Jaco Van Dormael: The Life Story Behind Belgium's Dreamlike Director

Jaco Van Dormael makes films that feel like dreams. His stories do not follow the straight road. They bend, they branch, and they ask what life would be like if one small choice had gone the other way. A man remembers his childhood, and the memory becomes a film. A boy with Down syndrome leaves his home, and the journey becomes a lesson in joy. A man at the end of his life remembers all the lives he might have lived, and the film holds them all at once. That is the cinema of Jaco Van Dormael, and there is nothing else quite like it in Belgium or anywhere else.

He was born in Brussels, he studied film there, and he stayed there. He did not move to Hollywood, and he did not chase the kind of films that make easy money. He made a small number of films, slowly, over many years, and each one was a world of its own. Toto le héros, The Eighth Day, Mr. Nobody, and The Brand New Testament are four very different films, but they share a way of seeing: tender, strange, funny, and full of wonder at ordinary life.

His story is the story of a patient artist. He waits years between films, he works with the same people, and he refuses to hurry. In a world that wants everything fast, he works slowly, and the slowness shows in the films. They are careful, they are beautiful, and they stay with you long after you have seen them.

A Brussels Childhood and a Love of Stories

Jaco Van Dormael was born on 9 February 1957 in Ixelles, a part of Brussels. He grew up in a city of two languages, French and Dutch, and in a home where art and music mattered. His brother Pierre became a musician and composer, and the two brothers shared a love of performance and of sound. The Van Dormael home was a place where creativity was normal, not strange, and that gave Jaco the confidence to imagine a life in film.

As a boy, he was drawn to the circus and to the theatre. He loved clowns, acrobats, and the small, strange worlds that performers create under a tent. That love never left him. His films are full of circus feeling: a sense of wonder, a love of the body in motion, and a belief that life is stranger and more beautiful than it looks. He learned early that a story does not have to be realistic to be true. It has to be honest, and it has to touch the heart.

Brussels in the 1960s and 1970s was a city of rain, of grey skies, and of quiet streets, but it was also a city of imagination. Jaco learned to see the magic in ordinary places: a stairwell, a kitchen, a street corner. That way of seeing became the heart of his cinema. His films often begin in an ordinary place, and then they open up, like a door into a dream. The ordinary and the wonderful live side by side in his work, just as they did in his childhood.

School gave him an education, but his real education came from watching, listening, and imagining. He learned to pay attention to small things: the way a person walks, the way light falls on a wall, the way a child looks at the world. Those small things became the building blocks of his films, and they are the reason his films feel so alive.

Learning Film and the First Shorts

As a young man, Van Dormael studied film at INSAS, the well-known film school in Brussels. There he learned the craft: how to write, how to shoot, how to edit, and how to work with actors. But he also learned something more important: how to trust his own way of seeing. Film school can teach a student to copy other directors. Van Dormael learned to find his own voice, and that voice was poetic, playful, and deeply human.

Before he made feature films, he worked in theatre and in the circus world, and he made short films. Those early works were small, but they showed his talent. He liked stories about memory, about childhood, and about people who do not fit into the ordinary world. He worked with actors who had disabilities, and he treated them as artists, not as symbols. That respect for people who are different became a central part of his cinema.

He also worked closely with his brother Pierre, who composed music for his films. The brothers understood each other, and Pierre’s music gave Jaco’s images a warmth and a rhythm that made them feel complete. When Pierre died in 2008, it was a great loss, and Jaco’s later films carry that loss in their quieter, more thoughtful moments.

The years of learning were long, and Van Dormael did not rush to make a feature film. He waited until he had a story he truly believed in, and until he knew how to tell it. That patience is rare, and it is one of the reasons his first feature film, when it finally came, was so strong.

Toto le Héros and the Cannes Prize

In 1991, Van Dormael released his first feature film, Toto le héros, known in English as Toto the Hero. The film tells the story of an old man who believes that, as a baby, he was switched with another child, and that his whole life has been lived in the wrong place. It is a story about memory, about regret, and about the dream of a different life. The film moves between the old man’s present and his childhood, and it does so with a lightness and a humour that make a sad story feel full of life.

