Julien Poupard, AFC, discusses the creative process behind Pierre Salvadori’s "La Vénus électrique" ("The Electric Kiss")

A painter, devastated by the death of his wife, decides to consult a medium. He starts painting again, much to the delight of his gallery owner.
With Anaïs Demoustier (Suzanne), Gilles Lelouche (Armand), Pio Marmaï (Antoine), Vimala Pons (Céline), Gustave Kerven (Titus).

This is your third feature film with Pierre Salvadori. Did your rapport with him help you grasp the film’s world more quickly and come up with ideas on the spot ?

Julien Poupard : This is our third film together, and above all, it’s a joy to be working together again. That trust allows us to get straight to the heart of the matter. We may save time, but more importantly, we gain a sense of freedom. There’s this constant desire to surprise one another, to create together, and above all, to never rest on our laurels.

Did Pierre already have any movie or photo references in mind ?

JP : Early on, Pierre mentioned the idea of creating a visual language unique to the film. He specifically cited Steven Soderbergh’s series "The Knick", a period piece that remains deeply modern in its direction and cinematography. For him, the pitfall was clear : not to get carried away by the era. History must always take precedence. Form must never become merely decorative or nostalgic.
The preparation was built around this idea : how to capture an era without confining it to a visual formula. We talked a lot about painting, textures, and colors, but also about movement, energy, and rhythm.

Based on what criteria did you choose the camera equipment and lenses ?

JP : We began an initial round of test shots very early on in the house we’d chosen for filming, using a few costumes and set pieces. Very quickly, I started looking for modern “tools” to tell this story : the Zeiss Supreme lenses and the Alexa Mini LF seemed like the obvious choice.
The large sensor on the Alexa Mini LF was particularly well-suited for tight spaces, especially trailers. It allowed the camera to stay close to the actors without distorting their faces or making the space look cramped.
During tests, we tried out a whole lot of things : costumes, wallpaper, curtains, colors, textures… and especially kerosene lamps. Pierre was really set on lighting the film almost exclusively with kerosene lamps, a bit in the spirit of "The Knick".

We then color-graded these initial test shots using a fairly simple look, but the result was disappointing : the image remained flat, somewhat lacking in depth. That’s when a real dialogue began with Arthur Paux, the colorist. We started a sort of creative back-and-forth : Arthur would suggest a look, I’d take it, tweak it, and then he’d build on that new foundation. We were constantly “challenging” each other.
And then, at some point, the colors in Otto Dix’s paintings sort of “set us free.” We started working with the colors in his paintings : carmine reds, olive greens, dirty yellows—colors that were deliberately muted and weathered. From there, the film began to find its visual identity.

As for the kerosene lamps, reality quickly caught up with us. Their brightness fluctuated wildly during takes, and above all, the smell became very hard to bear in confined spaces like the trailers. So, together with Julien Gallois, the gaffer, we devised a hybrid system : real kerosene lamps near the actors to preserve the organic flicker of the flame, and for distant shots, modified lamps containing small LED lights.

The film’s image is very high-contrast, with a lot of brightness, yet they retain a real softness. How did you achieve that balance ?

JP : We wanted deep blacks, a high-contrast image, and ashy blacks with a lot of depth, but without ever coming across as harsh or metallic. We chose bold colors while keeping skin tones as neutral as possible.
We worked extensively with indirect light, reflections, fabrics, and soft haze to ensure that the light always remained enveloping. Even in high-contrast scenes, we wanted to preserve a skin-like sensuality and a softness in the faces.
And then there was the constant, daily work of grading the rushes to keep the highlights in check, making sure they never became too harsh.

Can you explain the effects of electricity on the body, on hair, or even the "electric kiss"

JP : The special effects were always a blend of practical effects and VFX, orchestrated by Cédric Fayolle. It was never entirely digital.
For example, for the copper balls in Anaïs’s hands, we drilled holes in them to insert tiny LED lights. This allowed us to recreate the pulsating glow of electricity directly on her hands and face.
We wanted the effects to appear as if they were physically generated within the set and on the bodies, not just in post-production.

How did you handle the scenes where the contact lenses blur Suzanne’s vision ?

JP : Pierre and I liked to tell ourselves that, through these lenses, the characters were unwittingly inventing abstract art. We did a tremendous amount of research with Lola Pion and Arthur Desnoyelles, the camera assistants. We tested Lensbabies, tilt-shift lenses, and very unconventional lenses… before finally settling on something almost childlike : a simple "clear” filter coated with Vaseline.
Next, we played with the density of the Vaseline to compose the image like a painting. We also had to heavily highlight certain colors so they would remain visible despite the diffusion. This is exactly the kind of creative touch I really love : something very simple technically, but which produces an extremely unique effect.

How did you go about the segmentation the film ?

JP : With Pierre, there’s always an initial “on-table” storyboarding phase. But the goal isn’t yet to break down the scenes precisely. It’s more about coming up with ideas.
This is an exciting moment when the screenplay begins to move beyond the written word and into the realm of cinematography. We’re talking about pacing, space, atmosphere, and the movement of bodies and the gaze.

Then, during shooting, Anaïs (script supervisor), Nicolas (assistant director), Matias (camera operator), Pierre, and I would meet very early every morning to go over the day’s storyboard. Pierre’s drawings served as our starting point. What’s fascinating is that he constantly redraws his own sketches right in front of us.
Ultimately, it’s not so much the sketch that guides us as the line itself. Its energy, its vitality, and its precision become a kind of emotional foundation for the scene.
From there, we work together to find a powerful idea. Then we build the framework around that idea. Only then do we place the actors within that space.

How did you handle the two time periods in the film ?
Pierre wanted to avoid drawing too sharp a distinction between the film’s different time periods, and I completely agreed with that approach. I really like the Bergsonian idea that the past is an integral part of the present. It’s not something linear, organized along a horizontal axis of past-present-future, but rather a vertical dimension that continues to exist within us.
The restaurant scene is a perfect example of this : different eras blend together almost unconsciously, as if memories, sensations, and the present were eventually intermingling.
We therefore avoided any overly heavy visual treatment to distinguish between the time periods. No differences in texture, color, or format. We wanted the eras to flow freely into one another, like memories.

There’s a palpable sense of visual richness in La Vénus électrique. Was the shoot very intense ? And very rich as well ?

JP : Yes, the shoot was very intense, as with all of Pierre’s films. He experiences his films in an extremely physical and emotional way. At the monitor, he doesn’t just watch the takes : he’s immersed in them. He mimes the lines, interacts with the actors, jumps for joy, or, conversely, slams the monitor in despair.

That energy is contagious to the entire crew. We sometimes felt like we were caught up in a kind of constant current, very vibrant, very fragile too.

I remember some very moving moments when, during certain takes, Pierre would take my hand without a word and squeeze it tightly when he was deeply moved by an actor. Proof that we really clicked…

(Interview conducted by Brigitte Barbier for the AFC)

La Vénus électrique
Production : Les Films Pelléas
Direction : Pierre Salvadori
Cinematographer : Julien Poupard, AFC
Set design : Angelo Zamparutti
Artistic direction and costume design : Virginie Montel
Sound engineer : François Morel
Editing : Anne-Sophie Bion
Original music : Camille Bazbaz