Isabelle Adjani: The Life Story Behind France's Intense Star

Isabelle Adjani was nineteen when L’Histoire d’Adèle H. made her famous, and the film is still the centre of her story, the role against which every other role is measured. She was born on 27 June 1955 in Paris, the daughter of Mohammed Chérif Adjani, an Algerian Kabyle, and Emma Augusta Schweinberger, a German Catholic, and she grew up in Gennevilliers, a suburb of Paris, in a family that was Algerian and German, Muslim and Catholic, and she learned early that identity is complicated, that a person can be more than one thing, and that the complication is the source of acting. She joined the Comédie-Française at seventeen, she made her film debut at fourteen, she played Adèle Hugo at nineteen, she was nominated for an Oscar, she won five Césars for Best Actress, a record, and she became, for forty years, the most intense actress in French cinema, a woman whose performances are famous for their passion, their madness, their beauty, and their refusal to be easy.

Paris, 1955: A Childhood in Gennevilliers

Isabelle Adjani was born in Paris in 1955, when France was a country of decolonisation, of the Algerian War, of a society that was changing, and when a girl who was Algerian and German, whose father was Kabyle and whose mother was German, could feel that she belonged nowhere, and that the nowhere is the beginning of acting. She grew up in Gennevilliers, a working-class suburb north-west of Paris, in a housing estate, in a family that was not rich, and she has described her childhood as difficult, with a father who was strict, with a mother who was loving, and with a sense that she was different, that she was watched, and that the watching is the source of her acting: Adjani plays women who are watched, who are judged, who are intense, and the intensity is not an act, it is a life. The Gennevilliers childhood matters, because it gave her a sense of being an outsider, a girl who is Algerian in France, German in France, and French in a suburb, and the outsider’s eye is visible in her performances, which often play women who do not belong, who are too much, too passionate, too mad, for the world around them.

The two cultures, Algerian and German, are the two halves of her identity. She speaks French, she is French, and she is also the daughter of an Algerian father and a German mother, and the combination is unique, and it is the foundation of her acting: she plays women who are divided, who are caught between two worlds, two men, two lives, and the division is the performance. The Paris birth is not a footnote; it is the foundation, and the Gennevilliers childhood is the other half, and the two halves together make an actress who can move between worlds, who can play Adèle Hugo in English and Camille Claudel in French, and who can do both with the same intensity.

The Comédie-Française and the Theatre

Adjani joined the Comédie-Française in 1972, at the age of seventeen, one of the youngest actresses ever to join France’s most prestigious theatre company, and the joining is the proof of her talent: the Comédie-Française does not take seventeen-year-olds unless they are extraordinary, and Adjani was extraordinary, a girl who could play classical French theatre, who could speak verse, who could hold a stage, and who did it with a intensity that the older actors recognised. The theatre years were a time of learning, of playing Molière, of playing Racine, of learning the discipline of the stage, and the discipline is the foundation of her film acting: she brings a theatrical intensity to the camera, a presence that fills the screen, and the filling is the performance.

The theatre also gave her a reputation as a serious actress, a woman who is not just beautiful, but trained, and the reputation is the reason directors trusted her with difficult roles, with Adèle Hugo, with Camille Claudel, with Queen Margot. She left the Comédie-Française after a few years, to work in film, and the leaving was a choice, a decision to be a film actress, not a theatre actress, and the decision is the story of her career: a woman who chose film, who chose the camera, and who made the camera her stage, and the stage is now the screen, and the screen is where she belongs.

Le Petit Bougnat, La Gifle and the Debut

Adjani made her film debut in 1970, at the age of fourteen, in Le Petit Bougnat, a comedy, in which she played a small role, and the debut was a beginning, a girl who could act, who could be natural on screen, and who was, even at fourteen, a presence. Her breakthrough came in 1974, in La Gifle, released in English as The Slap, directed by Claude Pinoteau, in which she played Isabelle, a teenage girl whose father, played by Lino Ventura, slaps her, and who runs away, and the film is a comedy and a drama, about a father and a daughter, and Adjani’s performance is at the centre of it: she plays Isabelle as a girl who is angry, who is funny, who is trying to grow up, and the performance earned her a César nomination, and it made her a star, a young woman whose face was known, whose name was known, and who was, at nineteen, already a serious actress.

