At the age of 50, Laurent Lafitte has just left the Comédie-Française, where he had been a resident actor for 12 years, and is embarking on numerous film projects. On June 28, the actor and director will star in the new adaptation of The Count of Monte Cristo as Gérard de Villefort, the corrupt prosecutor. During the summer, he will be shooting Thierry Klifa’s La Femme la Plus Riche du Monde (“The Richest Woman in the World”). In this film, Lafitte will take on the role of François-Marie Banier, opposite Isabelle Huppert, who will play Liliane Bettencourt.
I wouldn’t be here today if…
…If I hadn’t believed in my dreams “the American way” − in other words, foolishly, at face value. “Believing in your dreams” is a bit of a catch-all phrase, but it’s actually quite important. Acting corresponds to a childhood desire, to the wish to have a different life, to a childish relationship with cinema. As a child, I didn’t really understand what it meant to be an actor: I just saw people in films having extraordinary adventures. If I had to give myself one quality, it would be perseverance. I never gave up on my childhood dreams.
Did you talk about these dreams with those around you?
I didn’t dare tell anyone; it was a secret desire. I didn’t come from a family of artists; my parents worked in real estate. Acting seemed so inaccessible that I was afraid people would laugh at me. As a teenager, I started talking about it to my friends, but not to my parents.
You’ve said that your childhood “resembled a Sempé drawing.” What did you mean by this?
I was referring to Sempé’s drawings of the big Haussmann city with tiny characters: I grew up in this slightly old-fashioned world, in a private school in the 16th arrondissement, wearing flannel pants and a blazer. It was very comfortable, and I was a lucky child with my brothers and sisters.
My father was rather a homebody, spending evenings reading. My parents hardly ever took me to the movies, except for Bambi and E.T., the first time cinema had had such an impact on me. From then on, it became an obsession. I discovered films mainly through TV. At home, Sunday night viewing was a sacred moment. We’d all sit on the sofa with the lights off, and no more talking. My father was fascinated by the elegance and charisma of American actors of the 1940s-1950s, and introduced me to Cary Grant and James Stewart. Later, when I was a teenager, I went to the movies alone several times a week. My bedroom was like a little museum of cinema, with a wall covered with Première magazine cards, posters and photos of films I’d bargain for at the local cinema I frequented.
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