Gaspar Noé / Jan Kounen
In this conversation about Vortex, Gaspar Noé appears far removed from the image of the confrontational provocateur that has followed him throughout his career. Speaking with Jan Kounen, the exchange quickly takes on an intimate, almost melancholic tone. Noé talks less about cinematic shock and more about aging, memory, and the gradual erasure of identity.
He explains that the film emerged from personal experiences, particularly from witnessing people close to him dealing with cognitive decline. Illness is never treated as spectacle or abstraction. Instead, Noé describes it as a slow disintegration of everyday life. He insists that he wanted to portray the loss of autonomy in a direct and unsentimental way, without artificial dramatization.
The discussion with Jan Kounen is especially compelling because both filmmakers are often associated with altered states of consciousness and extreme sensory experiences. Here, however, Noé redirects that fascination toward something far more grounded. In Vortex, disorientation no longer comes from drugs or hallucinatory imagery, but from the aging brain and the isolation of the mind itself.
A central point of the interview is the use of split screen. Noé explains that the device was never intended as a stylistic gimmick. Instead, he wanted to depict two mental trajectories unfolding simultaneously: two people sharing the same apartment while gradually becoming trapped inside incompatible inner realities. The split frame becomes a visual expression of psychological separation.
The conversation also reveals the emotional importance of Dario Argento’s presence in the film. Noé speaks of him with genuine affection, describing his casting not only as a cinematic gesture but also as a personal one. There is a sense of admiration and transmission running through the way he discusses him.
What ultimately stands out most is Noé’s view of death. Contrary to what one might expect from his cinema, he does not seem fascinated by death itself. What obsesses him more is consciousness, the way it fractures, fades, and struggles to remain intact before disappearing entirely.
Jan Kounen approaches the exchange with calm attentiveness, encouraging Noé to elaborate without pushing toward confrontation or provocation. The result is a surprisingly gentle discussion for two filmmakers so often associated with extreme cinema. Beneath the technical and artistic reflections lies a more intimate anxiety: the fear of slowly losing one’s inner world while still remaining physically present.