Directors of The Way We Move Vanessa Joo Dumont & Nicolas Davenel interview

In The Way We Move, the heart of the story lies in the translation of music into sign language—a physical and emotional act. How did you work cinematographically to make sound and rhythm “visible”?

The core of our work was to film the protagonists’ bodies as precisely as possible, and then fully shape that material in the edit. The way they express themselves through their entire body, face, hands, posture, is fascinating. There’s a moment with Julian on Skrillex that captures this perfectly, how they translate not just emotion an rhythm, but also the texture and layers of a track.

We always worked with two cameras to ensure we never lost their hands in frame, cutting the hands would mean cutting their voice. It also allowed us to maintain a visual continuity between emotion, close ups on faces or parts of the body, and meaning.

Sound was equally essential. We developed it very carefully with Yohann Henry the sound engineer, both during recording, using specific microphones placed in the space and directly on the performers, and in post production. The idea was to create an immersive experience, and to bring hearing audiences closer to vibration, to another way of perceiving music.

The documentary follows Amber Galloway and her journey with the new performers, Julian and Angela, toward Austin City Limits. What was the biggest challenge in documenting this passing of the torch, and how did you manage to capture the intimacy and pressure that come with learning such a complex art form in a high-stakes setting like a major music festival?

The biggest challenge was not to miss any key steps in their journey. We filmed in fragments over time, so we could follow them as long as possible, and between each shoot there were real evolutions, new milestones, one of them even became a parent. The intention was to stay grounded in real time, as much as possible, while shaping a strong, tense arc, from Amber recognizing their potential to their first time on stage at a major festival.

It was important for us to capture not only their technical progression, but above all their emotional journey, the moment they realize, this is what I want to do, I have to fully commit. Intertwining these two dimensions allowed us to experience very powerful moments with them.

The trust they gave us, especially when they opened the doors to their families, was the greatest gift they could offer.

You come from a strong background in music videos and major brands (such as Nike and Cartier), known for a highly polished and rhythmic aesthetic. How did this background influence the way you chose to tell such a human and social story?

Yes, we are quite versatile :) Our desire to make documentaries was actually one of the reasons we came together as a directing duo a few years ago. It’s a way for us to balance our work, but also to find our place in the world, moving from more polished and visual projects into a different kind of storytelling, with a completely different sense of time and subject, and true human stories.

Because the relationship between image and music is one of our most essential tools, and one of our strongest emotional languages, this subject immediately resonated with us. It raised very simple but powerful questions, how do we perceive music, how can we shift perspective as hearing people, how can we rediscover music through another language.

The scene between Julian and J-Tay, as they prepare for the Tyler, the Creator concert, captures this shift. The way they translate the deeper meaning of each lyric into visual metaphors in ASL, while layering in the musicality, is incredibly precise and powerful. It opens the door to a completely different way of understanding and feeling music.

It was a profound learning experience for us, and it has inevitably influenced the way we approach our own work. Hopefully, it can also shift something for those who watch the film.

our documentary ‘The Big Jump’ (Le Grand Saut), presented at Cannes in 2019, explored the extreme tension faced by high-dive jumpers and the relationship between the body and the void. What was the experience like at Cannes, where the film was presented? Is there a connection between the physical challenge faced by the diver and that of the ASL interpreter?

The experience at Cannes was incredible. It’s such an iconic festival, the kind of moment you don’t know if you’ll ever experience again, so you try to take it all in and hold on to it. It was also one of the first times we watched one of our films with both an audience and with the people who are actually part of the documentary. That position is something we deeply admire and respect, it requires a level of vulnerability from the protagonists that is completely raw.

Having those shared screenings, as we did again at SXSW with Amber and the protagonists, is an intense emotional rollercoaster, something truly unique. When a film is received by an audience that moves in sync with the emotions of the characters, it answers, in a way, why we make films, why we tell stories, to connect with the world around us, to feel how powerful that emotional connection can be, across any experience. It’s one of the most powerful human experiences.

The connection between the diver and the ASL interpreter lies in a different but equally essential form of risk. In both cases, there is a form of emotional, and sometimes literal, survival at stake, a willingness to take a leap in order to feel fully alive.

Can you tell us a little about your upcoming projects?

We are currently writing our first feature film, an adaptation of a novel. It takes place in a landscape we deeply love and know well, the French countryside. The story follows a young girl discovering her sexual identity while searching for freedom, and confronting the gaze of those around her.

The countryside is often portrayed in a very limited way, reduced to social struggle or cultural isolation. We want to offer a different perspective, something more nuanced and alive. In the same way that Skins brought a raw, magnetic energy to British working class youth, we want to reveal the richness of a generation growing up away from major urban centers, without filters, neither idealized nor diminished.

At the same time, we continue to develop commercial work, music videos, and documentary projects.