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A Dream, Reality, or Something Else Entirely.
- Richard Caeiro
- Apr 20
- 9 min read
An exclusive interview with Jean-Baptiste Bagaria, director of the film "La Quête".
by Vic Kings and Richard Caeiro.
Jean-Baptiste Bagaria directed his first feature film "La Quête" in February 2023 at Tourrettes-sur-Loup. This film enthusiast had already made two short films, "Mythos" and "Pigeon Wing" (a pilot project for a sports channel). A self-taught filmmaker, he attended for 4 years the Drama classes of Christian Gonon (member of the Comédie Française) and Brigitte Damiens at the Conservatory of Antony. He also played in the "Bureau des Légendes" (season 2), the web series "Ritals" and "Frapuccino". In addition to his passion for cinema and theatre, Jean-Baptiste Bagaria is also a sports journalist (trained at the Institut Pratique de journalisme), has worked for Orange Sport, Sport 365, Direct8, Direct Star, and is currently an assistant editor on the Equidia channel.
You are a self-taught filmmaker, yet you trained for years in drama with Christian Gonon at the Conservatoire d’Antony. How has your formation as an actor shaped the way you construct scenes behind the camera, especially in a film so driven by emotional encounters
My training as an actor at the conservatory allows me to gain a deeper understanding of this profession. Some directors may not experience the sensation of acting, of being crossed by emotions; yet, I think it is essential to know this profession of actors to better stage and accompany them. The characters are at the heart of my film; it is a film of actors who have worked in supporting roles that are essential for the film. I expressed through this film a true love for my actors.
Your career in sports journalism (Orange Sport, Equidia) demands clarity, agility, and objectivity. Cinema, on the other hand, often thrives on ambiguity and silence. How do you switch off your factual journalist mode to enter the subjective and fictional world of cinema?
It's primarily my job as a manager (since I manage journalists) that has been so valuable for the film, in managing the artistic and technical teams. My job is my job, but artistically, I feel more like a poet, filled with ideas and emotions that I must express. I have no choice; it's in my blood, it's undeniable. It's indeed very different from my job as a journalist, which by definition deals with facts. I'd love to be able to make a living from my passion, but it's a complicated industry, and I don't want to compromise on the artistic side. I want to tell my stories with the actors I choose. Perhaps one day I'll have that opportunity. For now, I'm balancing my job and my passion. We'll see where the future takes me.
You spent ten months performing the solo show Troie. How did that experience of holding an audience’s attention in solitude prepare you for the responsibility of directing your first feature?
My only one on stage about the Trojan War that I had written and which was staged by my friend François Xavier Phan (a talented French actor), who left this world (way too early), allowed me to understand that I did not want to be alone on stage. I was happy and proud of this project, but I quickly felt solitude. I realized that I wanted to be surrounded, share emotions, and moments of life. I like to play, I have the soul of an actor, but I am happier as a screenwriter and director. I find it interesting, for example, the career of Mathieu Kassovitz, who alternates between acting and directing. He does what he likes. It would be great to have this kind of career.
La Quête begins with an inheritance but quickly becomes something much more existential. At what point did you realize this story was not only about a father’s absence, but about identity itself?
Indeed, "La Quête" is both a quest of the father, but also and above all an existential quest. The Self-quest. It’s an inner quest for the main character who, beyond knowing who his father is, learns to know who he is. I knew right away that this film would be much more than a quest for the father, for writing.
Pierre is described as a young Parisian “in perdition.” How did you approach portraying that internal drift? Is there a planned visual or rhythmic contrast between the chaos of Paris and the atmosphere of the village where the search takes place?
Pierre is a character in anger, in depression, consumed by fear. He is tired and damaged. We see it in the first moments of the film: fatigue, annoyance, tension. Indeed, I wanted to have a contrast between the urban, concrete, and gray Paris that many Parisians who work there experience. (The La Défense district, for example, is devoid of humanity), and Tourrettes-sur-Loup, which is surrounded by nature and magic. The village is a full-fledged living character that distills positive energy to the heroes of "La Quête". It is surrounded by a calm and gentle nature that soothes our main character (Le Caire, the river Le Loup, walks in the pine forest).
Tourrettes-sur-Loup is more than a setting; it feels like a threshold space between past and present. What drew you to this village, and how did its geography influence the emotional architecture of the story?
Tourrettes-sur-Loup is the place where I feel most at home in the world. It's my family's ancestral home. It's a place that touches my soul. I didn't choose to film in Tourrettes. One day, I was having coffee in Nice with my mother. I had a five-minute lapse in concentration, and the film unfolded before my eyes, and it all took place in Tourrettes. It's quite inexplicable. I simply had to film in Tourrettes, that's all. It was unreal, but I knew that I had to do this movie.
The “two strange notaries” give an almost surreal tone to the beginning of the journey, as if Pierre is entering a ritual rather than a legal process. Were you intentionally playing with the codes of fable or initiation tale at the beginning, or does it remain strictly a drama of self-discovery?
Thank you for this question. I'm impressed by your analysis. Indeed, the notaries are the first messengers, those who announce the Quest to the main character. They are strange and have an office that reflects their eccentricity. In fact, this office belonged to a French professor who was a specialist on Nostradamus… hence the strange atmosphere that pervades the place. I was inspired by the twins in Alice in Wonderland for these two notaries… Besides, nothing says that everything Pierre experiences is real, just like Alice's. I really love Lewis Carroll's work: everything is at once whimsical, absurd, but profoundly human.
