Julie Morel

In this film, co-written with Julie Morel, we find the same power and energy intact and deployed in two stages. First of all, four portraits in which we learn that practising art or thought has enabled each of the subjects to live through and confront the traumas born of social violence. For one of them it’s voluntary exile and survival thanks to the inner strength brought about by singing, for another, it’s retreating from the world and into writing. And for each of them, a unique path.

This polyphonic film by the Belgian film artist about the history of Europe and art is an unforgettable, sensual journey between memory and nightmare. To a meditative, threatening soundtrack, we hear a series of monologues by poets and crazy people, mothers and children. Meanwhile, the image forces the eye to reflect on what and where.

This polyphonic film by the Belgian film artist about the history of Europe and art is an unforgettable, sensual journey between memory and nightmare. To a meditative, threatening soundtrack, we hear a series of monologues by poets and crazy people, mothers and children. Meanwhile, the image forces the eye to reflect on what and where.

This polyphonic film by the Belgian film artist about the history of Europe and art is an unforgettable, sensual journey between memory and nightmare. To a meditative, threatening soundtrack, we hear a series of monologues by poets and crazy people, mothers and children. Meanwhile, the image forces the eye to reflect on what and where.

This polyphonic film by the Belgian film artist about the history of Europe and art is an unforgettable, sensual journey between memory and nightmare. To a meditative, threatening soundtrack, we hear a series of monologues by poets and crazy people, mothers and children. Meanwhile, the image forces the eye to reflect on what and where.

There is hardly any image in Cellule 719: from time to time we see a glimpse of water, but otherwise the film is mainly black. The texts that appear on the screen in grey are from ‘Ein brief Ulrike Meinhofs aus dem Toten Trakt’, a letter written in 1972 by the RAF member Ulrike Meinhof, when she was just imprisoned. For Annik Leroy, this video project is only an intermediate stop in a longer process, a study of the historical RAF and, even more so, into the psychological mechanisms of terror, and the personality structure of a public figure who is left alone in complete isolation with her most private self.