This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognising you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.
Privacy Overview
Strictly Necessary Cookies
Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings.
If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again.
3rd Party Cookies
This website uses Google Analytics to collect anonymous information such as the number of visitors to the site, and the most popular pages.
Keeping this cookie enabled helps us to improve our website.
Please enable Strictly Necessary Cookies first so that we can save your preferences!
Director's Statement
My earliest memory of feeling a shiver of horror run down my spine at the cinema takes me back, in fact, to a childhood dream - dreaming is, after all, like watching a film. In this dream, hair-raising-howls announced the approach of an invisible presence, which crept along the hallway in my house towards the living room, where I lay curled into a terrified ball an the sofa.
I can't have been more than five years old, and now, when I think about it, and the fact that my childhood was beset with fears - fear of the dark, fear of half-open doors, fear of wardrobes and, generally speaking, fear of just about anything that could conceal someone or "something"-, I can't help being amazed that I should end up specializing in writing and directing mystery films as well as becoming an avid devotee of this genre.
Why do we take so much pleasure in fear? What's the great fascination about going through hell at the cinema? I believe that the impassable screen that, more than ever in the case of horror, keeps the spectator firmly in his side of the theatre, converts the shiver into a feeling at once unpleasant yet comforting and, without question, into one of the most intense.
It is dangerously easy for the filmmaker to go overboard and; amid spurting blood and special effects, turn the desired shiver into sheer revulsion. Being explicit - often just a question of budget, is far more superficial than suggestion or even omission. For me, leaving something to the imagination is the essence of die anxieties, the obsessions, even the paranoias, that lie latent in the collective consciousness. Wake them, and you will transport the spectator back to the darkest corners of his infancy ... to that shiver.
I think that many mystery stories tend to lend themselves to a religiously biased, moral interpretation, almost always in relation to sinfulness: the individual who tampers witth nature and who dares to overstep the bounds of the divine; the haunted house that is only purged of its curse when it explodes into a thousand pieces; in general, stereotypes of Good versus Evil.
In THE OTHERS I have attempted to approach the subject from quite the opposite angle. I have sought to achieve the greatest possible simplicity in terms of the plot and the dramatic effects (including the special effects) in contrast to the complexity of the characters. There are neither heroes nor villains. Only human beings, trying to find some meaning to their condition or their situation.
This film, full of long, dark.corridors, is my tribute to that being, never unmasked, that stalked the hallways of my dreams.