La Gifle matters because it shows Adjani as a teenager who could carry a film, who could play a girl who is difficult, and who could do it without vanity, without asking the audience to like her, and the refusal is the performance. The film was a success in France, and it introduced Adjani to an audience that would follow her for forty years, an audience that saw a young woman who was beautiful, who was talented, and who was, in many ways, too much, too intense, for the roles she was given, and the too much is the point: Adjani’s intensity is her gift, and it is also her problem, because the industry does not always know what to do with a woman who is too much.

L’Histoire d’Adèle H.: The Oscar Nomination

The role that made Adjani famous around the world came in 1975, in L’Histoire d’Adèle H., released in English as The Story of Adèle H., directed by François Truffaut, in which she played Adèle Hugo, the daughter of Victor Hugo, a young woman who follows a British officer, Lieutenant Pinson, to Halifax, in Canada, and who loves him, obsessively, madly, and who is, in the end, destroyed by her love. The film is a portrait of obsession, of a woman who cannot let go, who writes letters, who follows, who begs, and Adjani’s performance is extraordinary, because she was nineteen, and she played a woman who is going mad, who is losing herself, and she played it with a intensity that is terrifying, and the audience believes her, because she does not act the madness, she lives it. The performance earned her an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress, at nineteen, one of the youngest nominees ever, and it made her an international star, a woman whose face was known in America, in England, in France, and whose talent was recognised by the world.

Adèle H. matters because it is a film about a woman who loves too much, and Adjani, who loves too much in her performances, is the perfect actress for it. The role proved that she was not just a beautiful teenager, but a real actress, a woman who could play madness, who could play obsession, and who could do it at nineteen, without training, without experience, with only instinct and talent. The film is now a classic, and Adjani’s face, with its wide eyes, its intensity, its beauty, is the face of Adèle, and the face is known around the world, and the Oscar nomination is the proof that the world saw it, and that the seeing was deserved.

Nosferatu and the Herzog Film

In 1979 Adjani appeared in Nosferatu the Vampyre, directed by Werner Herzog, in which she played Lucy Harker, the wife of Jonathan Harker, a woman who is pure, who is good, and who sacrifices herself to kill the vampire, Count Dracula, played by Klaus Kinski, and the film is a horror, it is beautiful, it is a remake of the 1922 classic, and Adjani’s Lucy is the heart of it: she plays her as a woman who is innocent, who is brave, and who is, in the end, a saint, a woman who dies to save her husband, and the performance is quiet, it is restrained, and it is powerful, because the audience sees a woman who is good, and who is destroyed by evil, and the destroying is the tragedy. The film was a success, and it showed that Adjani could work with a German director, in English, in a horror film, and hold her own, next to Klaus Kinski, a man who is himself a legend of intensity, and the holding is the proof of her talent.

The film matters for another reason, which is that it gave Adjani a reputation as an actress who could play a heroine, a woman who is pure, and who is also intense, and the combination is the paradox of her career: she plays women who are pure and mad, innocent and obsessed, and the two together are the character. Lucy is pure, Adèle is mad, and Adjani plays both, and plays both well, because she understands that purity and madness are not opposites, they are two sides of the same woman, a woman who feels too much, and who is destroyed by feeling too much.

Possession: The Cannes Best Actress

In 1981 Adjani starred in Possession, directed by Andrzej Żuławski, in which she played Anna, a woman who leaves her husband, played by Sam Neill, and who becomes involved in a strange, terrifying, supernatural affair, and the film is a horror, it is a drama about a marriage falling apart, about a woman who is going mad, and Adjani’s performance is legendary, because she plays Anna as a woman who is screaming, who is crying, who is in a subway tunnel, having a miscarriage, a scene that is one of the most famous in cinema, a woman who is out of control, and who is, at the same time, completely in control of her performance. The performance won her the Best Actress award at the Cannes Film Festival, and the film is now a cult classic, a film that is shocking, that is disturbing, and that is, for many critics, the greatest performance of Adjani’s career, because it shows her intensity at its peak, a woman who gives everything, who holds nothing back, and who is, for two hours, a force of nature.

