1. Zaho Zay (2020) tells the story of a young woman, who while working in an overcrowded jail in Madagascar, is haunted by the memories of her father, a man known as the "Dice Killer." How did you develop this story idea and the character, and what were your inspirations?
Georg: The film developed through three travels to Madagascar, during each trip we would film and dive deeper into the story. We originally went to Madagascar to research another project entirely, a film about pre-colonial architecture, and the Famadihana, "the turning of the bones." It's a ritual in which families disinter the remains of their ancestors to dance with them and give them fresh wrappings. Some of that made it into Zaho Zay.
Maéva: My father's family is Malagasy, but I hadn't been there since I was a child. It was like this film was calling out to us even as we were trying to concentrate on this other project. The landscapes we were exploring were very insistent: “Look how perfect a western would be set in this desert,” “Don't you want to hide a body in this rocky hole?” The main character, too, seemed to call out from underneath my uncle's skin—he plays the Dice Killer. His cool attitude, striking face, the way he moved through space were all screaming at us, “Don't you see this beautiful, silent killer?" We had a good camera at hand. There was no escaping it.
Georg: The idea of a female prison guard that awaits the arrival of her father, whom she idolizes as a criminal, crystalized to us as soon as we knew that we could access the prison in Fianarantsoa.
2. The title Zaho Zay literally translates into "it’s me," and is first heard during the prison roll-call scene. Can you tell us more about the resonance of this expression and how it connects to the role of identity and presence in your film?
The whole film for us is a search for identity, the identity of the prison guard who has been traumatized as a child and is now desperately trying to reassemble the broken pieces of her past, the prisoners, whose identity is being tried to be obliterated, and our own identity as European filmmakers who arrive on this island welcomed by an extensive Malagasy family.
3. The film does not only deal with ideas of memory and identity, but also with larger themes of the aftermath of colonial repression, especially as it relates to overcrowding in prisons in Madagascar. You filmed in the prison of Fianarantsoa: how were you able to get access there, and how did your real-life experience of the conditions there affect the narrative of your film?
One of Maéva uncles was engaged (he has in the meantime tragically passed away, as one of the victims of the Covid pandemic) in an NGO that is fighting for prisoner’s rights in Madagascar. Since they have been working with prisons in Madagascar for years, they already had established a relationship of trust with the prison bureaucracy. As an exchange for having access to the prison in Fianarantsoa and realizing our film, we agreed to make a promotional film for the work of the NGO that tries to establish workshops inside the prisons, where prisoners can produce their own products in order to earn money to buy food.
Arriving in the prison was, of course, a very intense experience and it took awhile before we were able to orient ourselves and gain the trust of the prisoners, who were eager to show us their daily struggle and how they survive despite the dire circumstances.
4. Your film includes lyrical monologues from the Malagasy poet Jean-Luc Raharimanana. What ideas did you want to convey through the inclusion of his poems in your film? Was the poem created for the film specifically?
The text was written for the film by Raharimanana. We gave him the outline of the story, that is a female prison guard, who was abandoned by her father as a child and who waits for his arrival at the prison. Imagining him as a mythical killer, who in contrast to the inmates she has to deal with every day, is omnipotent. Since we are outsiders to the intricate political situation in Madagascar, we were really looking for someone who could bring a very internal perspective onto our imagery. When we proposed Raharimanana to write the text for the film, he immediately said that he wants to contribute to our film – not least because his own father was a political prisoner during the 2000s in one of the Malagasy prisons that we portray.
5. There is a convergence between fiction and reality within the film. Could you explain your stylistic choice to blend documentary and fiction, spontaneity and staging to develop the film's narrative?
Georg: The construction of this film was quite unique in the sense that our film came together in three parts. First, the story of the father, the silent killer, whom we follow across the island. Two years later, we knew we had access to the Fianarantsoa penitentiary center and the story of the killer's daughter, a prison guard, reached us. Working in an intimate setting with non-professional actors, many of them Maéva's family, we chose the comfort of an entirely silent film. Third, we asked the poet and writer Raharimanana to create the character of the narrator. We then had a very clear concept of what should be exposed in the voiceover.
