Interview: Clare Peploe

Clare Peploe talks about her fascination with the eighteenth Century and the process of adapting Marivaux's original theatre play for the screen.

Oct  6 2004

‘When I was young, there was such a romantic mystique to love – and other things, like politics (a Che would be impossible now!). But now every style magazine has an article on how to masturbate or have the best orgasm, and it’s all – even emotions – a consumer thing that involves negotiation. And this eighteenth-century play is about the same thing.’

The play in question being Marivaux’s ‘The Triumph of Love’, which Clare Peploe has adapted for her fourth feature (with a little help from producer Bernardo Bertolucci, who also happens to be her partner in life). She saw it at the Almeida a few years ago, and was knocked out by its contemporary relevance.

‘Its treatment of love is very far from romantic. The eighteenth century fascinates me anyway because of the shift from traditional faith, with everything being reassessed on a scientific basis. But Marivaux is interesting because, while he was caught up in that shift, he reacted against the rationalists too, and analysed feelings in great detail. So it was an age of reason and an age of sensibility.’

With its tale of a princess taking to drag to attain her object of desire and reunite a divided nation, the play hardly makes for gritty realism, so Peploe wisely decided to revel in the artifice. ‘I didn’t change the text so much, more the action and the sentiments. It was very important to show it was a theatrical piece; the story of a girl seducing three people simultaneously is so absurd, it isn’t, clearly, happening in the eighteenth century. Playing up the theatricality would, I thought, free people up to enjoy the artifice. But at the same time I wanted to shoot it almost like a documentary, move the camera in among the characters to record their every expression; you don’t get that close on stage. I wanted to combine artifice with naturalism, theatre with film. I did something similar with the music, with Dave Gilmour’s electric guitar coming in alongside Rameau for when the emotions heat up.’

The Princess herself is a mix of lovelorn girl and ruthless strategist. ‘I was shocked by her; but what’s clever about this young woman is that instead of having the man she loves arrested – she could, because he was raised to hate her so much he wants to see her dead – she uses love and seduction (and acting!) to reconcile with her enemies. That said, the way she seduces then dumps Hermocrates and Léontine [the boy’s guardians] felt quite unbearable, so I changed things a little. Léontine isn’t a scientist in the play, but I based her on a mistress of Voltaire who translated Newton into French; I felt she should channel her passion somehow so there’s a kind of orgasmic sublimation. Having all that also stops the film seeming anti-intellectual. As for her brother, I didn’t know what to do, but Ben [Kingsley] came up with the idea of singing… which was great; it turns the finale into a musical and also suggests there’s no understanding of life without experience of love.’

And Mira Sorvino in the lead? ‘To be honest, I didn’t want an American actress, but I was told it was crucial to raising finance. But that meant it was difficult to get anyone to read the script. Mira’s agent read it, liked it, then Mira was so enthusiastic – it is an incredibly challenging part (or three parts!) – she wanted to meet in Paris, where she has a flat. I was curious, and when I met her – after walking through the Louvre to look at the eighteenth-century paintings – I found she was tall, had the right face and might look good as a boy. And she seemed charming and clever! So we walked slowly to her place and she read a piece in a perfect English accent – and I was seduced, just as if I were Léontine.’

The Triumph of Love review appeared in Time Out London October 6-13 1004. No.1781.

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