Toto le héros was shown at the Cannes Film Festival, where it won the Camera d’Or, the prize for the best first film. That was a remarkable achievement for a Belgian director making his first feature. Cannes is the most important film festival in the world, and the Camera d’Or told everyone that a new and original filmmaker had arrived. Critics praised the film’s imagination, its tenderness, and its refusal to be ordinary.

The film also introduced the themes that would run through all of Van Dormael’s work: childhood, memory, chance, and the idea that a life could have gone another way. Thomas, the hero of the film, is not a great man. He is an ordinary man with an extraordinary inner life, and Van Dormael treats him with love. That love for ordinary people, and for their secret dreams, is the heart of his cinema.

After Toto le héros, Van Dormael was no longer an unknown. He was a director the world was watching. But he did not hurry to make another film. He waited, he thought, and he searched for the next story that deserved to be told.

The Eighth Day and a Triumph of Kindness

In 1996, Van Dormael released his second feature film, Le Huitième Jour, known in English as The Eighth Day. The film tells the story of Harry, a busy businessman, and Georges, a young man with Down syndrome who has run away from the institution where he lives. The two meet by chance, and their journey together changes them both. Harry learns to slow down, to feel, and to live. Georges teaches him that joy, honesty, and love are more important than work and success.

The film was a great success. At the Cannes Film Festival, the two lead actors, Daniel Auteuil and Pascal Duquenne, shared the Best Actor prize. That was a historic moment, because Duquenne, who has Down syndrome, was recognised as an equal artist. Van Dormael had cast him not out of pity, but because he believed Duquenne was the right actor for the role. The prize proved him right, and it changed the way many people thought about actors with disabilities.

The Eighth Day was also a popular success, seen by millions of people in France and Belgium. Audiences loved its warmth, its humour, and its message that every person has value. The film does not treat Georges as a problem to be solved. It treats him as a teacher, a friend, and a full human being. That was a radical thing to do in 1996, and it is still radical today.

For Van Dormael, the film was a statement of his beliefs. He believes that people who are different are not less. They see the world in their own way, and the world is better for it. That belief runs through all his work, and The Eighth Day is its clearest expression.

Mr. Nobody and the Lives We Might Live

After The Eighth Day, Van Dormael waited more than a decade before his next feature film. He worked on other projects, he thought, and he prepared a film that was bigger and more ambitious than anything he had done before. In 2009, he released Mr. Nobody, a film about Nemo Nobody, the last mortal man on Earth in the year 2092, who remembers all the lives he might have lived.

Mr. Nobody is a film about choice. As a boy, Nemo must choose between his mother and his father, and from that one choice, many lives branch out. In one life, he marries one woman. In another, he marries someone else. In one, he is rich. In another, he is poor. The film shows all of these lives, and it asks a deep question: does the choice matter, or does every life hold its own joy and sorrow? It is a big, beautiful, and sometimes confusing film, and it is unlike anything else in modern cinema.

The film starred Jared Leto, and it was made with a large budget for a Belgian film. It premiered at the Venice Film Festival, and it won awards there. But it was not an easy film to sell, and it took years to reach audiences in different countries. Some people found it too long or too strange. Others called it a masterpiece. That division is normal for Van Dormael’s work. He does not make films for everyone. He makes films for people who are willing to dream with him.

Mr. Nobody shows Van Dormael at his most ambitious. It is a film about time, about love, and about the mystery of being alive. It is also a film about a man who, at the end of his life, looks back and sees not one life, but many. That idea, that we contain many lives inside us, is the heart of the film, and it is a beautiful idea.

The Brand New Testament and God in Brussels

In 2015, Van Dormael released his fourth feature film, Le Tout Nouveau Testament, known in English as The Brand New Testament. The film begins with a wild idea: God lives in Brussels, in a small flat, and he is a cruel and selfish man who spends his time making human life miserable. His daughter, Ea, runs away from home, and she decides to write a brand new testament, choosing six new apostles and telling every person on Earth the date of their death.

