Matías Piñeiro discusses You Burn Me, Departing Shakespeare, and the perpetual reinvention of Hong Sangsoo.

      “Focus the text,” instructs a translation app pop-up in the middle of Matías Piñeiro’s innovative essay film, You Burn Me. This mantra resonates deeply with the Argentinian director. Using the chapter "Sea Foam" from Cesare Pavese’s Dialogues with Leucò as inspiration, Piñeiro crafts audiovisual conversations among characters (Sappho and Britomartis), among actresses (María Villar and Gabriela Saidón), and between the filmmaker and the text itself. As relevant sections and mnemonic exercises unfold, repeat, and are recontextualized, the exhilarating essence of Godard’s Goodbye to Language comes to mind. This is a bold, playful, and revitalizing piece—a tribute to both verbal and visual language.

      Following a warmly received North American premiere at last year’s New York Film Festival, You Burn Me opens in the U.S. this week with a limited theatrical release from Cinema Guild. I first viewed the film last June when it premiered in the U.K. at London’s Institute of Contemporary Art. Revisiting You Burn Me now, I notice aspects that I previously overlooked, and I find myself engaging with it through different perspectives, reflections, and points of interest. Watching You Burn Me is a highly interactive experience that echoes the film’s primary themes, its text, its process, and its form. Speaking with Piñeiro over Zoom, we delve deeper into that text.

      The Film Stage: I’d like to begin by discussing how You Burn Me varies from your earlier works. You have created several films centered on Shakespeare. Recently, your co-director on Sycorax, Lois Patiño, moved on to create Ariel, while you ventured in a different direction. What inspired your shift away from Shakespeare toward new explorations?

      Matías Piñeiro: I was initially part of the Ariel project and thought it might be my last Shakespeare film. Due to scheduling conflicts and life circumstances, I stepped back from the project, and suddenly my Shakespeare cycle—a span of ten to twelve years—came to an end. It wasn't a conscious declaration of completing the cycle; rather, I had to withdraw, and the cycle concluded. It was an intriguing situation for me.

      In the meantime, another text emerged—the one by Cesare Pavese. Initially, I resisted diving into it because I found the book very dense and struggled to finish it. However, during a second attempt, I discovered the dialogue between Sappho and Britomart: Sea Foam.

      There's a concept in this text that I hope is reflected in the film—Pavese, a literary figure who ended his life, projecting himself onto Sappho's character. He wrote not only Sappho's verses related to themes of death and desire, but also lines for Britomart, who represents acceptance of life and conflict—coping with existence. I found it significant that within the text, both energies coexist rather than just one. This is why, in the film, it was crucial to avoid merely glorifying Pavese; instead, I aimed to challenge the romantic myth of the troubled artist.

      I do believe the Shakespeare cycle needed to conclude. I typically create films because I respond to literary texts, feeling they deserve to be elevated. Those texts often present resistance. It wasn’t a given that I would tackle Shakespearean comedies, but highlighting those works that were deemed minor was intriguing. With Pavese, the complexity of the text posed a challenge regarding how to engage with it. Where is the pleasure found in this text? Where lies enjoyment amidst this resistance? What can be shared?

      Why choose an essay film format instead of something more conventional?

      In 2020, during the pandemic, I practiced a more essayistic approach with my filmmaker friend Mariano Llinás. We were invited to create a video correspondence. That experience opened a door that I continued to explore in You Burn Me.

      I'm not merely adapting the text but also integrating the concept of footnotes. The book is laden with footnotes that enliven and expand the main text. I pondered, “Why not incorporate this information if it strengthens my connection to the text? What would a footnote look like in cinematic terms?” This led me to delve deeply into these ideas over several months. It’s not an entirely conscious decision; suddenly an interest arises, accompanied by unresolved questions. Thus, the insistence to explore emerges. That’s the essence of my process.

      Matías Piñeiro

      What do you think deconstructing and reconstructing a text can offer to us as artists, audiences, and human beings?

      Perhaps it’s about recognizing that knowledge brings pleasure, reminiscent of a Rossellinian perspective. For me, cinema serves as a medium to share and multiply materials—to invert and vary them. We revisit texts and see them in new ways. Initially, I realized I hadn’t read Shakespeare's plays comprehensively; I encountered them in high school and perhaps