Why did you decide to work on the notion of fragility, and why did you choose the Lebanese Chouf in particular for your research? 

Maria Harfouche: The Institut français of Deir El Qamar, based in the Chouf region, published a call for applications for artistic residencies. We are living in fragile times, both in Europe and in Lebanon, notably because of the pandemic, but also in the second case because of the political and economic situation. I wanted to raise this issue, and Simon wanted to explore the related notion of collapse in music. At the time, he told me a story about it. 

Simon Thierrée: It's an anecdote linked to the sinking of the Titanic, when the musicians on board decided to go down with the ship and put this moment of catastrophe into music. On the idea of fragility, I am also interested in the musical meaning of the adjective "fragile". If a score is marked tempo fragile, it might tell us the speed at which the piece should be played, but also probably the pulse, which would be inconstant, irregular. These notations give us indications of how a piece should be played: an allegro vivo is something rather joyful, and an allegro barbaro, as proposed by Béla Bartók (Hungarian composer and pianist, 1881-1945), something more brutal. 

For this project, you spoke to a dozen people living in the Chouf. What criteria did you choose for meeting them? 

Maria Harfouche: Zara Fournier, the deputy director of the Institut français of Deir el Qamar, accompanied us in our meetings with the inhabitants. She gave us many keys to discover this region. Personally, I wanted to meet members of the two communities, Druze and Christian, who live in the Chouf. I wanted to talk to both civilians and religious leaders. We got on well, which enabled us to carry out the interviews that make up the film. We asked the same questions to each person we interviewed. 

How did you go about composing the music? Did you collaborate with local musicians? 

Simon Thierrée: Before we came to Lebanon, we contacted the Saydet El Talle parish choir, which is based in Deir El Qamar, and the Fayha choir, from Tripoli, which has a pan-Arab and inter faith dimension, and which is apparently the only choir that sings written music in Arabic. Collaborations with these two choirs started right away, and we were able to rehearse in the premises of the Institut français. As for the composition, I created it on location because I could not predict the conditions and the material that would be available to us. We chose to start with a text, proposed and translated by Maria, which is the tale of Lot's wife, taken from the Old Testament, which I set to music. 

The figure of Lot's wife recurs often in "Tempo Fragile". You ask the people you interview about this. Why did you choose to focus on this? 

Maria Harfouche: When God asked the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah to leave their cities because he was going to destroy them, he forbade them to look back. This woman, who is known only by her husband's name - she is the "wife of Lot" - disobeys and is turned into a pillar of salt. 

Simon Thierrée: We liked the story because it was very open. It can be interpreted in many ways, and it allows us to draw parallels with the question of the status of women in a more global way. As this woman has no name, we were able to omit the fact that she was a character from the Bible in our translation into literary Arabic, so as not to distort the answers. Originally, we wanted the film's performers to produce a text themselves, but it proved difficult to get something that was not too religiously identifiable. However, the story of Lot's wife worked well and no one's beliefs were offended. 

Maria Harfouche: This story raises many questions. Why did she turn away? Why was she punished? The answers we received proved to be a good starting point to meet people, to better understand their vision and their life in society.   

Did a common thread gradually emerge from this series of interviews? 

Maria Harfouche: Yes, it is the idea that this woman showed fragility by turning around and that is why she was petrified. Many of the people we interviewed related this to the idea that life should be about movement, and that you should move forward no matter what. Those who stop are condemned to death: this reflects the state of perpetual resilience in which the Lebanese live. 

How did the residency, which took the form of a film in concert, progress?

Simon Thierrée: It was first a concert, with the local choirs, and then a screening of the film directed by Maria, which I accompanied live, partly with the Fayha choir.   

Maria Harfouche: It was also an opportunity to bring together the different communities from the city, who were present, as well as their religious dignitaries. 

Do you now feel you want to extend this experience? 

Maria Harfouche: Yes, absolutely. Next spring, we would like to meet these people again, this time through another tale that would link the past and the future. A bit like Lot's wife, who was turned into a statue on the frontier between the past and the future. The question of the relationship between Lebanon's past and its future reconstruction runs through my work as a director.