— Two weeks later —
In the amphitheater, Professor Maxwell posed his question in a deep, measured voice:
— In experimental cinema, should the artist guide the viewer's experience, or leave them total freedom of interpretation?
Karen answered first, with her usual confidence:
— Leaving the viewer free is essential. Every viewing becomes unique and profoundly personal.
— No, I think the artist must provide a framework, Wesley countered, his brow slightly furrowed. Total freedom risks losing the viewer in useless chaos.
— A fair balance, then, suggested Marian. — Minimal guidance, but enough latitude for everyone to project their own emotions.
Klay, nonchalantly, shrugged:
— Some experimental films are deliberately confusing. If you understand everything on the first try, they have failed.
While everyone was striving to defend their viewpoint, at the back of the room, Prince, true to form, kept pestering me, cutting me off from any concentration.
— Pss! Are you listening to me when I talk to you? he whispered, leaning slightly.
— No! You're distracting me, leave me alone! I replied, exasperated.
— It's been exactly two weeks… and he still hasn't written to you?
— But seriously, who are you talking about? I hissed through my teeth.
— About Yanni—
No sooner had he pronounced that name than the professor, who had missed none of our antics, cut us off sharply:
— Miss Dang, Mr. Arith, you seem very talkative. Since you have so much to say, please enlighten your classmates. The question remains the same: total freedom for the spectator, or a framework imposed by the artist?
I felt my heart pound faster. Of course, it had to fall on us. I took a breath, trying to maintain a serious look:
— I believe the artist must trace reference points, like a constellation in the sky. Everyone is free to see different shapes in it, but the stars remain there, silent guides.
Prince immediately straightened up, his clownish air gone, and followed up as if nothing had happened:
— Exactly. Experimental cinema is like a jazz score. The musician proposes a line, but the listener improvises their own journey while listening. The framework is there, but the freedom to feel belongs to everyone.
A slight silence swept through the amphitheater. I caught a few astonished looks, as if no one expected us to be able to answer with such assurance.
Well, for once he wasn't talking nonsense.
Karen squinted and launched in a sharp voice:
— A constellation, you say? I see clouds instead. Moving, unpredictable shapes. To want to fix them is to kill their poetry.
No way... poetry, in an experimental film?
I replied, my words precise as a blade:
— Clouds or not, without a horizon, the spectator gets lost. A completely nebulous film is no longer a work, it's a disappearance.
An «Oh! »swept through the room. Wesley, attentive until then, raised a hand to reclaim attention:
— Technically, both are right. Experimental cinema is born from the vague, but it is always anchored in an intention. Without that intention, there is only chaos.
Then he calmly put his pen down, as if he had just brought the discussion back on track.
Karen dismissed him with a distracted glance before turning back to me, more acerbically:
— Chaos, precisely, sets one free. Losing one's bearings is the opportunity to create one's own stars. The artist who marks everything out becomes a tyrant of the imaginary.
I held her gaze, a smile at the corner of my lips: — Tyrant? No. Guide. Even desert travelers look for stars to move forward. Leaving someone to get totally lost is handing them sand instead of water.
The amphitheater immediately vibrated: stifled laughter, low exclamations, furtive glances exchanged. Prince, seated right next to me, discreetly tapped the table with his fingertips, as if beating time to this grotesque duel that amused him terribly.
Yes, I was right. This girl has a real problem with me. We're not debating anymore. She wants my skin. All this... pathetic.
The professor finally raised his hand to calm the stirring echoes: — Good. Since your visions are so sharply divided, we will put this to the test. Karen, Baby, Wesley, Marian, Klay… and you too, Prince. You will prepare a joint presentation on this topic. You will hand it in at next Thursday's session.
A silence immediately fell. Karen clenched her jaw, her eyes flashing. I held back a smile. Perfect. She wanted a duel? She'll get a war.
The afternoon stretched on until we all found ourselves at the library.
We had agreed to work when we were free. The book stacks formed narrow corridors, punctuated by the discreet rustling of pages, and the hushed air did nothing to soothe the latent tension between us. I felt the cold wood of the table under my fingers, an almost cruel contrast to the heat rising in my temples. Around the large wooden table, everyone settled into their own little invisible territory: as if, after a whole year, we finally had to "rediscover" each other.
