Inside Willy Vanderperre’s ‘Naked Heartland’

For me, it’s not only sad. It’s about acceptance and loss. Saying goodbye to your childhood, losing your innocence. But yes, it is disturbing. Being young is disturbing. Growing up is disturbing. I am from the south part of Belgium, a little border town, on the border to France. When I grew up Europe still had borders. My town, Menen, was a weird place. It was bleak and dark, but at the same time it was poetic. There was a strip with non-shops, like butchers (my father was one of them), bakeries, and florists. There was a lot of violence. Gangs would drive with cars into shops to mug them. You would not go out on a Friday or Saturday night. After eight, you would lock yourself in at home. The shops would barricade their windows. It was quite intense to grow up there. Also, it was a religious region. I was brought up Catholic and I had to go to church every Sunday. But ironically enough, I came to terms with my sexuality at a very young age. I was 12, 13, and I never had problems with that. But I had problems expressing myself. I was a loner. Not weak, but a loner. This film portrays similar youngsters in a similar environment.

Since I was a teen, so since the 1980s. First time I picked up the camera, I was 17.

For me, it’s not the youth that I am fascinated by, it’s the breaking point: coming-of-age, puberty, adolescence. That’s when you start to explore. That’s when you start questioning everything you’ve learned. That’s when you have your first sexual experience. It might be joyful, but it can also be very depressing. Coming-of-age is a violent time. Losing your virginity and your innocence is a violent mode.

No. That’s the thing, it’s exactly the same. The basics never change: All want to be loved, all want to belong. All are insecure loners in their own world—this is the base of my film. It zooms in when you are about to graduate and about to lose your bonds. When you are in school, you see the same people every day for years. It’s a special connection and relationship. Then you finish school, and you lose your bond—a brutal rupture that is mostly followed by your first identity crisis.

I think we have more than just one identity. Identity grows and changes.

I am a person, as you, somewhere in the middle of his life, reflecting, exploring. I am quiet and sensitive. But I can be very rational and pragmatic as well. I am always going for the emotion. I think everything has to be about emotion. I am very stubborn. And shy.

Yes.

Being content with yourself. Feeling at ease in your body. Happiness comes when you wake up and you don’t regret too much.

Introspection. This film is a result of my introspection. I am now working on finding a balance between my personal desires and society's expectations.

I am in a good place, yes. I love living in Antwerp. In the fashion industry, everything seems greater and bigger. Antwerp is a calm city, it keeps me grounded.

You have to give it a place. Just place it. And sometimes it’s even good to explore that fear.

Every day. Don’t we all want to?

I wonder how it would feel to turn my back against society. It’s a route that hasn’t been very much explored yet. If you do it, you become an outcast. But what if you turn your back on society to create a new society? A parallel system.

I always refused to say yes. But maybe I am. But what does it mean? Nobody taught us what becoming an adult means.

That’s the thing, isn’t it—we always wait, and we are never really sure what we are waiting for. I address these phrases, that intercut the movie, to the viewer. They trigger universal emotions.

The universe. I think at the end of the day we speak to ourselves. The girl in my film for example is videotaping herself as a sort of diary. But also as a sort of mirror. So her actions are addressed to herself. When you are a teenager you easily feel misunderstood. To express yourself can be really difficult.

That’s the most human need. We all want to belong to something or someone.

No.

Of course. In a God.