Born in 1979 in Düsseldorf, Germany, Julie Pfleiderer is an artist who knows no bounds. Initially, she worked as an assistant director at the Schauspiel Köln theater in Cologne and assisted playwright Matthias Lilienthal at the Theater der Welt (Theatre of the World). Later, she studied at the Ernst Busch School of Dramatic Arts in Berlin. Throughout her career, she demonstrated her artistic complexity by engaging in areas such as theater and video installations. Over time, she reinvented herself by directing commercials for brands like Zara and artists like fashion designer Jean-Paul Lespagnard. Despite the limitations imposed in the creative process of a commercial, it is interesting to note how the director always showed an appreciation for a subject that would be recurring throughout her career: architecture. In her Zara commercial, Pfleiderer collaborated with Spanish architect Elsa Urquijo to create a video highlighting the design of the brand’s stores in New York, London, and A Coruña. The displayed images capture impressive details of her creation. As Urquijo emphasizes, it is not just about creating an environment but considering the feelings people will experience within it.

In the following years, Pfleiderer returned to the theme by collaborating with architect Miriam Rohde in creating a project called ‘Actual Size Real Time.’ During the ten minutes of filming, Pfleiderer and Rohde present a different perspective on architecture. In her works, what is not seen, in this case, omitted, holds the same importance as what is concrete in her vision. What cannot be captured by the camera is filled by our imagination, a tool that proves essential when studying the director’s works. Pfleiderer seems never to be satisfied with first impressions, perhaps because, for her, they are not sufficient to convey everything we need to know about a particular subject. There is a noticeable psychological aspect in the way she employs a non-linear approach to recreate representations of space that situates these constructions. Repetition, in this case, serves as a way to expand our reaction. It is as if the director questions how long our perception would remain unchanged, prompting a reflection on the durability of an idea. Unlike a construction, an idea can be interrupted, altered. It is the clash between the concrete and the abstract that seems to interest the director.

Despite always having a clear vision of her works, “Infinite Jetzt,” the director’s first short film, may represent a new stance in her relationship with art. The nineteen-minute short film appears to have a simple premise: three individuals share a story that unfolds in a café and an airport. All we know about them is what they say or, in this case, repeat. Each represents their own culture and life experience. Although the story is the same, each presents their version of the events. A simple change in narration is enough to lead the viewer in a completely different direction than previously suggested. The editing transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. There is an underlying feeling of affection; after all, it is a film about farewells. It is not just the act of saying goodbye but everything that precedes it: anticipation, longing for the moment. The black background appears as the opposite of a canvas, but it serves the same purpose: encouraging the individual to decide how to fill that void. Yet, it is a void filled with fragments of a memory, like a reconstruction.

Her new film, “Das Retirée or the Last House of My Father,” seems to delve into everything that came before in the director’s career. It is like a matryoshka of self-references, where each revelation symbolizes a new facet of her story. It is a settling of accounts, an exploration of family legacies, or perhaps just a family portrait. It’s several films in one, but Pfleiderer never lets emotions overflow. What could be an expression of a father’s affection for his family turns into a series of questions that seem to lead everyone involved to a common destination: hurt. Not necessarily to a negative feeling but to resentment toward what has been denied for so long. In its fascination with the relationship between a father and a daughter, it’s a film that explores the little white lies we pretend to believe to move forward. When it reaches larger proportions, it’s also about the act of sharing moments as a way to access collective emotions. “A house and a conversation. That’s two times working with the things you have, the things you know,” said critic and curator Pieter van Bogaert in his review of the film. It’s true that, looking from this perspective, this is a very familiar film for the director, but that doesn’t make its development any less significant. Exploring issues that are within our knowledge requires unique courage, especially when the subject being discussed seems to be intrinsically linked to one’s personal history. It seems contradictory for such a personal and intimate film to be an example of something as collective as a sense of community, but just like human essence, Pfleiderer is also complex and sometimes contradictory. Perhaps this is what makes her film such an enlightening object.

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Vitor: Architecture seems to be very present both in your life and in your artistic career. Why is this a topic that captivates your attention so much?

Julie: I think architecture can be many things and we live and breathe in spaces. Growing up with my  architect father and my parents being very interested in architecture, visual arts and photography  as well, the awareness for different spaces was always there. Apart from visiting my dad’s office  and his projects in their various stages from construction sites to inaugurations of buildings, I used  to go to the theatre with my father since I was ten years old. I was always more interested in  people, stories and their relation to space than just in space itself. Of course also in my work as  theatre director, you always create a translation of a theme or scene into an abstraction of a space.  This is something that keeps on fascinating me: how can you find a form that is a relation between  a story and a context. 

Vitor: At a certain point in the movie, your father says he doesn’t have a vision of how architecture should look; he only wonders how a person feels and how architecture can make them feel. Do you believe that, in practice, cinema can function in the same way?

Julie: Definitely. I very much relate to my dad’s way of working. It is important to see what subject needs  which form and not the other way around. Feelings and empathy come out of the relation to the  story, not just out of the aesthetics. It emerges out of the whole composition of images, time and  dramaturgy.

