Andrei Tănăsescu: There is a dominant feeling that MAMMALIA’s genesis emerges from the friction between reality and the subconscious. Where did the idea for the film come from?
Sebastian Mihăilescu: Life is not just one feeling at a time. It’s chaotic. And I believe films should mirror that. As a director, I do whatever is necessary to try to capture and control that chaos, making films that swing between constraints, order, and symmetry on the one hand, and obsession, volatile behavior, and lack of control on the other hand. Some of the inspiration comes from the work of Baudrillard, who talks about hyperreality and simulacra. It’s the idea that everything is so simulated that we don't have anything real anymore. While a bit of an exaggeration, it’s something that I'm interested in.
I am looking at how we can use those things that are not real in order to explore and understand the world. I sought to create a film that feels like a dream. I wanted to take a detour from realism and naturalism, and to arrive in an abstract zone that captures the fabric of everyday life by downplaying meaningful events. I have tried to create an enhanced sense of hyperreality, a corporeal cinema. I wanted to create a kind of fairytale, but by using a minimalistic approach. This will challenge viewers, I hope, inviting them to be more participative and to become aware of the voyeuristic active/passive mechanisms that condition the cinematic experience.
Your creative collaboration with writer/director Andrei Epure spans nearly a decade. How would you describe this artistic bond and how did the two of you develop the script for MAMMALIA?
SM: Andrei is a good friend and we have been working together for a very long time. We have a very strong creative bond and we understand each other very well. Despite going through numerous drafts, it was a very organic process. I have changed over the past few years, and the screenplay has changed as well. And throughout this process, I realized that I wanted to get rid of automatisms, rules, and opinions which lack a strong basis. I wanted to go back to the source, to what made me take up this profession in the first place, to the source of my spontaneity, to the joy of doing things by reconnecting with my primary motivations. I desired an unfinished idea, to have as much freedom as I can, to let myself be carried by nothing but my convictions, my obsessions, or my own limitations.
So I condensed the screenplay, turned it into something collage-based or zine-like, and filled it with references from painting and photography that spoke to me personally in a way that words couldn't. Only the absolutely necessary dialogue fragments were left, and the rest was created spontaneously.
I always mix actors with non-professionals. Professional actors employ certain methods that, in my opinion, hinder them from being as present in front of the camera as a non-professional would be. And because everyone is skilled in a different area, you should never direct an actor the same way you would a non-professional. This mix gave the film a rhythm of deliberately evocative slowness.
You’ve consistently experimented in film language throughout your filmography, moving from the formal standards of fiction to a freer expression of cinema, with MAMMALIA feeling like a significant leap forward in this natural progression. What was your artistic intention with this film, also in using 16mm?
SM: I’m a failed painter and I think painting plays a key role in my filmmaking style. I’m very interested in the surface and the materiality of things. I’m also interested in the idea of the frame and the composition.
This is a film about a journey, and the journey is really the film. It’s not about the destination—it’s about the trip. And about existence and the banality of everyday life. I wanted the film to have a very tactile quality. But at the same time, I had to be very strategic about how I used my limited time and resources. Together with Barbu Bălășoiu, the Director of Photography, we arrived at this very stripped-down look.
The film looks at the faulty ways in which we perceive and define masculinity nowadays—always linking it to performance. The lack of high performance/productivity brings with it shame and emasculation.
I love the materiality and the grain of 16mm, and I wanted the film to have a very specific texture, a very dreamlike quality. It's a very sensual project and, for me, it's all about the body. The body in space and time. The body in relation to other bodies. The body in its environment. The body as a site of pleasure and pain. The body as a site of power and vulnerability. I'm interested in how the body moves and how it is moved. I'm interested in how the body is looked at and how it looks at others. I'm interested in the corporeal dimension of human experience.
While the film discusses important topics (such as its central crisis of gendered identity), it does so with humour and (ritualistic) performativity. Can you discuss this underlying commentary on the social construct of femininity/masculinity and the film’s playful nature that frames it?
SM: The film looks at the faulty ways in which we perceive and define masculinity nowadays—always linking it to performance. The lack of high performance/productivity brings with it shame and emasculation. Sensitivity is a form of weakness, confusion is shameful.
The film also deals with the disturbances to masculine hegemony brought about by feminist discourses, looking at the ways in which the redefinition of gender roles apply directly to the male body.
But the film's commentary on the social construct of femininity/masculinity is twofold. Firstly, it satirizes the way that classic binary gender roles are often rigidly defined in society. Secondly, it highlights the performative nature of gender identity. By framing the film's central theme—the crisis of gendered identity—within a comedic context, the film emphasizes the ways in which, by assuming our gender roles, each of us contributes to skewed discourses and amplifies gender frictions.
The film also tackles preconceived ideas around femininity and how we wrongly perceive it, mistaking women’s ability to bring new life into this world for a sense of clear wholesome purpose, one that men can never attain. The film looks at gendered power plays, communion, and friction, including the different ways in which we blame men and women, as well as the ensuing shame and guilt.
The film’s sound design feels like an organic element of MAMMALIA’s world—as does the original score, by renowned Polish musician Piotr Kurek. Can you expand on their ‘presence’ in the film?
SM: The sound design creates a unique and immersive auditory experience that helps to bring the film's fantastical world to life. Meanwhile, the original score by Piotr Kurek enhances the film's emotional impact, heightening the drama and the comedy.
Can you talk a bit about the choice of locations and the art direction of the film?
SM: The often surreal and dreamlike locations help to create a sense of otherness and strangeness. This was inspired by a number of elements, including my own dreams, childhood memories, and works of art. I wanted different locations, locations that would become characters in their own right, locations that existed in my subconscious, subliminal spaces to wander into.
The art direction, which was kept sleek and minimal by Production Designer Anca Lazăr and myself, added to the surreal atmosphere of the movie. Together, these choices helped us create a unique and fantastical world that is at once familiar and strange. Anca’s team of amazing professionals helped me bring my vision to life, and I am very grateful for all their hard work and dedication.
Andrei Tănăsescu is a programmer and curator based in Toronto and Bucharest.
