France, 1936. Gerta Pohorylle, a young German photoreporter, lives in exile with her companion the Hungarian photographer André Friedmann. Due to widespread xenophobia, no newspaper wants to publish them. When the Spanish civil war breaks out, Gerta is determined to cover the events and thus to fight fascism, despite the newspapers' refusal to send them to the battlefront...

I'm passionate about photography as a means of artistic and political expression, and I'm particularly fond of Robert Capa's work. It was while researching him in greater depth that I discovered that the photographer Gerda Taro was intimately linked to his success. Gerda Taro's real name was Gerta Pohorylle. A socialist despite her middle-class origins, the young German-Jewish woman was forced into exile after Hitler took power in 1933. Her encounter in France with the Hungarian photographer André Friedmann led her towards politically committed photography. Together they invented the pseudonym Robert Capa, which enabled André to become one of the world's greatest photographers. After a brief period of fame as a photojournalist under the name Gerda Taro, Gerta died at the age of 26 during the Spanish Civil War.

I knew immediately that this was the setting for my next film. I had long been interested in the lives of political exiles in France in the 1930s, so this story captivated me all the more. But what touched me deeply in Gerta's story was the question of identity. So, with my co-writer Marlène Poste, we decided to place this issue at the heart of the story. When an individual is rejected by society for who he or she is, what can he or she do to achieve his or her goals? Gerta and André are considered undesirables in a xenophobic France of the 1930s. In order to cover the events of the Spanish Civil War and denounce the horrors of fascism, they have to hide behind characters created from scratch. While André changes his name, his origins and his appearance to embody his character, Gerta is forced to give up her identity as a photographer and pretends to be André's assistant, a female profession much more accepted by the men of her time. With no identity of her own, she too must now sign her photos with the name Robert Capa.

It was essential for me to create a lively, inhabited aesthetic. I wanted a highly textured visual universe with a grainy image. For me, the film had to be in black and white. This naturally evokes the photographs of Robert Capa and Gerda Taro and anchors the story more firmly in its time. The organic, tactile quality of the images continues right through to the soundtrack. The small technical imperfections, reminiscent of those on a magnetic tape, add depth and contribute to the aesthetic coherence of the film.

For me, making "La Photographe" was a continuation of the work I began with my film "Paris, 1969". Like the latter, it is a reflection on political movements of the past that are echoed in the present, key - yet unknown - moments for historical figures. This time, my approach is more advanced, the characters more embodied and their emotions more complex. I hope, in my own small way, to have paid tribute to Gerta Pohorylle's story, to her struggle, and to share it with today's audience.