Vitor: Do you think pursuing an artistic career has allowed you to question things that you wouldn’t normally question?

Julie: That is a difficult question, as I have never really worked outside of my artistic career. So, I cannot judge what other people question. Working as a director in film and live arts has certainly allowed me to explore my own themes and in a different rhythm. It enables me to address topics that feel relevant in the present and build on my experiences.

Vitor: When you ask how many doors a film can have and how many of them you want to open, are you questioning how much of your life you want to share with the audience?

Julie: This letter in the film, addressed to both the film itself and ‘Das Retirée,’ is, first and foremost, a metaphor for my father and me. It reflects on the depth of what we can convey through conversation, exploring numerous unspoken topics. Some things evade direct discussion but find expression between the lines. Perhaps it’s not always necessary to articulate everything aloud. Viewing these doors as entrances to the audience, they may discern which ones they feel compelled to open or prefer to keep closed. I’m grateful I invited my father to join me in creating this film, even though collaborating with him at the age of 83 presented its challenges. The amalgamation of our distinct generations unveils various doors, not necessarily identical, yet I believe they all hold value side by side.

Vitor: While you and your father create a model representing the Retireé, a significant portion of your film unfolds within the viewer’s imagination. What is your vision of this place, and what do you believe it represents for you?

Julie: I share this longing of a calm place with my father, even though I feel my generation is easier in formulating this desire while my father’s generation didn’t take this space for themselves because of the male role of the provider and a different work ethic. At some point in the process of making ‘Das Retirée’ I felt I needed to put my own vision into the  visual language of the film as well so I created these backgrounds for the scale model to play with and the cake. My idea is a playful house full of possibilities and books, warmth, you don’t need  much but the sun and close family, friends and animals around. My dad’s and my vision had overlaps and sometimes also really not but I liked this. There is not one definition of how this place could look like.

Vitor: Although your film does not directly address death, there are moments where both you and your father seem to flirt with such thoughts. Do you believe this is one of the reasons why you brought this project to life? Is it a way to ensure your father’s work continues to thrive even after he is gone?

Julie: I feel the film is more like a conversation with my father at the end of his life and his way of looking at  the world that continues within myself and through the film it is shared with an audience. While filming it was clear that my father became more fragile and that in some ways the project kept him going but at some point it was also almost too tiring for him. I decided to stop shooting when I felt that he reached a moment that was too private for me and my family to show to possible others. My father saw the finished film three times before he actually understood it and this was a very  special moment for me. He had a stubborn personality and his own version of the film in mind but when he understood it, he was very touched by it.

Vitor: One of the aspects that impressed me the most about your work is that many documentary directors seem to be afraid of showing the “ugly side” of their subject, whereas you, on the other hand, seem to embrace all the imperfections in your relationship with your father. Was this decision to reveal this side of yourself an easy choice?

Julie: Thank you for this question. It was a challenging decision and a pivotal moment in the filmmaking process. I sensed that being German initially posed a barrier to embracing this fragility. However, with the invaluable assistance and collaboration of my Italian editor, Luca Mattei, and producers Daan Milius and Steven Dhoedt, I gradually understood the necessity of it. I learned to refrain from guarding myself too closely, opting instead to reveal the layers of our relationships, acknowledging that family dynamics are inherently complex. The film gains richness when one endeavors to portray all facets of it. Throughout the process, I often found myself navigating a dichotomy between my roles as both the daughter and the director of the film. These two functions didn’t always align, creating an intriguing dialogue that frequently unfolded unconsciously.

Vitor: I’m not sure if it’s due to my obsession with Chantal Akerman, but while watching your film, I couldn’t help but think of “No Home Movie.” Are there any influences from other directors in your work?

Julie: I find that my work is shaped by various influences, particularly my background in theatre. It is further influenced by the artists surrounding me in my daily life, including friends and colleagues involved in filmmaking and performances. My collaboration with filmmaker Ingel Vaikla in our film collective, the film class I teach, and my exposure to literature and psychology also play significant roles. Living in two countries and engaging with four languages daily contributes to this multifaceted influence. I must confess that I hadn’t watched ‘No Home Movie’ entirely until now, but ‘Jeanne Dielman’ is a film I deeply appreciate.

Vitor: Do you believe your time in theater has influenced your work with cinema in any way?

Julie: Certainly. I went to study directing at a theatre school in Berlin because I was too young for the film school at the time. I also realized that film schools focus more on technical knowledge, but my interest was in working with people and narratives. Theatre and performance art provide the space for rehearsing, improvisation, and discovering things collaboratively and with fragility. I am striving to incorporate this essence into my film work by consistently establishing performative rules for both the camera and the individuals in front of it. I appreciate how both disciplines can influence and, at times, even provoke each other.

Vitor: Now that you have completed this deeply personal project, do you plan to continue working in the realm of non-fictional cinema?

Julie: I feel very much drawn to the cinematic space at the moment and I am surely continuing to explore  it.