Behind the Scenes: Sandra Hüller

The first thing the actor and icon Sandra Hüller says to me is: ‘Oh, what a lovely necklace.’ It is 10:30 am on 5 July 2024, and it is the best conversation starter I could have wished for. The piece in question is a replica of a replica: the 20-quid eBay version of Vetements’ take on the legendary Titanic necklace, Heart of the Ocean. ‘I do have a bit of a sinking feeling,’ I immediately reply, and we both laugh at the absurdity, because why would I have a sinking feeling – unless, perhaps, it was heralding another episode of stress-induced exhaustion. My actual beating heart melts faster in those seconds than an ice sculpture at a summer buffet. She has me wrapped around her little finger instantly, and that is fine by me, because, as you might have already guessed, I am a fan.

To go with the large, ocean-blue heart pendant with its rhinestone border, I wear long, pointed blue glitter nails and blue mascara – a detail that does not go unnoticed in our conversation. Sandra Hüller proves again and again that she has a keen eye. It is a cliché as tired as it is true that artists need sharp observational skills to succeed in their profession, but it still puzzles me at times. Often, it leads to the relentless and profitable reproduction of stereotypes and clichés, until eventually, their dangerous dullness is mistaken for normality and fosters harmful attitudes. When they are not as elegantly kitsch and camp as the Titanic necklace, the artistic repetition of observations can manifest as prejudices and the humiliations that often accompany them. Yet Hüller manages to play her roles in a way that is never simplistic or easily reduced to a crude, one-dimensional caricature.

I am not an actor, but I am a director, so I have some level of understanding of her profession. I imagine it is a delicate balance between fulfilling someone else’s imposed vision and bringing one’s own artistry, creativity, and dedication to the role. A delicate balance is nothing more than a tightrope walk, and one that brings with it a considerable risk of falling. When I think of balance, an ominous voice rings through my mind, reminding me that my work-life balance is a disaster and that I must urgently optimise it. Another task to fulfil, another expectation to meet, just brilliant. When I ask Sandra Hüller what comes to mind when she hears that term, our thoughts align, and she immediately conjures a vivid image: the description of a children’s game – the attempt to keep a seesaw in balance. Of course, I too have tried that on playgrounds. ‘It’s probably just like that; a process of trial and error that requires several people,’ she concludes.

How fitting: film, like theatre, is the labour of an incredible number of people and not the genius of a single individual. Hüller adds that it is only in retrospect that one can determine whether life was in a balanced state. In the present moment, it is nearly impossible to say. I immediately agree. One of my coping strategies is to look forward, rarely back. When I do turn around metaphorically, I notice a self-exploitative attitude that is anything but elegant and caring. Usually, this loss of balance manifests physically. When her characters demand a lot from her, she needs a break afterwards, Hüller explains. For me, it is essentially the same. After finishing a novel, I slowly lose my characters – I dream of them, think of them, see them as personified copies on the street. Gradually, they fade away; I usually let them go when the book is published, because I believe the book no longer belongs to me, but to the readers. When Hüller sees the film for the first time on screen, one or two years after filming, the characters are also gone. ‘It’s good when things come to an end,’ says Hüller, and we both chuckle, a trace of relief settling over our conversation. To stay with a physical metaphor: after a long period of peak performance – Hüller likens it to a marathon – you need to cool down.

When I ask her about her method for choosing roles, she says she does not have one. ‘Sometimes I just feel like doing something that doesn’t exhaust me so much. Sometimes I am intrigued by a question that I might not get an answer to, but that I feel I want to explore for a while. Sometimes you play something familiar just to get rid of it. That can be quite cathartic. Sometimes it’s something you want but can’t get from anyone else,’ says Hüller. ‘There has to be some form of connection, and if it is not there, then I create it. There has to be something that links me to the material.’ To her, the act of performing is a laboratory, not an attempt at imitation or duplication. The character to be played is a research subject from which you can learn more about your own personal experience. ‘What would have to happen to me for me to act that way, and to make my actions appear credible even to myself?’ Hüller asks, explaining everything I wanted to know. To achieve such a transfer of experience, what is written must pass through one’s own system, be transformed, filtered, and shown outwardly.

Hüller loves art. My first publisher, Jörg Sundermeier, once passionately and with a moderate level of anger declared, ‘Art is sacred!’ when I submitted a somewhat half-hearted text. For years, I only had an inkling of what he meant. Slowly, with ongoing attempts to undermine it, budget cuts leading to significantly less funding, and a more aggressive elbow mentality, I am beginning to grasp it. At a certain level, art requires an enormous amount of press and marketing to create demand. Interviews, campaigns, gossip, and, above all, endless anecdotes to make the glamorous world of high art seem approachable and easier to sell. As an actor, how much of the artistic process is really in your control?

There have been more articles written about Sandra Hüller than perhaps any other German actor in recent years. She is now a global star, yet she still manages to distance herself from it all. When I jokingly offer to write funny on-set anecdotes for her to tell the press, we both laugh, though our thoughts immediately turn to looming defamation lawsuits. In that moment, Hüller and I meet as two artists who share the belief that art is about telling the truth, observing, questioning yourself, and understanding what you truly want. ‘The more honest we are with the things we tell, the ones that mean something to us,’ she says, just before I, unfortunately, interrupt her out of excitement. As a writer, there is nothing more rewarding for me than to touch others through my words. As a director, it is to entertain them, but in a way that also makes them feel something, even if it hurts. I fail to ask Sandra Hüller what the most rewarding thing is for her. But I comfort myself with the thought that this will not be our last conversation. I can hardly wait.

CREDITS

Photography: Kirsten Becken
Styling: Saskia Jung
Creative Direction: Amelie Kahl 
Production: Jule Nötzel
Hair & Makeup : Christina Baier 
Photo Assistant: Kimberly Jüschke
Styling Assistant : Tania Aquaro 
Words: Jovana Reisinger