I deliberately left this ambiguity open. Everyone can draw their own interpretation; I'm leaving the door open. To be honest, I don't have the answer. I myself have this doubt. Is it real, is it a dream, or something else entirely? I don't know. I love these two notaries. Christian Gonon and Christopher Bayemi are formidable.
Throughout Pierre’s journey, he encounters people connected to his father. Did you conceive these characters as fragments of memory, witnesses of truth, or mirrors reflecting aspects of Pierre himself?
Answers 2 and 3. It depends on how you apprehend the story. For my part, I will tell you Monday answer 2, Friday after drinking two glasses of wine answer 3. It all depends on how you enjoy the movie. It’s up to you to choose what speaks to you the most, up to you to choose according to your feelings. I am happy with your questions because they show that the film is ultimately poetry with a form and background that can be interpreted differently depending on each person’s personality and emotional state when they watch it. But beyond all these interpretations, what matters is to be touched by what you see or feel through the film.
February light in the South of France has a particular texture, especially in its melancholy. How did you manage to work with natural light and seasonal atmosphere to echo Pierre’s emotional state?
Another excellent question. We were simply lucky. I filmed in February because I didn't want to have a village set in the middle of summer or spring. I was counting on February to bring that melancholy. February is a melancholic month, just like January. The weather was on our side and perfectly matched the film's atmosphere. I filmed in just 13 days with my iPhone. The actors volunteered their time, so I couldn't wait for the light to be just right before filming. It took luck, and I had it, especially with the weather, which was invaluable to the film.
As an assistant editor at Equidia, what was the editing process for La Quête like? Were you able to distance yourself from the footage and let go of control in the editing room? Did you ever have to silence your “assistant editor” instincts to protect the film’s emotional flow?
I'm a chief editor, I manage a team of journalists, and I am not a film editor. I worked with an editor to edit the film. It was easy to edit; having shot for only 13 days for a 90-minute film, we had exactly what we needed. I already had my film in mind while I was shooting it, which saved time on set and allowed us to include the entire film I had envisioned. We spent many sleepless nights editing, and it was a wonderful experience working with the editor, someone I admire, who also brought a touch of poetry to the film.
This is your first feature film. What surprised you the most about the endurance required to carry a story over a longer format compared to your short films, Mythos and Pigeon Wing?
This feature film is my artistic quest. Making a feature film, my first, with an iPhone 13 in 13 days, with most scenes shot outdoors, seemed impossible. People called me crazy, said it was impossible, that I wouldn't succeed. I took on the challenge, I believed in it, and I was convinced I could do it. To be honest, it would be impossible to do it again under those conditions; I was lucky, but I made my own luck. I had that strength within me. It was my quest. It was sometimes difficult, but I only remember the positive. It was an exceptional artistic adventure, but above all, a human one. I think you can feel that strength in the film, that desire to never give up, that artistic and personal journey which, despite the difficulties, continues to move forward and believe.
The search for a password suggests something almost symbolic; as if truth itself must be unlocked. What does that password represent to you on a deeper level?
I can't reveal the final password, but it's one of the film's powerful messages. It's about courage. It's the most important value for me. I cherish this value. I have a lot of respect and admiration for courageous people because they are the ones who, despite their doubts, difficulties, and fears, will show courage and try to overcome any challenge, no matter what it is. And whether you succeed or not, as long as you've shown courage, you are worthy of respect.
Finally, the film and the quest progressing through clues are quite classic, but I like the idea of these strange characters who reveal the hero both in form (the progress of the quest) and in substance (the mending of his soul).
Your trajectory in communication and arts bridges theatre, journalism, television, and now cinema. Do you see La Quête as a synthesis of these disciplines, or as a break from them?
No, it's different. Beyond the film, I truly see it as poetry. It's a grand poem. I'm experiencing strange things that I'm transcribing. To be honest, I don't know where they come from. But I let myself be carried away, I listen, and then I write. I'd like to continue expressing what drives me through either films or books. It's something quite surreal, much stronger than my other activities. It can't be explained. It's strange, but that's how it is. We'll see where all this leads me.
With appearances in series such as Le Bureau des Légendes and Ritals, you have experienced the sets of major productions. What did you bring from these acting experiences to your own identity as an independent director?
It's different, indeed. I had the opportunity to act opposite Mathieu Kassovitz, but I was frustrated because it was a small role, and ultimately, you can't really express yourself as an artist. Now I want to write and direct my own films because that's where I truly thrive. With or without resources, I will continue to write and direct works that draw their inspiration from my thoughts and my soul.
Fathers and sons have long been a central theme in French cinema and literature. Were there particular artists, films, novels, or personal experiences that unconsciously guided you while writing this story?
My favorite film about the father/son relationship is "Big Fish". It's a masterpiece by Tim Burton. It's magnificent, a great poem, a modern fairy tale that touches your soul and heart.
When Pierre finally reaches the truth about his father, the real question may not be what he discovers, but how it changes him. What do you hope audiences will carry with them after the final scene?
Pierre's anger disappears... finally. It was what was eating him up inside. He forgives the culprit because the anger within him is gone. It was directed at his father, but upon learning the truth, he leaves him. He is healed. He will now be able to rebuild his life more peacefully, finally at peace for the first time in his life.
This scene is very powerful, as are the scenes during the end credits, which are essential to the film's final interpretation. I hope this film touches people, not everyone, but some. That's also what art, poetry, is about; sometimes it touches you, sometimes it doesn't. It's not mathematics; it's something else entirely.
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