Possession matters because it is the film in which Adjani’s intensity becomes the subject, a woman who is too much, who is mad, who is terrifying, and the audience, watching her, does not know whether to be afraid or to be moved, and the not knowing is the power. The subway scene, in which Anna has a breakdown, is a scene that actors study, because it is a woman who is losing control, and who is, at the same time, in complete control of her craft, and the control is the art: Adjani is not mad, she is playing madness, and the playing is so good that the audience believes it is real, and the believing is the achievement, and the achievement is the reason the film is remembered.

L’Été meurtrier and the First César

In 1983 Adjani starred in L’Été meurtrier, released in English as One Deadly Summer, directed by Jean Becker, in which she played Eliane, known as Elle, a young woman who returns to a village in Provence, and who seeks revenge for the rape of her mother, and who seduces, manipulates, and destroys the men around her, and the film is a thriller, it is a drama about revenge, about a woman who is beautiful, who is dangerous, and who is, in the end, mad, and Adjani’s performance won her the César for Best Actress, her first, and the film was a huge success in France, and it made her a star, a woman whose face was on magazine covers, whose name was known, and who was, at twenty-eight, one of the most famous actresses in France. The role is a long way from Adèle, and the distance is the point: Adjani could play a woman who is seeking revenge, who is seductive, who is mad, and she could do it with a intensity that made the audience believe her, even when the character is unlikeable, and the believing is the performance.

The César matters because it is the official recognition, the proof that the French film world took her seriously, not as a beautiful teenager, but as an actress, and the proof is the first of five Césars for Best Actress, a record that no other actress has matched, and the record is the legacy: Adjani is the most awarded Best Actress in César history, and the award is not a fluke, it is the result of forty years of work, of performances that are intense, that are brave, and that are, in the end, unforgettable.

Camille Claudel: The Sculptor

In 1988 Adjani starred in Camille Claudel, directed by Bruno Nuytten, in which she played Camille Claudel, a sculptor, a woman who was the lover and the student of Auguste Rodin, played by Gérard Depardieu, and who was, in the end, committed to an asylum, where she died, forgotten, and the film is a tragedy, a story about a woman who is a genius, who is not recognised, who is destroyed by a man, by society, and by her own madness, and Adjani’s performance won her the César for Best Actress, her second, and an Academy Award nomination, her second, and the film is now a classic, a portrait of a woman artist who is too much for her time, and who is played by an actress who is too much for her time, and the too much is the point. Adjani plays Camille as a woman who is passionate, who is talented, who is angry, and who is, in the end, mad, and the performance is extraordinary, because she makes the audience believe in Camille’s genius, in her love for Rodin, and in her destruction, and the believing is the tragedy.

Camille Claudel matters because it is a film about a woman artist, and Adjani, who is herself an artist, understands the subject from the inside: a woman who is talented, who is not recognised, who is used by a man, and who is destroyed, is a story that Adjani knows, and the knowing is the performance. The film was a major production, it was expensive, it was ambitious, and Adjani’s performance is at the centre of it, a woman who sculpts, who loves, who goes mad, and the audience watches her, and understands, and the understanding is the power of the film, and the reason it is remembered, as one of the best French films of its decade.

La Reine Margot: The Queen

In 1994 Adjani starred in La Reine Margot, released in English as Queen Margot, directed by Patrice Chéreau, in which she played Marguerite de Valois, known as Margot, the sister of King Charles IX, a woman who is married to Henri de Navarre, a Protestant, in a marriage that is political, and who is caught in the St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, a night in 1572 when thousands of Protestants were murdered in Paris, and the film is an epic, it is violent, it is erotic, it is about a woman who survives, and Adjani’s performance won her the César for Best Actress, her third, and the film won awards at Cannes, and it is now regarded as one of the best French historical films, a portrait of a woman who is intelligent, who is passionate, and who is, in the end, a survivor, and the surviving is the performance.

