunuel said, "If someone were to tell me I had 20 years left and asked me how I'd like to spend them, I would reply, Give me two hours a day of activity and I'll take the other 22 in dreams, provided I can remember them. I love dreams, even when they're nightmares, which is usually the case."

I'm wondering if you started paying more attention to your dreams working with him, and if your dreams ended up figuring into any of your work.

CARRIERE: That was absolutely important from the very beginning. I am a dreamer, I have a lot of dreams. You know, I dream a lot for all my life. So the very first time we met, at the Cannes Film Festival, he ask me about my dreams. And "Do you dream? Do you drink wine?" was the first important question. The second was, "Do you dream?" And later, he told me that once -- Henri Breton, you know, was the pope of the surrealistic movement, had said about somebody he disliked very much, said: "Tisman (ph) is a son of a bitch. He never dreams." You know, so I couldn't say, No I don't dream.

But, you know, not only Bunuel confort (ph) me in exactly the same pleasure, the same ravishing pleasure, I mean, to be a dreamer, and -- but he taught me how to use it in a film. And sometimes -- because he says all the time, he said all the time that usually in a film, dreams, it's logical illustration of the story. And in life it is never the case.

So we have to be very careful when we put a dream in a film. And -- but every morning when we -- when we met every morning of our work, maybe one of the first, you know, tasks of the day was to tell each other our dreams, without any -- without trying to hide anything. And sometimes, I remember, I can confess it now, sometimes when I am -- I couldn't remember my dreams, or maybe I had not dreamed, I would invent some dreams.

And once he had a doubt about my sincerity, I remember this. And we almost got into a fight.

GROSS: He could tell that you had invented the dream.

CARRIERE: Yes, yes, he...

GROSS: How could he tell?

CARRIERE: He could tell. I don't know if it was the dream itself, or probably the way I was telling it, you know, sometimes you can -- when -- You must know that we have been working for 19 years together, and we knew each other very well. I mean, we have been eating together, just the two of us, more than 2,000 times, which is, you know -- there are many, many couples can't say the same, you know.

So any change in my look, in my voice, he would notice, and same (ph), and it was reciprocal. So I suppose it was something in the way I was -- I was not acting well, in other words, not well enough.

GROSS: My guest is French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere. We'll talk more after a break.

This is FRESH AIR.

(BREAK)

GROSS: My guest is Jean-Claude Carriere, and he has just won an award from the Writers Guild. It's the Screen Laurel award from the Writers Guild of America.

And you have collaborated with such directors as Bunuel, Louis Malle, Jean-Luc Goddard, Volker Schlondorff, Peter Brook. These are all very eccentric people. Let's talk about working with Jean-Luc Goddard. You wrote "Every Man for Himself" for Goddard. What's it like writing for Goddard? I mean, Goddard is so...

CARRIERE: Goddard, writing with Goddard, first of all, is very exciting, you know, because you don't write, you don't write a script. The way you do it usually, Goddard -- you -- Goddard likes very much to talk with his collaborator. So we get together, anywhere, in his place in Switzerland, for instance, and we start talking about what could happen.

And then after that, alone, he takes a video camera and starts shooting like the very first draft of a film. For instance, for the -- you know, the film you were quoting, he shot some image even of the actor he wants to work with of a woman biking in the countryside of, you know, the reproduction of a (inaudible) of a painting by Bonnard, for instance.

And then he makes a 15, 20 minutes film which is absolutely like a draft. And then we get together again, and he shows the film to me, stops every moment and ask, Is there a scene there? (inaudible). If I better answer yes, if not there is no film.

So for instance, I remember, I give you an example to make it, because it may sound unclear. We see he has showed a painting by Bonnard, a naked woman sitting in an armchair by a window looking outside. Question by Goddard, Is there a scene there? I answer yes. So he says, What happens? Is say, Somebody is ringing the bell at the door. He says, Who? A man. What sort of a man? A man with a suitcase. What's in the suitcase?

And (inaudible), you understand, we start -- we don't start with an idea, but with an image. Already with an image -- which is extremely interesting, and it's very exciting for the mind of the writer to work that way, because it's unusual.

And we try to do it sometime, for instance, with Phil Kaufman working on "The Unbearable Lightness of Being." You know, we were surrounded by images from Czechoslovakia. And from time to time, we would just look at the image as if -- photographs, for instance, of the street in Prague of some Czech characters, you know, some Czech women, and trying to by a sort of -- to see through the image, if there is a scene, if there is a movement, an emotion, a sentiment, something that could lead us to the writing of a scene.

GROSS: I can see how that could also be a little frustrating, in a way, because you're doing it -- you're -- it's this, like, step by step process without having an overview of what the film is about from the start.