Marian was the first to break the silence. She carefully placed her notes in front of her, adjusted her glasses, and said in a calm voice: — Well, I suppose we should start by introducing ourselves. We were together in L1, but we never exchanged words. I am Berlay Marian, she said in a soft voice. — I will make an effort so that we can carry out this presentation successfully.
She bowed abruptly, as if in greeting, out of politeness. I noted the effort and was surprised to think she seemed sincere.
A respectful silence settled, which Karen broke with a candid look: — Very well, nice to meet you, Marian. I'm part of the BDE (I think everyone already knows me). I am Karen Hart, always ready to give my best, and I dare hope everyone will be able to adapt.
I felt my gaze narrow slightly. She had that little air that wanted to control everything, and I had to stifle an ironic smile.
Prince, sitting right across, sketched his usual, almost perfect smile, and added in a mocking voice: — Arith Prince. I'm quite… adaptable. I like to observe before giving my opinion.
His gaze met Karen's. I noticed her slight shiver, her almost imperceptible discomfort. For observation, you failed, Prince…
Klay, who had been playing with his keychain until then, finally looked up and spoke in a steady, but warmer voice: — Klay Maremti. Son of doctors, so raised to think and understand before acting. I don't seek to shine alone, I would simply like us to get along for this presentation.
Wesley, hands folded on the table, looked up at us, detached and calm: — Wesley Cay. I won't have much to say, except that I take studies very seriously and I would like this presentation to proceed properly, without offending anyone.
I saw Karen purse her lips, and I knew she was holding back from interrupting. Wesley sighed slightly before continuing, his gravity weighing on all of us: — Let's stick to the theme, share our ideas. The more focused we are, the faster we'll finish.
I took a breath, ready to introduce myself after this string of such distinct profiles. My fingers nervously tapped the table, but I forced myself to look up with confidence: — Baby Dang. Pleased to meet you all. I will give my all so that we can exchange easily.
Klay and the others nodded. I felt a slight, almost imperceptible shiver of satisfaction, seeing the silent reactions of the others.
A silence fell, punctuated only by the rustling of pages and the scratching of pens on paper. Everyone was analyzing the others, as if already trying to classify personalities before even starting work. The glances exchanged were sometimes furtive, sometimes heavy with unspoken meaning. Karen stared at me with an icy look, and I felt my heart quicken, not from fear but from amusement. Prince was still smiling, his enigmatic irony intact, and Klay observed calmly, peaceful but attentive. I noted every micro-expression, every breath, every hesitation.
The library suddenly seemed narrower, every smell of old paper and wood wax accentuating the pressure. Wesley leaned slightly over the table and concluded, with his relentless seriousness: — Very well. Now that we know each other a little, we'll need to organize our ideas. The subject won't wait, and I prefer that no one waste time.
I felt my shoulders relax slightly, ready to get down to business. The library seemed alive, animated by six distinct personalities, ready to clash or collaborate, depending on the moment.
The table was soon covered with open sheets, pens, and notebooks. Everyone tackled their part.
Marian, methodical, began: — Well, I propose we first define the main ideas, then everyone details their part. Otherwise, we'll go in circles.
— Excellent idea, Klay approved with a relaxed air. — I can draft an outline while you discuss the arguments.
Karen nodded politely, her candid face impeccable for everyone but me, and murmured: — Yes, the outline… that's essential.
I immediately felt her gaze piercing me, but I continued to scribble my notes. Prince, meanwhile, was amusing himself by sliding his pen between his fingers while smiling, as if he were mocking the table's seriousness. Yet, I knew he was noting everything.
— Seriously, Prince, I said, looking up, — are you going to participate or just be the clown?
— I am participating, but in my own way, he replied, shrugging, still smiling.
Wesley, unperturbed, intervened calmly:
— Let's focus. The outline is there, the ideas are there, no need to get distracted.
I glanced at Karen, who maintained her perfect mask. She shot furtive glances at Prince, who was distracted and didn't notice. I felt her anger bubbling behind that impassive face.
Klay sighed lightly and added: — We should also decide on an order for the interventions. That will avoid overlaps.
For four hours, we worked in studious silence.
I was starting to get tired, and it was already late. We would stop working in less than an hour. So, I got up from my chair to head to the restroom, my legs numb from sitting.
Barely inside, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. The hallway exuded an odor of cleaning product mixed with the cold scent of the tile. I frowned without turning around and closed the stall door. After finishing, I quickly opened the faucet. The jet of water splashed my icy fingers when I finally saw her: Karen.