Maéva: We did, indeed, start shooting very contemplative scenes of the killer's quest. His silence participated in this character, making him elusive, mysterious and suggestive. It was very powerful and demanded to be protected as such, the silence of a wandering soul, of an unknown man who allows the imagination to ignite. Following this, the prison part was based on a documentary approach, and forcing a fictional character with dialogues was neither easy nor interesting, given that we wanted to stay as close as possible to the real life of prisoners in the prison and give them as much space as possible in the image. Each scene was built with the prisoner in the center, their expressions, attitudes, and touching words.
To then link the killer on the run and the real prison situation, we opted for a voice-over, which would be the primary vehicle of the fictional narration, and which had a place of choice in our images which contemplate, scrutinize and compare.
6.Maéva, as someone with Malagasy origins, is this what inspired you to pursue your first feature film in Madagascar? And how did you and Georg come to work together on this project?
Maéva: Yes, the decision to make a first feature in Madagascar was token in the idea to go discover my country of origins through the work process. Though, I went with a precise idea of another film that I am still developing nowadays. The Dice Killer story took over at the moment of the explorations. Inspired by the landscapes and situations, but also by the fact that I was on the island very much willing to search for my origins through my father, childhood places and stories. As if I was looking for the boy he had been in the past.
At the beginning Georg came as a producer, and me a director. But we both are used to switching roles, being all together writers-directors and producers in life. We came for research, along with good filming equipment, and when the idea of shooting a film in itself showed, we naturally switched to some more dynamic collaboration, sharing the storyboarding, the scriptwriting, improvising in a permanent construction of a story, being sometimes sound technicians or cameraman.
It was very spontaneous. One of us would envision a scene and take the camera, the other the microphone. When we encountered difficulties, the other was there to back us up. On the road, living together, filmmaking becomes a total way of life. We might be at a market to pick up groceries, and, suddenly, staring at a piece of ham, a script idea would come to mind! It just never stopped.
7. How did you go about the casting for the film, and how was your experience working with the actors?
Maéva: Most are members of my family! They are spread across the island, working in all kinds of fields, from lawyers to bus drivers. They were all so excited to be in the film, we hope that we can continue working this way in the future...
With the prisoners, it was a great adventure and a great discovery of each other. They play their own role. The NGO Manarina works for human and prisoners' rights. We were therefore warmly welcomed by the prison staff and the prisoners. Eager for human exchanges, to be addressed, watched, questioned, to participate in an event, such that our filming seemed to touch them as much as ourselves, and we spent time getting to know them in order to then be able to film real moments of sharing. It was completely chosen, it was out of the question to bring in professional actors or to dramatize. The sincerity comes from that of the exchanges that we had. We knew that our camera would be the eye of the narrator, who would explore and observe everything as we did ourselves.
8. What are you currently working on and do you have any ideas for upcoming projects? Also, are you planning to return to Madagascar to film again?
Georg: We are working on several projects at the moment, at least two of them would bring us back to Madagascar. Hôtel des Thermes is an ensemble film in an old colonial hotel in Madagascar that wants to create a panorama of the colonial history of the island. The Blue of the Forest on the other hand is more autobiographical, inspired by Maéva’s childhood in the French countryside and her Malagasy dad working there as a veterinarian. Personally, I’m also in the post-production of a feature film called Godsterminal, a long-term project that I have shot on the Swedish island of Fårö over the course of 12 years, which combines the imagery of Ingmar Bergman with local histories and characters.
9. Now that you are filmmakers-in-residence at Deutsches Haus at NYU, how are you planning to spend your time here in New York City? What are some of your favorite things about the city (if you’ve been here before) and is there anything in particular that inspires you?
Georg: After the last two intense pandemic years, we really enjoy having a bit of time outside of Europe. Me, I will use my free time to continue with my yoga practice, something I wanted to do for a long time and there are great yoga clubs here in the city.
Maéva: A tiny side project we are working on is about Laterna Magicas, the old projection apparatus, and there is a great collection of slides at Columbia University that we want to check out.
Georg/Maéva: The most inspiring thing in the city is just wandering about, there are places to marvel and wonder on every corner.
