[April 7 2021] : Magazine
photography and interview by OLIVIER ZAHM
art direction by VINCENT DARRÉ
style by YASMINE ESLAMI
the most secretive and charismatic icon of french cinema looks in a mirror made of images of herself from across her stellar career— at designer vincent darré’s apartment in the heart of paris, an island of color and eccentricity.
OLIVIER ZAHM — What is your favorite island? Memory of an island? An island where you’d happily spend the rest of your life?
ISABELLE ADJANI — It’s a peninsula: Comporta in Portugal. The possibility of an insular, insolent life linked to the continent. Formentera, Mediterranean confetti scattered between Spain and Algeria. An eco-island in the Maldives, as long as it’s not underwater. Marlon Brando’s island, where I refused to follow him aged 19, which I still don’t know. More modestly, close to my dreams, the islands of Connemara. The Île Saint-Louis, that ultimate urban refuge. But to spend my life on an island in the tropics or at the end of the world, even a paradisal one, no thanks! I’m neither Friday nor Robinson.
OLIVIER ZAHM — And if we went now? Right now. Where would you go?
ISABELLE ADJANI — I’d travel with Baudelaire:
“Ô Mort, vieux capitaine, il est temps ! levons l’ancre !
Ce pays nous ennuie, ô Mort ! Appareillons !
Si le ciel et la mer sont noirs comme de l’encre,
Nos cœurs que tu connais sont remplis de rayons”
[Death, old captain, let’s cast off! The time has come!
This country holds no joy for us. Come! Let’s depart!
Although both sea and sky are bathed in inky gloom,
You know that your bright flame still burns in every heart!]
Otherwise, right this minute, I dream of going to Costa Rica. It’s so well preserved and has such biodiversity. It’s just an incredible place.
OLIVIER ZAHM — In this period of global isolation, we all cling on to a little rock: our morale. Where does the current torment leave you?
ISABELLE ADJANI — Tormented — and tired. Gloomy ideas and the death of our freedom are infecting our bodies more than the virus! Between rage and despair, between anger and powerlessness, like many other artists, rendered inessential by decree, refusing to be just a distraction to amuse the dreary...
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