La Reine Margot matters because it shows Adjani as a queen, a woman of power, a woman who is in the centre of history, and who is played with a intensity that makes the history feel personal, that makes the massacre feel like a personal tragedy, and the personal is the point: Adjani does not play a queen, she plays a woman, a woman who is married, who is in love, who is afraid, and who survives, and the surviving is the achievement. The film was a major production, it was expensive, it was ambitious, and Adjani’s performance is at the centre of it, a woman who is beautiful, who is intelligent, and who is, in the end, alone, and the aloneness is the tragedy.

Diabolique, Skirt Day and the Later Films

In 1996 Adjani appeared in Diabolique, an American remake of the French classic, directed by Jeremiah Chechik, in which she played Mia, a woman who, with her lover, plots to murder her husband, and the film was not a success, but the role showed that Hollywood wanted her, that it saw her as a woman who could play a villain, a woman who is elegant, who is dangerous, and who is, in the end, a victim, and the seeing is the point, even when the film is not. She returned to France, to serious work, and in 2008 she starred in La Journée de la jupe, released in English as Skirt Day, directed by Jean-Paul Lilienfeld, in which she played Sonia Bergerac, a teacher in a difficult school in the suburbs of Paris, who, after a student brings a gun to class, takes her students hostage, and the film is a drama about education, about violence, about a woman who is at the end of her rope, and Adjani’s performance won her the César for Best Actress, her fifth, a record, and the film was a success, and it proved that Adjani, in her fifties, was still one of the finest actresses in France, still capable of a performance that is intense, that is brave, and that is unforgettable.

Skirt Day matters because it is a film about a teacher, a woman who is ordinary, who is tired, who is trying, and who becomes, for a day, a hostage-taker, and Adjani plays her as a woman, not as a monster, a woman who is afraid, who is angry, and who is, in the end, a person, and the person is the point. The fifth César is the record, and the record is the legacy: no other actress has won five Césars for Best Actress, and the five together are the proof of a career that has lasted forty years, and that is still, at seventy, going, because Adjani is still working, still acting, still intense, and the intensity is the reason the audience still watches her.

Family, Daniel Day-Lewis and the Private Life

Adjani has two sons: Barnabé, with the director Bruno Nuytten, and Gabriel-Kane, with the actor Daniel Day-Lewis, with whom she was in a relationship in the early 1990s, and she keeps her private life private, she does not share it on social media, she does not discuss her relationships in interviews, and she lets the work speak, and the choice is a statement: the actress is not the gossip, and the gossip is not the art. She has spoken about motherhood with a warmth that is genuine, about the joy of being a mother, about the way her sons have changed her view of her work, and about the importance of being present, and the honesty is refreshing, because an actress who is famous for her intensity, who is photographed, who is talked about, and who keeps her private life private, is a woman who knows the difference between being watched and being known, and who chooses to be known by her work.

She remains connected to her Algerian and German roots, and she has spoken about the importance of identity, about being the daughter of an Algerian father and a German mother, and about the pride she feels in her origins. Adjani is now in her seventies, she has a career that spans fifty years, she has five Césars, two Oscar nominations, a Cannes Best Actress award, and she has the freedom to choose her next work, and the choices she has made suggest that she will keep choosing work that is intense, that is brave, and that is hers, and the choosing is the point.

The Intensity, the Beauty and the Place in French Cinema

Adjani’s place in French cinema is secure, and it is a place that no one else occupies. She is Adèle, she is Camille, she is Margot, she is Sonia, and the four roles together are the portrait of an actress who is intense, who is beautiful, who is brave, and who is one of the finest of her generation. She has shown that a woman who is Algerian and German can become the most awarded actress in France, that a woman who is intense can become a star, and that the work, done patiently over decades, is the way. The face, with its wide eyes, its intensity, its beauty, is the face of Adèle, and the face is known around the world, and the acting, passionate, mad, unforgettable, is the reason the face matters, and the reason the audience remembers her.

