But then, any blurb-writer would struggle to summarize this film. It is a story about a man who tells a story (the narrator — Auster himself) about a man writing a story (David Thewlis) about a man who writes a story. Thewlis's character, Martin Frost, has escaped to a house in the country, intending to decompress from the stress of completing a novel, but awakes to find a beautiful woman (Irene Jacob) in his bed. She brings change to his life, and the film revolves around their relationship. Like Auster's novels, Martin Frost is concise and deceptively simple on its surface, but with a serious philosophy underneath. Michael Imperioli, who plays fix-it man and aspiring author Fortunato, says it best: Auster's cinematic style is "precise and essential." — Bryan Whitefield
I get the feeling that you're genuinely proud of this film.
I am, to tell you the truth. It's very difficult to make a film these days. Especially a strange, little indie film like this. It was a lot of hard work. And it turned out the way I wanted it to. For better or for worse, it's the movie I wanted to make.
You're certainly indulging in a writer's fantasy having a beautiful French philosophy student wake up in Martin's bed.
It's more of a male fantasy in general. . . I thought of it more as the most classically farcical way to begin a story.
But then you put the cherry on top by making her a fan of his work. She's read everything he's written.
[laughs] That's true.
Though Martin is so regimented and rational, she convinces him to completely suspend logic.
Well, she charms him by telling him how much she admires his work, which makes him let down his guard. And then of course she's very attractive and leads him on by ripping off her t-shirt. What man could resist such an offer?
Sex as the thinking man's true escape.
[laughs] Right! Even the unthinking man's true escape. Yes, but he really falls for her. It's not entirely physical, is it?
No, you see that they truly care for one another, sex aside. It also fits this character as a writer, because a writer writing a story doesn't always know the ending when he begins, and so he has to take a leap of faith and let the story lead him.
Yes, yes. That's very true. It's a film about imagination and longing in the end. And then there are elements of comedy as well.
When Michael Imperioli shows up, it becomes almost a different movie altogether.
This Fortunato character, who is such a pain in the neck. . . he's funny, and it's diverting to watch him, but at the same time the way he keeps showing up and interrupting Martin's life only brings out the pathos in Martin's situation even more.
When you finally see Martin reacting to a real person, you see his agitation and his distance, and it's almost as if he's still existing in his imagination, or this fantasy world that he's created.
Exactly. And some of David Thewlis' reactions to the things that Michael says and does are really hilarious and on the mark. Little stammering things he does with his face that are quite remarkable. . .
You got pretty lucky with an actor who's worked with Bertolucci, Terrence Malick, Mike Leigh. . .
Yes, but he's also a great person. All of the actors were eager to do well. To work hard and to do it all in a good spirit. There were no egos flying around the set.
Then you have Irene Jacob who starred in two of Kieslowski's films, specifically The Double Life of Veronique. . .
I actually prefer Red. Red is one of my favorite movies of the past 20 years. Irene Jacob is an actress I always liked and met some years ago. She was the first person I gave the script to and she accepted right away. So I think I got lucky there too.
But The Double Life of Veronique didn't have any influence on your own film? Because it deals with some similar ideas.
It's funny. I like Kieslowski's work a lot and I've even been told that there are people who have written Ph. D. theses comparing my books to his films. It's very curious and I do think there is some kind of vibrating relationship, something that is similar in our work that would be difficult to put my finger on exactly. . . I wasn't thinking of Double Life when I wrote my film. But I do believe that we belong in the same realm, as artists and storytellers.
I can see that. You both deal with questions of perceived reality. . .
Questions of chance. Parallel lives. All kinds of spiritual matters that can't really be articulated.
You are a part of the film yourself. You narrate the story, and there are pictures of you and your family on the mantle of the house where Martin is staying.
Yes, Siri [Hustvedt, Auster's wife] and I are playing Jack and Diane.
Did you pick those names purposely because of the John Mellencamp song?
You know, at first the names were Jack and Ruth, but then Irene, whose first language is French, had great difficulty saying the name Ruth. So I decided to change it during rehearsal, to make it easier for her, and I just picked Diane out of the blue. I didn't even know about the song to tell you the truth. Then somebody told me about the song and I said, "So much the better."
And the photos were just a matter of chance. I knew we would need family photos for the house, and rather than paying actors to pose for photos, I just pulled pictures out of our albums and took them to Portugal with me. So for people that recognize us, it adds another level to the film, and for those that don't, it doesn't matter.
I thought the music was an excellent compliment to the film.
Laurent Petitgand, the composer, is really, really good. There's something like forty minutes of music in the film, which is a lot, and it's extremely varied. In the beginning, it's quite jaunty and playful, and then when the film hits its darker moments it changes and becomes quite lyrical and passionate without overwhelming the images.
It adds another layer to the film.
It's funny, because I actually had another composer lined up to do the score, but he had to drop out to do another project. I was really quite desperate. Didn't know who to call or what to do. And then Wim Wenders, who is an old, old friend, called the house to wish Sophie [Auster's daughter, who is also in the film] a happy birthday, and I picked up the phone and told him my problem with just losing my composer, and he was the one that suggested Laurent. So I gave him a thank you in the credits for that.
I saw you also thanked Hal Hartley.
Hal Hartley is a good friend, and when I finished the screenplay I gave it to him because I think it's always important to get feedback. And he loved it so much, and that encouraged me, and I felt that I wanted to thank him for that.
Someone at the screening asked you why it took you so long between your last film and this one.
I don't consider myself a full-time filmmaker. I'm just not. The idea for Martin Frost came to me only about a year after I finished Lulu on the Bridge [Auster's first film] . But at the time I wasn't eager to go through that again, and there was a novel I wanted to write, The Book of Illusions, and so I put the Martin Frost idea to the side. Then right after finishing The Book of Illusions, 9/11 happened and I went into an emotional tailspin. I didn't have that urge to get out of my room and work with other people. I wanted to be alone and think my own thoughts. It took a number of years before I felt ready.
Is making a film more difficult than writing a novel?
The experiences are entirely different. Writing a book is just you in a room, by yourself, quietly going about your business. It's mentally draining, and I come home from a day of working on a novel feeling physically exhausted. But something about filmmaking takes more out of you. There are so many hundreds of details you have to pay attention to, and the shoot itself is very intense because it's time and money you're dealing with. You don't have a lot of room to hesitate. If you make a mistake writing a book, you can just crumple up the page and throw it away. If you make a mistake in front of your entire crew. . . [laughs] So you're on your toes a lot more when working on a film.
It's the collaborative aspect that is so attractive to me. Because I spend so much of my life, alone, sitting in my room. And the few times I've gotten out of that room to work on films it's been very invigorating and inspiring for me. As a kid I played all kinds of sports — baseball, basketball, football — and I liked being on teams. Then I got older and became a writer, and I didn't work with anyone anymore. So making a film is a bit like recapturing some of those feelings of being on a team again.