“I used a line of Ingeborg Bachmann’s as a prefix for my film DIE BLEIERNE ZEIT (English title MARIANNE AND JULIANE, also known as THE GERMAN SISTERS): “Grieving, whatever else it may be, becomes a lonely business.” And in L’AFRICANA (English title THE AFRICAN WOMAN), my second film, which I shot in Italy, Samy Frey quotes from her poem “Explain love to me…”. Perhaps a kind of premonition that I should one day focus on Ingeborg Bachmann in a film dedicated to her. So when my producers suggested making a film about her, it seemed like a continuation of that unforgettable encounter. About her and her life with Max Frisch. But also going beyond that. Naturally it’s very difficult to do justice to such a versatile, complicated, even enigmatic woman and artist in a film. That’s why I restrict myself to just six years of her life. The four years she spent with Max Frisch and the two years afterwards, when she suffered from their separation and was only able to “heal” herself briefly by means of a journey to the desert with a younger man. In my view, Ingeborg Bachmann’s time with Max Frisch was an attempt on her part to live with commitment and freedom simultaneously. She was a confident woman, very aware of her significance, but she also knew that in the 50s and 60s it was difficult for women to assert themselves or even be taken seriously. She was taken seriously – and deeply admired by many people, including her fellow-writers – and at first she imagined that Max Frisch was strong enough to accept her, along with her “dark moments”. Two writers: Can they help each other, or are they incapable of avoiding rivalry, despite all the good intentions? I have attempted to interweave the two narrative strands: one involving commitment, being bound to a man, and the other based on freedom, not being tied down. In this way two different movements in life arise which come to permeate one another. The film begins with a dark scene at night: Ingeborg Bachmann has a nightmare where she is humiliated by Max Frisch. And it ends with a scene of dazzling brightness, as she leaves the desert, where she experienced a brief period of healing. These are the two extremes which appear in several variations during the film. From apparent happiness to unhappiness, from depression and weakness to regained delight at life itself. The light will also change again and again, along with the places where Ingeborg Bachmann lives. And each of them also depicts an inner stage in her life. Paris, Zurich, Rome, Berlin. The two of them meet in Paris, where the story begins. L’heure bleue, the blue hour, generally considered the hour of lovers in Paris. Also featured in a poem by Apollinaire about the agony of lost love. They both know the poem – but Ingeborg Bachmann knows it better: she can quote each line, while Max Frisch only knows two. A very early indication of what they will experience together. Again and again there will be these concealed clues: the people involved will not always recognize them, but the attentive viewer will be able to decode them. In Rome (Ingeborg Bachmann’s favorite city, where she lived before she met Max Frisch), she will stroll through the sun-drenched streets, relax in cafés; she will meet her great colleague, the poet Ungaretti; it will become apparent how deeply bound to the city she feels… In Zürich, his city, she feels alien, as if she were imprisoned, and consequently she can no longer write. When they move to Rome together it’s the other way round, and he feels that way. He can’t speak the language, he doesn’t know many people, and he often feels that she abandons him… Berlin, the city where she lived for a while after she and Max Frisch separated, represents sickness and sadness for her. From here a young man will take her with him to the desert, where she can overcome her melancholy. And again light will have a major role to play.”

What’s your personal connection to Ingeborg Bachmann and Max Frisch?

Ingeborg Bachmann has long been one of my favourite authors.  As a young woman, I even wrote poems myself – but I never showed them to anyone, and I soon stopped. Later, I frequently referenced Bachmann in my films, long before I knew I would ever address her life and work directly in this way. The motto I chose for my film Marianne & Juliane was the Bachmann quote “Among the various deeds, mourning becomes the loneliest business” and in my film L’africana, which I shot in Italy, Samy Frey quotes from Bachmann’s poem “Explain to Me, Love”. In contrast, Max Frisch was someone I had to read at school. The first of his plays I saw was The Arsonists. It was the premiere of this play that Frisch invited Bachmann to attend in Paris.

The idea of making a film about Ingeborg Bachmann was suggested to you by the producers at tellfilm and AMOUR FOU. But it was your decision to focus on her relationship with Max Frisch. Why did this interest you? What story did you want to tell?

The producers let me choose for myself which period of Bachmann’s life I wanted to focus on. I opted for the four years she spent with Max Frisch because I was personally very interested in exploring a relationship between two writers and how they got along with one another (or sometimes didn’t). 

You once met Bachmann in person: in Rome in 1972. Did that encounter influence the way you portrayed her in the film?

It’s true: Volker Schlöndorff and I met her at Hans Werner Henze’s house around a year before her death. At that time she was probably already quite debilitated. In any case, she was very reserved, and most of the conversation took place between the men.

You have made several films centring around female historical figures: Rosa Luxemburg, Hildegard von Bingen and Hannah Arendt. Now, for the first time, your main character is an artist. Do you have a particular affinity for Ingeborg Bachmann? Do you see something of yourself in the character you depict in this film?

For every character that I depict in my films, I try to find a “correspondence” in the Baudelairean sense. But, unlike the other historical figures, Bachmann wasn’t initially so alien to me. Age-wise, she could have been my elder sister.

How did you work out what the story was going to be? What kind of research did you do? How much did historical accuracy matter to you?

I think it’s normal for a screenwriter to start out by reading as much as possible and assimilating large amounts of material. Also, we tend to speak to people who knew the person in question. That’s why I always need a long preparation period to get inside the person or people I want to portray. But it’s only ever my personal perception; I would never claim to be able to gain a complete picture of who somebody is or was, with all their inherent complexities and contradictions.