The Legacy of Five Césars

The legacy of Adjani’s career is five Césars for Best Actress, a record, and two Oscar nominations, and a Cannes Best Actress award, and the awards together are the proof of her talent. The audience that watches L’Histoire d’Adèle H. now still believes in Adèle, still feels her obsession, still understands her madness, and the believing is the legacy, and it will last. The audience that watches Camille Claudel still remembers Camille, still feels her genius, still understands her destruction, and the remembering is the legacy, and it will last, because great performances do not fade, they grow, and Adjani’s performances have grown, year after year, into the classics they are.

My Take:

The first thing to say about Isabelle Adjani is that she is too much, and the too much is the gift. She plays women who love too much, who feel too much, who are too passionate, too mad, for the world around them, and the too much is not a flaw, it is the talent. Adèle Hugo loves too much, Camille Claudel feels too much, Anna in Possession is too much, and Adjani plays the too much without apologising, without smoothing it out, and the refusal is the performance. The audience watches her, and does not know whether to be afraid or to be moved, and the not knowing is the power, because a woman who is too much is a woman who is real, and the realness is the point.

The second thing is the eyes, and how they work. Adjani’s eyes are large, they are dark, they are expressive, and they are the instrument that makes her performances work, because she can say more with a look than most actresses can say with a speech. In L’Histoire d’Adèle H. the eyes tell the audience that Adèle is obsessed, that she is mad, that she is in love, and the audience reads the eyes, and understands, without a word being spoken. In Possession the eyes tell the audience that Anna is terrified, that she is out of control, and the audience reads the eyes, and believes. The eyes are the gift, and Adjani uses them well, and the using is the art: she does not overact, she lets the eyes do the work, and the work is devastating.

The third thing is the Oscar nomination at nineteen, and what it meant. Adjani was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress for L’Histoire d’Adèle H., at nineteen, one of the youngest nominees ever, and the nomination was a recognition that the world saw her talent, that a French actress, playing a French woman, in a French film, could be recognised by Hollywood. The nomination matters because it came so early, because it set a standard, and because Adjani spent the next forty years living up to it, by winning five Césars, by winning at Cannes, by being nominated for a second Oscar, and the living up is the career, and the career is the proof that the nomination was not a fluke, but a prophecy.

The fourth thing is Possession, and the subway scene. Adjani plays Anna, a woman who is having a breakdown in a subway tunnel, screaming, crying, having a miscarriage, and the scene is one of the most famous in cinema, a woman who is out of control, and who is, at the same time, completely in control of her performance. The scene is studied by actors, because it is a woman who is losing control, and who is, at the same time, in complete control of her craft, and the control is the art: Adjani is not mad, she is playing madness, and the playing is so good that the audience believes it is real, and the believing is the achievement. The Cannes Best Actress award was the recognition, but the scene is the thing, and it remains one of the greatest scenes in film.

The fifth thing is the five Césars, and the record. Adjani has won five César Awards for Best Actress, more than any other actress, for L’Été meurtrier, Camille Claudel, La Reine Margot, Skirt Day, and one more, and the five together are the proof of a career that has lasted forty years, and that is still going. The record matters because it is official, it is the French film world’s way of saying that Adjani is the best, and the saying is deserved, because the performances are the best, because they are intense, brave, and unforgettable. The record is not a fluke; it is the result of work, of choosing difficult roles, of giving everything, and the giving is the point.

The sixth thing is Camille Claudel, and the woman artist. Adjani plays Camille, a sculptor, a woman who is a genius, who is not recognised, who is used by Rodin, and who is destroyed, and she plays her with a passion, a talent, and an anger that make the audience believe in Camille’s genius, in her love, and in her destruction. The film is about a woman artist, and Adjani, who is herself an artist, understands the subject from the inside: a woman who is talented, who is not recognised, who is destroyed, is a story that Adjani knows, and the knowing is the performance. The Oscar nomination for Camille was the second, and the second is the proof that the first was not a fluke, that Adjani is a great actress, and that the greatness is recognised around the world.

