La Fille de l’eau was a tale without literary importance. Lestringuez and I had devised the scenario to display Cath­erine Hessling’s photogenic qualities, in which we were helped by the magic of the Forest of Fontainebleau. The plot was a secondary consideration, simply a pretext for purely visual imagery. We were doing battle with the attitude of the intellectuals, who give first priority to the theme and consider the content more im­portant than the container …

In the dream of La Fille de l’eau and later in La petite marchande d’allu­mettes (The Little Match-girl, 1928), I really let myself go: shots with the camera turning in reverse, characters suddenly appearing, Catherine riding a horse gal­loping through the clouds, and above all Catherine’s fall through the sky, which was particularly successful…

Devices of this kind delighted me, and they delighted the little troupe, partly composed of amateurs, which I had col­lected for the purpose of ‘renovating’ the French cinema. The cameramen, Gibory and Bachelet, and some of the techni­cians were professionals. Most of the ac­tors were my personal friends. My friend Pierre Champagne saw to the transport of the photographic equipment. His wife, Mimi, and Catherine made the costumes.

I went into the film business with very definite ideas. I did not believe in the importance of the subject matter. I rec­ognized the necessity for it, but denied it the privilege of influencing the course of the narrative. What mattered to me was a fine close-up. It so happened that if they were to accept a close-up, the public had to be given a story. I bowed to the necessity, but with reluctance. Needless to say, I was firmly opposed to the adap­tation of literary works for the screen…

I considered that the world, and es­pecially that of the cinema, was encum­bered with false gods. It was my task to overthrow them, and, sword in hand, I was ready to devote my life to it.

Jean Renoir, My Life and My Films, Atheneum: Wm Collins Sons & Co Ltd, New York 1974