The chronicle is not incompatible with fiction. It’s not a documentary. It’s about grasping the everyday elements of these boys’ destinies which add intensity and humanity to them.

That’s a bit extreme! These are kids in difficulty, who find solutions that one could certainly challenge. But they are also real projects: one goes to school, more or less; another dreams of becoming a rap singer; another a boxer; and yet another a ship captain. And then there’s the fifth member of the band who does odd jobs around the shantytown. The challenge is to get to a point where you can see the sources of this thieving, like the resignation of the parents, or their bleak future.

If there’s no one there to tell them which path is the right one, things are going to deteriorate. These are not criminals, they are juvenile delinquents; but as they grow up, they could well take the plunge and become real criminals. The film sets up warnings, as with a vigil. I provide an opportunity to look. Their only horizon is the shantytown. Their sole escape valve is to go to the sea; that’s why the sea is filmed like a postcard, a breath of fresh air in a shabby universe. Even so, despite their situation, they keep the faith and struggle to get themselves out of there.

It’s stealing from the poor to give to the rich! It’s a very urban activity, designed for people who have given up on acting for themselves. The dream is carefully packaged, with the flamboyant colors of the sales booths, the attractive sales clerks . . .

Not that much, but you can’t forget that they have come out of this world: they are playing themselves.

We had a two-month casting call, with announcements on national radio and television. All the high school kids showed up—it was draining but very rich, we came to realize that they too had things to say. Those who were selected came back two or three days later with a piece of rap text and music which corresponded completely to the story. That was reassuring because I could say to myself, OK, there’s a communion here. Next, we worked on scenes from the script with them for a month and a half with a home video camera, as a result of which they quickly forgot the camera and just focused on their acting. Once they knew the dialogue well, we could focus on their reactions and everything else.

Well. We got to a point where there was truly no need to give him any instructions. He knows Libreville well, is from Gabon, there was a real connection! And it wasn’t just the music: on the soundtrack, each moment, each setting has its own character. Whether we’re downtown or in the shantytown—morning, noon, or night—there are precise colors, those of an African city.

Yes, according to the program begun by Charles Mensah, the CEO of the Gabon Cinema Centre, with the series "Salvation Hostel," then with the co-productions of The Grand Blanc de Lambaréné by Bassek ba Kobhio and Le Damier by Balufu Bakupa-Kanyinda, as well as strictly national productions. There is a desire to re-energize cinema, which has been absent since 1978, and is rather dynamic and original for its time.

The thought never crossed my mind that I would install myself permanently in France. What’s important to me is to have real partners with whom I can set up co-productions. For the moment my subject remains Gabon, Africa. While in France, I had the impression of being in a state of displacement, and at the same time I was afraid of not being true with respect to Gabon . . .

Within the sole context of Gabon, it’s perhaps not sustainable, but we created it with the idea of also working outside the country, elsewhere in the region, elsewhere in Africa, or in Europe. The goal is to create professional products that are competitive on a national and international level.

We didn’t win the Palme d’Or, but the film was fortunate in receiving an award, which will move the financial decision-makers in our direction. Having the stamp of Cannes on the poster will also help those viewers who might hesitate to go see a film from Africa.