The seventh thing is the Algerian and German identity, and how it shapes the work. Adjani is the daughter of an Algerian Kabyle father and a German Catholic mother, and she grew up in Gennevilliers, in a suburb, in a family that was not rich, and the identity is the foundation of her acting: she plays women who are divided, who are caught between two worlds, who do not belong, and the not belonging is the performance. The identity matters, because it gives her a sense of being an outsider, a girl who is Algerian in France, German in France, and French in a suburb, and the outsider’s eye is visible in her performances, which often play women who are too much for the world around them, and who are destroyed by it.

The eighth thing is the privacy, and the reclusiveness. Adjani is famous for being private, for rarely giving interviews, for disappearing for years, and for returning with a performance that reminds the audience why she is great. The privacy is a choice, and it is a healthy choice, because an actress who is intense, who gives everything on screen, needs a private life to recover, to live, to be a mother, and Adjani has kept that life, and the keeping is the reason she has lasted. The audience respects the privacy, or should, because it means that when Adjani appears on screen, the audience sees the character, not the celebrity, and that is a rarer and more valuable thing than it used to be.

The ninth thing is La Reine Margot, and the queen. Adjani plays Marguerite de Valois, a woman who is married for politics, who is caught in a massacre, and who survives, and she plays her as a woman, not as a queen, a woman who is intelligent, who is passionate, who is afraid, and who survives, and the surviving is the performance. The film is an epic, it is violent, it is erotic, and Adjani’s Margot is the centre of it, a woman who is beautiful, who is strong, and who is, in the end, alone, and the aloneness is the tragedy. The César for Margot was the third, and the third is the proof that Adjani could play a historical figure, a queen, and make her a person, and the person is the point.

The tenth thing is Skirt Day, and the fifth César. Adjani plays Sonia Bergerac, a teacher in a difficult school, who takes her students hostage, and she plays her as a woman who is ordinary, who is tired, who is trying, and who becomes, for a day, a hostage-taker, and the performance won her the fifth César, a record, and the film proved that Adjani, in her fifties, was still one of the finest actresses in France, still capable of a performance that is intense, brave, and unforgettable. The role is a long way from Adèle, and the distance is the point: Adjani, at fifty-three, was playing a teacher, a woman who is not a queen, not a sculptor, not a madwoman, but a woman who is trying to do her job, and the trying is the performance.

The eleventh thing is the voice, and how it carries the performance. Adjani’s voice is soft, it is clear, it is French, and it can be passionate and quiet in the same scene. In L’Histoire d’Adèle H. the voice is obsessive, it is the voice of a woman who cannot let go, and in Camille Claudel the voice is angry, it is the voice of a woman who is not recognised, and each voice is different, and each voice is hers. The voice is the instrument, and Adjani plays it well, and the audience hears the difference between the two women even before it sees them, which is a kind of acting that the camera cannot fake.

The twelfth thing is the body, and how Adjani uses it. She is a beautiful woman, and her body has been photographed, and her best work uses her beauty as a problem rather than as a gift. In Possession her beauty is a source of terror, in Camille Claudel it is a source of genius, in La Reine Margot it is a source of power, and in Skirt Day it is almost irrelevant, because Sonia’s beauty does not help her, and Adjani plays the irrelevance with a dignity that is real. The body is not the performance; the performance is what she does with the body, and what she does is to make it human, to make it complicated, and to refuse to let it be simple.

The thirteenth thing is the range, and how wide it is. Adèle and Sonia have nothing in common: one is a nineteen-year-old who is obsessed with a British officer, the other is a fifty-three-year-old teacher who takes her students hostage, and the same actress played both, and played both well. The range is not a trick; it is a discipline, the discipline of a woman who joined the Comédie-Française at seventeen, who learned classical theatre, and who never lets one role bleed into the next. The audience that watches L’Histoire d’Adèle H. and then watches Skirt Day is watching two different women, and the fact that they are the same actress is the point. Adjani’s range is the range of a serious artist, and it is rare.

