In ‘Marie Madeleine’, filmmaker and actor Géssica Généus takes an unusually intimate approach to storytelling, stepping into nearly every aspect of the production, from writing and directing to producing and portraying the film’s central character. Rooted in questions of identity, poverty, survival and the complexities of Haitian life, the film became as much a personal journey as a creative one. In this conversation with Shwayta Sharma, Géssica Généus reflects on the transformation that came with making ‘Marie Madeleine’, the challenge of inhabiting a character while directing her own performance, and the vulnerability of putting so much of herself on screen. She also discusses Haiti’s profound influence on her work and why, ultimately, honesty is the bridge she hopes will connect audiences across cultures. ‘Marie Madeleine’ premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival on Tuesday, September 15, 2026.

You’ve taken on so many roles with ‘Marie Madeleine’, from writing and directing to producing and acting. What drew you to be so deeply involved in every aspect of the film, and how did wearing all of those hats shape the film you ultimately made?

In my perception of things, very few of us have the chance to express ourselves fully, and that is true in every aspect of life. When one has the exceptional opportunity to do so, it has to be done fully, immersively. I don’t want to come out the same after I make a film. I’m craving a transformation. It was extremely painful to produce and direct this piece. The greatest joy was playing Marie. Watching people doubt you while you are finding your way… People needing reassurance while you are still trying to determine the best way to express a certainty that only you are experiencing at first. Feeling deeply alone, but also grateful for those who followed you into the darkness. They believed in your words and in the energy you created for them.

This is not your first experience behind the camera, but you also come from an acting background. How has your experience as an actor influenced the way you approach directing? What is the biggest challenge of having to step out of the director’s role and fully inhabit your character – and then step back behind the camera? How do you manage that transition?

Playing Marie was a joy I can’t fully express. I came to writing and directing because I wanted to play characters that resonated with me. I questioned whether I should take on the role. All kinds of voices in my head were telling me to stick to directing, that there was someone else out there who could play Marie, that it was about ego, that I was taking up too much space, etc. I was extremely intimidated by those thoughts until I realised that it was about much more than playing a character; it was about creating a timeline of a life that could have been mine.

When you grow up without economic security, prostitution doesn’t look like the worst option. Many of your interactions with men become transactional, and you may be pressured by your own family, who are counting on your physical advantages to lift them out of poverty. I know this too well.

What helped me enormously in working both in front of and behind the camera was the fact that I spent a year preparing with my director of photography, Nicolas Cannicioni, so that we were clear about what was needed. Our close collaboration gave me the confidence to do this for the first time.

What part of yourself do you recognize in Marie? Was there anything about the character or the story that surprised you once you actually began filming?

I was more surprised by the other characters, such as Joseph, Jacques and Melody, both by what the actors brought to them and by how the characters manifested themselves throughout the film. It was really beautiful to finally see them realised.

Haiti is an important part of your own identity and artistic work. How did your connection to Haiti influence the way you approached ‘Marie Madeleine’, particularly in telling this story for an international audience?

Haiti is this puzzle that I’ve been trying to solve for as long as I can remember. I have failed to solve it in most respects, but creating has given me a sense of control and reassurance. And it isn’t only me; artistic creation is incredibly prolific in Haiti. It shapes my perception of life in ways that you might never experience in a structured society. I don’t mean to glorify the chaos, but it is a fact. You constantly face death. It is so present that you are forced to try to make sense of it. It isn’t this very distant thing that you are shielded from most of the time. Denial is not an option.

The idea of an international audience is, for me, a myth, but believing it is a myth is also a trap. You have to find a balance between recognising that we are the same and being very clear about how drastically different our experiences of life can be. It is tricky to express that thin line in words.

When you’re telling a story that is deeply connected to a particular culture and history, how do you balance making it authentic to that world while also allowing audiences from different backgrounds to connect with it?

I focus on honesty and cross my fingers. I believe that when we are honest with ourselves, people can agree to meet us somewhere beyond society’s codes and constructs. I have no doubt about our capacity to transcend those boundaries. For all of this to work, one has to let go of any expectations about what the journey with the film will be. That’s what I do when I go to see a film, and that’s what I deeply wish for people to do when they see my work.

What was the most difficult scene to direct – emotionally or technically – and why?

Sometimes, an actor’s humanity can make you question where their character’s story should go. I would become caught between the actor I knew and the character they were playing, and be tempted to let that alter the trajectory that had been intended. That happened only once, during a scene with Jacques, Joseph’s father.

There is something very personal about putting yourself both in front of and behind the camera. Did you ever feel vulnerable while making this film?

At the premiere of the film, I was in a state of deep shock. I kept asking myself why I had done it. Why the hell would I give so much of myself, only to put it on display like that? What the hell was I thinking?

I had never had those thoughts before, but they came that day. Then I realised it was an illusion. Only I know how much of me is there but, more importantly, what is the “I”? How do I define it? Isn’t there freedom to be found in letting go of the fear of being seen?

Art gives us the greatest way of being naked and fully dressed at the same time. Art is the safest way to experience what being free really is: the violence, the beauty, and the little death, all happening at once. I’m grateful.