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The NS Interview: Miranda July, writer and film-maker

“It’s more interesting to play the person who makes mistakes”

Your films are experimental, yet you live in Hollywood. How does that work?
If I had moved there when I was younger, it might have been more in my bones, but I grew up in Berkeley, which was kind of countercultural, and lived in Portland, Oregon, through my twenties. Then I moved to LA. I have all of this in me, which makes me so much stronger than the little slice of my life that is trying to get these movies off the ground.

So you're not part of the LA scene?
There's the Eastside where most of my friends and I live, and the Westside where my agent lives. I avoid going to the Westside unless I have to. I just don't go to those parties.

Your new film is called The Future. How have you thought about your own?
In my twenties, I had so many hopes and dreams and I lived in the fantasy of those. Then, in my mid-thirties, the future got more real and more finite. Part of it had to do with getting married. I'm not going to do every single thing in the world; I'm going to do this thing. It's not sad, but it is a shift. You realise what your life actually is and that it is going to end.

You cast yourself as the less sympathetic character in the film. Why?
It's more interesting to play the person who makes mistakes. I also wanted the woman to have the affair. I'm never able to convince anyone how little the character I'm playing is me. To my friends, it's so obvious that the creepy guy is me, too - the kid is me, the cat is me . . .

Does it frustrate you when you're conflated with your characters?
It's hard because it is personal and I'm not trying to dodge that, but it's not autobiographical.

Do you worry about being branded a narcissist?
It comes with this territory for me. I put myself in my own movies; I obviously get something out of things revolving around me, and people looking at me. That seems illegal, shameful. I'm always wrestling with it.

Do you make work for yourself, or an audience?
Oh, I'm making it for an audience. The great challenge is if I can work from my unconscious and allow things to be mysterious but still have the audience "get it". Even my early, weirder, experimental stuff was more normal than other people's weird stuff because I always wanted an audience; I wanted to bring people in.

Could you imagine a life in which you weren't making art?
I never had a plan B. When I was younger, it seemed demented how unable I was to conceive of alternatives. The best I can do is imagine writing a lot if the economy were so bad that people like me couldn't make films any more.

Is there a moral or message to your work?
It's probably there despite myself. I don't want to do that, but I hold myself to grilling codes of right and wrong.

Where does that come from?
The harsh critic in me started young. I feel that one should be of service in the world. I don't just want to entertain, I'm trying to make a space for minor things that are overlooked.

Your character is hooked on YouTube. Do you share that obsession?
Sometimes I think I've never had any vices - I barely even drink. Then this vice was invented in my lifetime that is the perfect one for me - I'm totally weak to it. I have to expend a huge amount of energy struggling against it.

So, how do you stop yourself?
It's called Mac Freedom - I use it every day.

What worries you?
Pretty much everything.

Do you vote?
Yes. For Barack.

Are you disappointed in his presidency?
Not as much as most people. He just needs us to guide him. I feel like he believes in a lot of things I believe in, but he has to take risks, he has to be braver.

Is there anything you would like to forget?
A couple of gaffes on my part. They just don't need to be there in my mind.

Is there a plan?
I'm pretty planned out in the sense that I'm the boss of my life. When you are making movies or doing long-term projects, you have time to think. I know I will be working on a novel for quite a while, and then I have a lot of sub-plans.

Is the book a sacred object to you?
I grew up with books - my parents were publishers. A book! You don't mess with that.

Are we all doomed?
In the sense of the planet, I think so. Not that there aren't things we can do. But, yeah, my sense of my grandchildren's future is not great. It is startling to me that I think that and yet walk around doing almost nothing about it.

Defining Moments

1974 Born in Vermont
1996 LaunchesJoanie 4 Jackie, a video chain-letter with films by women
2005 Me and You and Everyone We Know, her debut feature, wins the Caméra d'Or at Cannes
2005 Publishes her first story as a chapbook
2007 Scribner publishes her first short-story collection, No One Belongs Here More Than You
2009 Marries the director Mike Mills
2011 Releases second feature film, The Future, and publishes a memoir, It Chooses You

Sophie Elmhirst is features editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 07 November 2011 issue of the New Statesman, The triumph of the Taliban

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The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.