The fourteenth thing is the age, and the maturity. Adjani was nineteen when Adèle H. came out, and she is now in her seventies, and the performances have grown with her: Adèle was a young woman, Camille was a woman in her thirties, Margot was a queen, Sonia was a teacher in her fifties, and each role shows a different age, a different maturity, and the maturity is the actress’s, not just the character’s. The later work is better because the actress is older, because she has lived more, because she has learned more, and the learning shows. The audience that watches Skirt Day is watching a mature actress, a woman who has spent forty years learning her craft, and the craft is visible in every scene.

The fifteenth thing is the future, and what it might hold. Adjani is in her seventies, she has five Césars, two Oscar nominations, a Cannes award, and she has the freedom to choose, and the choices she has made suggest that she will keep choosing work that is intense, that is brave, and that is hers. The audience should expect more films, more of the intensity, more of the eyes that tell a story without speaking, and the expectation is a happy one, because Adjani has earned it. The girl from Gennevilliers who played Adèle became the most awarded actress in France, and the becoming is not over.

The sixteenth thing is the influence, and how it is already visible. Young French actresses cite Adjani as an influence, young women see that a woman who is intense can become a star, can win five Césars, and the seeing is the influence. The influence is not a matter of copying; it is a matter of permission, of Adjani giving other artists permission to be too much, to be intense, to be themselves. The permission is the gift, and it is a gift that will last longer than any single film, because it changes what other artists believe is possible.

The seventeenth thing, and the last, is the lesson. Adjani’s career says that a girl from Gennevilliers can become the most awarded actress in France, that a woman who is too much can become a star, and that the work, done patiently over decades, is the way. She joined the Comédie-Française at seventeen, she played Adèle at nineteen, she played Camille, she played Margot, she played Sonia, and she never stopped, and the never stopping is the point. The lesson is not that talent will always be recognised, but that the work, done with intensity and with honesty, is its own reward, and that the reward, when it comes, is deserved. Adjani’s reward has come, in the form of five Césars, of a global audience, of a career that is hers, and the audience that watches her now knows that it is watching a great actress, and that the greatness was earned, in Gennevilliers, in Paris, and in every film where she gave everything and held nothing back.

Frequently Asked Questions

What was Isabelle Adjani’s breakthrough role?

She played Adèle Hugo in L’Histoire d’Adèle H., directed by François Truffaut in 1975, a young woman who obsessively follows a British officer to Canada. She was nineteen and earned an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress.

How many César Awards for Best Actress has Isabelle Adjani won?

She has won five César Awards for Best Actress, a record, for L’Été meurtrier, Camille Claudel, La Reine Margot, Skirt Day, and one more, making her the most awarded Best Actress in César history.

What role did Isabelle Adjani play in Possession?

She played Anna, a woman whose marriage falls apart and who becomes involved in a terrifying supernatural affair, in Andrzej Żuławski’s film Possession from 1981, winning Best Actress at Cannes, including the famous subway breakdown scene.

Who did Isabelle Adjani play in Camille Claudel?

She played Camille Claudel, the sculptor who was the lover and student of Auguste Rodin and who was committed to an asylum, in Bruno Nuytten’s film from 1988, earning a César and an Oscar nomination.

Where was Isabelle Adjani born?

She was born on 27 June 1955 in Paris, the daughter of Mohammed Chérif Adjani, an Algerian Kabyle, and Emma Augusta Schweinberger, a German Catholic, and she grew up in Gennevilliers, a suburb of Paris.

What film won Isabelle Adjani her fifth César?

La Journée de la jupe (Skirt Day) from 2008, in which she played Sonia Bergerac, a teacher in a difficult suburban school who takes her students hostage, won her a record fifth César for Best Actress.