CARRIERE: Absolutely, it is frustrating, because we -- you are working on a film without having the camera and everything that you need to make a film, you only have...

GROSS: And without having a larger structure yet.

CARRIERE: Yes, absolutely, you are (inaudible)...

GROSS: It's an image at a time.

CARRIERE: It's very vague, it's very frustrating, disappointing. One day, one week you like a scene, you know, two weeks later you hate it, and you find it very banal. And you never know, it's a -- of course, it's better to be two, to -- if you are alone, you get sometimes desperate, about, you know, how to get there, I mean, how to get to the film.

So you -- it's a very strange situation to be a screenwriter, because you are, like, working on the -- how could I say? On the caterpillar which is going to be a butterfly, but you are just putting together the elements that constitute the caterpillar, you know, the colors, the cells, everything. But your script doesn't fly, you know. It needs to be transformed into a butterfly, into a film, and to take off.

So it is always frustrating, but you know, you know that you must know if you are a screenwriter that you are not a novelist. You are not working on a piece of writing which is bound to last, just the opposite, it's provisory, you know, it will -- at the end of a shooting, you find the script in the garbage can, and that's all right.

GROSS: What do you think are one or two of the best-written movies that you've ever seen?

CARRIERE: One of the best-written movies is really the French film "Children of Paradise."

GROSS: I love that film.

CARRIERE: Yes, written by Jacques Prevert. That's really a man I (ph) -- strangely enough, the man was a poet. A poet -- poetry (ph) has no structure, you know, it doesn't have to build up a story. And if you look carefully at the script of "Children of Paradise," which is a classical French film, it's beautifully built up. I mean, the construction of the film is unparalleled, it's fantastic.

And not only that, but the dialogue of the film, that's the ideal. Every person, every character in the film speaks at his own social level, you know, popular, aristocratic, popular (inaudible), ignorant, you know, they all have a special language, but they all speak Jacques Prevert, you know, they all say Jacques Prevert's phases and words.

I don't know how it goes, but that's the real mystery of creation, literally creation. And I'm a great admirer of this film. There are many others I have a special affection for, the Italian screenwriter Tomino Guerra (ph), you know, who work a lot with Fellini and Antonioni, he's the one wrote "Amarcord," which is one of my favorite movies by Fellini.

Also I would quote "Rashomon," the Japanese film, that's a perfect script, you know, it's a sort of a crucial point in the history of the cinema, and to me it's a film that I can see and see again and again.

GROSS: We in America only get to see a few of the French film released each year. What do you think is the state of the French film industry now?

CARRIERE: It's doing rather well. I mean, especially in the past two or three years, we have made, you know, more than 150 films that -- here, and as usual we have out of 100 films, when we have three or four good films, it's a very good average. And we -- it's a pity that we don't see not only French film, but European films in America. You know, there is an American fancy to conquer (ph) the world of the movie distribution all over the world in every country. We try to resist. It's a pity for us, and it's a pity for the American audience not to see anything from any other country.

GROSS: Do you think that -- I know there's a lot of people in France who would like to limit the amount of American popular culture that penetrates France so that it doesn't kind of...

CARRIERE: No, there is no limitation. I mean, I think the American movies, you know, occupy about more than 60 percent of the French audience, (inaudible)...

GROSS: Does that bother you? Do you think that American culture is kind of wiping out or overshadowing different regional cultures around the world?

CARRIERE: No, no, it doesn't bother me for myself. I mean, because I still have the possibility to see French and Italian films, you know. I was in India in January at the film festival of Delhi. I saw many interesting films, extremely interesting films from Asia, for instance, that you will never see in America. It's a pity for America.

GROSS: Right.

CARRIERE: Not for us.

GROSS: Right. Well, I want to thank you so much for talking with us.

CARRIERE: (inaudible), thank you, thank you for inviting me.

GROSS: French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere. This month, he was given the Writers Guild of America's Screen Laurel award.

Coming up, rock critic Ken Tucker reviews a new CD by Shelby Lynne.

This is FRESH AIR.

(BREAK)

TO PURCHASE AN AUDIOTAPE OF THIS PIECE, PLEASE CALL 877-21FRESH
Dateline: Terry Gross, Philadelphia
Guest: Jean-Claude Carriere
High: Screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere is best known for his 19-year collaboration with French film director Luis Bunuel. Their films include "Diary of a Chambermaid," "Belle du Jour," "The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie" and "The Obscure Object of Desire." Carriere also wrote screenplays for "The Tin Drum," "The Return of Martin Guerre," and "The Unbearable Lightness of Being." On March 5th, Carriere received the highest award given by the Writers Guild of America, the Screen Laurel Award. He was the first foreign-language writer to be given the honor.
Spec: Movie Industry; Entertainment; Awards

Please note, this is not the final feed of record
Copy: Content and programming copyright 2000 WHYY, Inc. All rights reserved. Transcribed by FDCH, Inc. under license from WHYY, Inc. Formatting copyright 2000 FDCH, Inc. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to WHYY, Inc. This transcript may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.
End-Story: Jean-Claude Carriere Discusses His Career in Cinema

Show: FRESH AIR
Date: MARCH 13, 2000
Time: 12:00
Tran: 031302NP.217
Type: FEATURE
Head: Shelby Lynne Goes `Countrypolitan' on Her New Album
Sect: Entertainment
Time: 12:52

This is a rush transcript. This copy may not
be in its final form and may be updated.

