Filmmakers, like architects, take a unique look at their environment. Are those who have the task of drawing up the plans for our homes or gathering places influenced by cinema? Do films represent a source of inspiration for them? In the series “The Architecture Lesson”, The duty meets architects to talk about their profession, but through the filter of the seventh art.
In the projects she has been designing for several years, Eve Desrosiers is constantly learning from her own lessons… but especially from others. Her creativity lives to the rhythm of the school calendar. For the firm Héloïse Thibodeau Architecte, her name is linked to several primary and secondary schools in great need of a facelift or imperative expansions due to student overpopulation.
Despite limited resources and restrictive technical guidelines, Eve Desrosiers gives a beautiful shine to buildings that betray their age, erected at a time when construction and haste went hand in hand — things have not always changed much. With her architect’s eye that never sleeps, she has proposed bright, dynamic and sometimes overflowing with colour additions in various schools in Montreal (École Ferland, École Philippe-Labarre, École Paul-Bruchési) and Montérégie (École Omer-Séguin). She also arranged to meet the photographer of Duty in front of another of his creations, this time at the Saint-François-d’Assise school. This project also benefited from the unique touch of Montreal artist Shelley Miller, who specializes in creating public art, here offering a hollow relief entitled Tabs and labyrinths (2018).
Do you remember your first contact with cinema, and did it inspire or influence your career as an architect?
I remember very well the first movie I saw on the big screen: AND (1982), by Steven Spielberg. I was 7 years old, exactly the same age as Drew Barrymore in the film; in a way, we grew up together! [rires] It was love at first sight for this universe.
Cinema was then very important during my years of architecture studies at the University of Montreal. What was wonderful about this department was that we didn’t just learn to draw: we had the opportunity to explore ideas, open our minds and learn to inject a story into our projects. My brain was constantly boiling, and I sometimes had trouble sleeping. That’s when I discovered that Télé-Québec broadcast repertory cinema late at night. I can’t count the masterpieces I saw at that time!
One night, quite by chance, we were broadcasting Stalker (1979), by Andrei Tarkovsky: this film completely captivated me. The next day, another coincidence, but I’m still not sure, a photographer was giving a lecture in one of my classes, talking at length about the importance of light, chiaroscuro, while making reference to… Stalker ! Had she seen him the day before?
Would you say that the profession of architect is similar, in many ways, to that of a filmmaker?
There are many parallels. Whether it’s a film or a building, people only see the end result; many people don’t realize how much work goes into making these projects a reality. We don’t want to know about the difficulties of development, preferring to be carried away by a story or the beauty of a place. That’s why I always sit until the last line of the credits of a film: all these people put in an enormous amount of work to make this work a success. Ultimately, whether we’re talking about architecture or cinema, we always come back to the importance of teamwork.
When I was a student, there was sometimes a hesitation to propose ideas solely for their beauty — I hope it’s different now! Architects have to deal with a lot of budgetary constraints, especially when designing schools. But it seems essential to me to bring small personal touches, to favor natural light for example, to create a feeling of well-being. The architect and the filmmaker have placed small things here and there in their projects: the user of the place enters into a story like the spectator in a film, and it doesn’t matter if they don’t see all the small details. These infiltrate them, gradually.
Do you consider that architect characters are very present, and above all very inspiring, in cinema?
Several striking examples come to mind. First, in Inception [de Christopher Nolan, 2010]Leonardo DiCaprio’s character hires a young architecture student (Elliot Page) and tells her what all architects would like to hear: you can build all sorts of things that have never existed; you don’t need a budget, because these constructions will be in the world of dreams; you have only one limit… that of your imagination!
In 12 Angry Men (1957), by Sidney Lumet, we often forget, but the character played by Henry Fonda works as an architect. Eleven members of the jury are convinced of the guilt of a teenager accused of murder, but at the end of the table, Henry Fonda listens to them, silent, arms crossed. Afterwards, he will gradually make their convictions bend. For me, this is a magnificent metaphor for the work of the architect. He listens to the clients, the engineers and the landscape architects, but as a good team leader, he also makes sure that everyone talks to each other to arrive at something that holds together.
Before our interview, I also thought about the novel The Fountainhead (1943), by Ayn Rand [traduction française : La source vive]a book that every architecture student reads at some point in their career. This book is truly a classic: even Patrick Swayze gives a copy to Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing [d’Emile Ardolino, 1987] ! [rires] Gary Cooper stars in film adaptation [de King Vidor, 1949]. His character, Howard Roark, represents the demanding, uncompromising architect, incapable of changing his mind, always looking for innovations. The profession has evolved a lot since that time, but the book and the film demonstrate that the architect is not simply there to fulfill an order, but to defend ideas. Moreover, not so long ago, the architect was much more visible during the inauguration of projects. Today, many see us as executors, while our role is essential.
What cinematic universe would you like to live in?
Like almost all architects, I would love to spend time at Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) by Wes Anderson, or in his most recent short films: it is so colorful, so symmetrical, so theatrical. Otherwise, in Red Mill (2001), by Baz Luhrmann; this filmmaker succeeded in making me love musicals. Finally, I have great admiration for the Japanese Hayao Miyazaki (Princess Mononoke, The Boy and the Heron), especially for My Neighbor Totoro (1988). He always presents universes full of fantasy, loaded with nuances, never Manichean, and where inanimate things come to life in an astonishing way.
How important is the architecture of movie theaters to you? Do the oldest ones inspire you? Is it the same for the most recent ones?
My earliest memories of movies on the big screen date back to my childhood in Rivière-du-Loup, where I frequented the Princesse cinema — that’s where I watched AND The place seemed grandiose and solemn to me. But let’s be honest: once the lights are out, the most important thing is a quality screening and comfortable seats. I won’t hide from you that I would love to design a movie theater, but taking into account today’s requirements; I would avoid curtains and small balconies. And rather than having big lights that appear after the end of the screening, I would opt for the illusion of a starry sky, so that the spectators can experience a harmonious transition between the end of the film and the moment they leave the place. It would also encourage them to watch the credits until the end!