We the Emigrants (La Traversée)

[Al-khiyal]

Elisabeth Leuvrey, 55’, prod. Alice Films/Artline Films, 2006

Every summer, many people sail across the Mediterranean between France and Algeria. Within the enclosed space of the ship, amidst the coming and going and during the suspended time of the trip, these tossed and shuttled women and men, carrying their load of bags and stories, give us a different perspective on immigration.

We the Emigrants (La Traversée)

[Al-khiyal]

Interview with Elisabeth Leuvrey

How did you end up on this ferry between Marseilles and Algiers?

I found myself there almost «by accident», even though I feel I was destined to board this boat at some point in time. Let me explain: in recent years, I’ve made a number of trips to Algeria to work on a documentary project on memory, identity and what is passed on from one generation to the next. I was born in Algeria - the youngest - the descendent of five generations of Algiers inhabitants. Europeans of the Mediterranean who were called, in one of those pithy turns of phrase ascribed by history, the «French» of Algeria (the majority of these men and women came from Italy, Spain, Malta, Greece and also Germany, Switzerland, and so on).

To begin with, I made the journey by plane, but the «transition» from one world to the other was too much of a shock to my system. So I decided to try my luck with the boat. On my first crossing, I felt something strange in the air when talking to the passengers, but I couldn’t yet put my finger on it. I felt this vibe again on my return trip and quickly made up my mind that the boat was the only way to travel to Algiers from there on in. That’s how I came to realise that on board, from the decks to the lounges, the cabins to the bars, this halfway house - between shores, countries and homelands - formed a space in the mind’s eye that each passenger could call his own during the crossing. I found myself in the midst of what I felt to be a «rite of passage» - which I had been seeking, and which I also needed myself and had come to find on boarding this ferry between France and Algeria.

Given the remarkable diversity of people met on board, can you really say that the ferry’s passengers are the product of a collective Franco-Algerian history?

Nobody just «happens» to get on this boat. That might be the case one day, but for the time being it’s not. I barely saw a single tourist on the twenty crossings we made to make this film, in that all the passengers bore something of this Franco-Algerian history, as you put it.

I was very careful when filming not to let myself be led astray by this incredible diversity passing before my eyes. There was a great temptation to try and take stock of a given socio-ethnological reality.

No. What interested me in each meeting was the internal echo it set off within. I wanted to paint in fine strokes the portrait of a feeling that I felt myself, that of the emotional tug of war created by being between two shores, between two countries and between two identities.

Was the crossing time conducive to dialogue?

The crossing lasts 24 hours, perfect for people to tell their stories.

People start talking to while away the time, but also out of necessity precisely because the boat becomes, on a subconscious level and only as long as the crossing lasts, a place you hadn’t dared hoped for where you can tell your story to yourself and others. There is no more «over there» seen from over here or «over here» seen from over there. You’re no longer in France, but not yet in Algeria. And vice versa. The boat becomes like an airlock for souls that visibly change state during the trip. For the passengers, on both the outward and return trip, this is a way of taking time to find a reason, taking the time to get back into the customs (of each shore).

Uprooting and adapting to a different culture are recurring themes in the film. What are the questions asked by these passengers who sail between two shores?

The film features immigrants, French nationals of Algerian origin who live in France, but also Algerians who live in Algeria and who are also - because of the past that connects these two countries - caught up in this coming and going. And the question of uprooting and/or adapting to a different culture is relevant to all of them.

Beyond that, obviously, every story is unique, but what stands out in particular, crossing after crossing, in the closed world of the boat, is that all the experiences speak of feeling unsettled, of melancholy. You often see conversations full of contradictions and paradoxes.

Yet the central question on everyone’s mind remains, «Where do I belong?», but also «Where did I belong before and where do I belong now?» What I found interesting in this moment in time - the ferry crossing - is that it is the ideal metaphor, the perfect symbol of the «movement» of these people desperately seeking a place to belong.

A place where they can find themselves or - should I say - find their way.

There is a lot of talk in the film about feeling like outsiders in France. Do you think it would be right to talk about being outcast?

Absolutely! The characters never stop talking about it throughout the film. They don’t always come straight out with it. Sometimes, this feeling is expressed from behind an apparent rejection of France. You notice that, most of the time, they express their feelings in a very ambivalent way. This love-rejection conveys this feeling of being outcast. This desperate attempt to get a reticent France to love them.

Arabophobia, Islamophobia, racism ... Is France a xenophobic country?

Those are very strong words. They are words bandied about by the media and splashed across the front pages of the newspapers.

But how true are they? All I can say here is that the motivation for this film was the need, driven by a strong personal conviction, to deconstruct the «media» representation of the migrant, the Other.

The aim of choosing to show the passengers only when they are on board, in an extremely noncommittal setting (the sea, the horizon and the boat being neutral), was to take them out of their social context and hence provide a ground for the expression of their feelings. On this original stage, their words, consequently freer, more universal and hence easier to relate to, reverberate with a surprising intensity.

The integration problem exploded onto the French political scene with the riots of November 2005. Did your film take on a new meaning in the light of these events?

A certain group of French people (of immigrant origin) were simply calling France to order in an uprising that could be called Republican. They were challenging the Republic over its relationship with them.

It is extremely important to listen to this voice, which speaks out with all its weight in La Traversée. It is vital to take in this desperate craving for love, this quest to belong, this search for a third world that runs through the film.