TERRY GROSS, HOST: Shelby Lynne recorded five albums before her new one, which is called "I Am Shelby Lynne." They were all country records and were commercial failures even though Lynne's vocals were unanimously praised.

For her new CD, Lynne has collaborated with producer Bill Bottrell, who produced Sheryl Crow's breakthrough album, "Tuesday Night Music Club." The result is a more unusual showcase, which rock critic Ken Tucker says is Lynne's best yet.

(AUDIO CLIP, EXCERPT, "YOUR LIES," SHELBY LYNNE)

KEN TUCKER, ROCK CRITIC: What is that? It doesn't sound much like country music, or rather, it sounds like a very particular, almost forgotten kind of country music. That song, "Your Lies," was written by Shelby Lynne and producer Bill Butrell in the manner of the 1960s style dubbed "countrypolitan." It was virtually invented by the Nashville guitarist and producer Chet Atkins, who emphasized strings and horns in a way that had been anathema to hard-core country.

Countrypolitan was created to cross over to a pop audience, which is exactly what Shelby Lynne wants to do, and her determination gives her music a rigor and energy that most countrypolitan never attained.

(AUDIO CLIP, SONG EXCERPT, SHELBY LYNNE)

TUCKER: Until now, Shelby Lynne's personal story always overshadowed her music. When she was still a teenager in Alabama, her father killed both her mother and himself, and Shelby married and divorced. She attracted attention as a performer for possessing a voice that seemed bigger, more mature than her age.

Her vocal instrument was a producer's dream, a power to be harnessed. But no one could figure out how to do that, and as a result, all of Lynne's albums up to now have sounded compromised by her desire to be accepted within Nashville's mannerly musical style.

That's why the title of this one, "I Am Shelby Lynne," has the ring of a manifesto.

(AUDIO CLIP, EXCERPT, "I AM SHELBY LYNNE," SHELBY LYNNE)

TUCKER: Shelby Lynne is 31 now, and in working with Bill Bottrell, who has co-written nearly every song with her here, she's making shrewd compromises that only occasionally wobble, as when Lynne permits Bottrell to turn her into a Sheryl Crow soundalike on "Life Is Bad."

(AUDIO CLIP, EXCERPT, "LIFE IS BAD," SHELBY LYNNE)

TUCKER: "I Am Shelby Lynne" is not the CD that's going to put Lynne in competition with Shania Twain and Garth Brooks. It's still too idiosyncratic for country radio and too country for rock radio. But it's certainly not the uneven compromised work she's settled for in the past. It's a prickly, lovely album, hard-earned, and it'll come as a pure pleasure to any pop music fan with the good fortune to take a chance on someone who's turning a discredited 30-year-old musical style into something fresh and vital.

GROSS: Ken Tucker is critic at large for "Entertainment Weekly." He reviewed "I Am Shelby Lynne."

FRESH AIR's senior producer today was Roberta Shorrock. Our interviews and reviews are produced by Naomi Person, Phyllis Myers, and Amy Salit, with Monique Nazareth and Patty Leswing, research assistance from Brendan Noonam. Anne Marie Baldonado directed the show.

I'm Terry Gross.

(AUDIO CLIP, SONG EXCERPT, SHELBY LYNNE)

TO PURCHASE AN AUDIOTAPE OF THIS PIECE, PLEASE CALL 877-21FRESH
Dateline: Terry Gross, Philadelphia, Ken Tucker
Guest:
High: Rock critic Ken Tucker reviews the new crossover album by country music performer Shelby Lynne. The CD is called "I am Shelby Lynne."
Spec: Entertainment; Music Industry; Television and Radio

Please note, this is not the final feed of record
Copy: Content and programming copyright 2000 WHYY, Inc. All rights reserved. Transcribed by FDCH, Inc. under license from WHYY, Inc. Formatting copyright 2000 FDCH, Inc. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to WHYY, Inc. This transcript may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.
End-Story: Shelby Lynne Goes `Countrypolitan' on Her New Album
Transcripts are created on a rush deadline, and accuracy and availability may vary. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Please be aware that the authoritative record of Fresh Air interviews and reviews are the audio recordings of each segment.