The story is told cleverly and sensitively via flashbacks: while travelling with Adolf Opel, Bachmann thinks back to her relationship with Frisch. What made you choose that structure?

Telling stories in flashbacks enables you to only describe those moments you consider important and pertinent. It also allowed me to have two separate timelines: the time when Bachmann is journeying across the desert, feeling weak and ill; in the end, she feels a sense of release. And then there is the storyline with Frisch running counter to that: it begins euphorically and ends sadly. 

During shooting, the film had the working title “Bachmann & Frisch”. Why did you finally decide on the title Ingeborg Bachmann – Journey into the Desert?

BACHMANN & FRISCH does describe the four years the two lived together, in that respect it is not wrong, but it is a little striking. The current title fits the film as I realised it: The focus is on Ingeborg Bachmann and her struggle for independence.

You cast Vicky Krieps in the title role and Ronald Zehrfeld as Max Frisch. The viewer may have some reservations about these casting choices when they begin watching the movie, but by the end, they can’t imagine anyone else in those roles. What is it about Vicky Krieps and Ronald Zehrfeld that made them the perfect choice? 

I knew I wanted those two principal actors from the beginning. I had seen Vicky Krieps in Phantom Thread, and I think that Ronald Zehrfeld is one of the most sensitive actors in Germany, despite his imposing physique. I did try to find a Swiss actor to play Frisch, but no one was as convincing as Ronald. When it came to the role of Bachmann, I needed an actor who was able to quickly go from being very serious to delivering a dazzling smile. I had seen that several times in documentary footage of Bachmann. For example, she made this very negative comment about men, and the journalist who was interviewing her was obviously shocked. But then she flashes her radiant smile and says, “Didn’t you know that?” And only Vicky Krieps could deliver that smile the way I wanted it.

What was it like working with the young actor Tobias Resch as Adolf Opel, who is playing his first major role with you?

It was pure luck to have found this young actor. He not only corresponds to the young Adolf Opel, as he describes himself in his memoirs, but also makes Ingeborg Bachmann, i.e. Vicky Krieps, "glow" through his presence, through his acting.

Because this is an international co-production, you had to work with lots of new faces in the film crew. How did it influence your approach? What was it like shooting a film with so many artists behind the camera that you didn’t yet know?

I was rather daunted because I hadn’t yet worked with a single person on the crew and I didn’t know what to expect. Thankfully, I had been able to pick out who I wanted, but only from the countries that were co-financing the project. To my great relief and joy, it all worked out very well. Perhaps that’s the kind of challenge one should take on more often. 

You spent 40 days shooting in six different countries – all during the Covid-19 pandemic! Wasn’t that extremely tiring?

Yes, it was. But I love challenges, so during the shoot, I actually began feeling stronger and healthier.

What does Ingeborg Bachmann mean to you? Were you familiar with her and her work before you began tackling Ingeborg Bachmann – Journey into the Desert?

As far as I’m concerned, Ingeborg Bachmann is one of the greatest poets of all time. Yes, of course, I was familiar with her work, but apart from her correspondence with Paul Celan, I didn’t know anything about her private life. It was horrifying to learn how much she suffered in order to be free and how her belief in love was crushed.

What attracted you to the project? Why did you want to be a part of it?

Simone Bär sent me the screenplay and I was really surprised by it. It was very good; it was fresh and young. And it had something to say – something that I also felt inside myself. And so I wrote a personal letter to Margarethe telling her about this connection I felt with the screenplay and how much I would like to work with her.

Was it easy for you to slip into that role? How did you prepare for it? How important did you feel it was to deliver an accurate portrayal of Ingeborg Bachmann?

I don’t really like this concept of “slipping into” a role. For outsiders, it seems like the interesting part of my work, but it’s actually the boring bit: it’s just homework. If I were to ask you how much fun you had doing homework as a schoolkid, I doubt you’d tell me it was a blast. What comes afterwards is what matters. Whether I can be brave enough to follow the material blindly, through the gloom, whether I am daring enough not to think about all that homework, to walk into the unknown – to just watch and listen. When you’re acting, the only thing that counts is being in the moment. Working with the director, the lighting, the camera, sound, costume, props and colleagues – all of that is real and present, all of it is trying to enter into a dialogue with me. And so I have to be still and quiet and not think about my homework.

What was it like working with Ronald Zehrfeld? What makes him exciting as an actor?

More than anything else, Ronald was one thing for me: unexpected. And that’s precisely what matters. Because that’s what makes me really want to get to know someone. I had always imagined Max Frisch as a weaker character, much more uptight and restrained. But from the first day we sat down around the table with Simone Bär and Alexandra Montag, I could see that it was going to work. Margarethe had this vision from the beginning, and I would say she was proved right! From that point on, it was a total pleasure and so straightforward to “work” with Ronald – or, as I like to say, to “dance” with him.

What was it like working with Margarethe von Trotta? How would you describe her as a director? What sets her apart?

Margarethe and I are two women who are moved by the same things, and during our work together on this project, we were able to communicate very well across the generations. It was incredibly exciting. And fulfilling. It was fascinating to see how certain topics remain relevant down the years. Particularly with regard to this topic – women’s liberation – it was interesting to see women pulling together, as all too often we forget that we are not alone. That was a gift. Everything about this project was a gift!

The film was shot in six different countries during the Covid-19 pandemic and you had a very demanding role to play. What are your abiding memories of the shoot?

Travelling, going to all those countries, was another gift. We were able to travel to all the places where everything happened. And I believe that makes a big difference – analogue experiences are more authentic. Interacting physically with a location is always different from simply imagining it. We did also work in the studio, but I found the real locations much more significant. In the studio there’s a bigger risk of sliding back into that “homework” situation.