The film is a comedy, but it is also a serious film about freedom, about kindness, and about what it means to be human. It is funny, it is strange, and it is full of beautiful images. It was a great success in France and Belgium, and it was shown at film festivals around the world. Audiences loved its boldness, and critics praised its imagination.

The Brand New Testament shows a different side of Van Dormael: the playful side, the side that loves to joke about big ideas. But the joke has a serious heart. The film says that the world is not ruled by a cruel God, but by people, and that people can choose to be kind. When Ea tells each person the date of their death, they stop wasting their lives, and they start to live. That is a hopeful message, and it is one that Van Dormael has carried through all his films.

The film also shows his love of Brussels. God lives in Brussels, in an ordinary flat, and the city becomes a place where heaven and earth meet. Van Dormael has always loved his city, and he films it with affection. In his films, Brussels is not a dull capital. It is a place where anything can happen, even God living next door.

A Patient Artist and a Lasting Legacy

Jaco Van Dormael has made only four feature films in more than thirty years, and that small number is part of his story. He does not make a film every year. He waits, he thinks, and he makes a film only when he has something to say. In a world that rewards speed, his slowness is a form of courage. He would rather make one true film than ten hurried ones, and his four films prove that the choice was right.

He has also worked in theatre and in opera, and he has made short films and documentaries. But his feature films are the heart of his work, and they are the reason his name is known around the world. He has won prizes at Cannes and Venice, and his films have been shown in many countries. He is one of Belgium’s most respected directors, and he is loved by audiences who value imagination and heart.

His legacy is not only in his films. It is in the way he changed how cinema treats people with disabilities, in the way he showed that a small country can make great films, and in the way he proved that a film can be both strange and kind. Young directors in Belgium look up to him, and they learn from his patience and his courage.

He still lives in Brussels, and he still works. He does not rush, and he does not explain himself. He makes films when he is ready, and the world waits. That waiting is a compliment. It means that people trust him, and that they know his next film, whenever it comes, will be worth the wait.

Theatre, Opera and Other Work

Jaco Van Dormael has not only made feature films. He has also worked in the theatre, and he has helped to create stage pieces that mix dance, film, and storytelling. One of his best-known stage works is Kiss and Cry, a piece he created with the choreographer Michèle Anne De Mey. The show uses miniature sets, cameras, and live dance to tell a love story, and it has toured around the world. It shows Van Dormael’s gift for images in a new form: not on a cinema screen, but on a stage, with the audience watching the film being made in front of them.

Kiss and Cry is a small and beautiful work, and it is very different from a big film like Mr. Nobody. But it shares the same heart: a love of stories, a love of images, and a belief that a small moment can hold a whole life. The show’s success proved that Van Dormael’s imagination works in any form, and that he is not only a film director. He is a storyteller, and he will use whatever tools are in front of him to tell a story well.

He has also made short films and documentaries, and he has worked on projects that do not fit neatly into one category. That freedom is part of his art. He does not care whether a work is called a film, a play, or an installation. He cares whether it is true, whether it is beautiful, and whether it touches the people who see it. That is a rare and valuable attitude, and it is why his work is so varied and so interesting.

The theatre work also shows his love of collaboration. He works with dancers, with musicians, and with actors, and he listens to them. He does not work alone, and he does not pretend to know everything. He builds his films and his stage pieces with other artists, and the work is better for it. That generosity, that willingness to share the creative work, is one of the reasons his films feel so warm and so human.

His Way of Working

Van Dormael works slowly, and he works with the same people again and again. He does not rush a film, and he does not change his team for fashion. He writes, he thinks, and he waits until the story is ready. That patience is unusual in the film business, where directors are often pushed to make a film every year. Van Dormael refuses that pressure, and his films are better for it. Each one feels complete, as if it has been thought about for a long time, because it has.

He also works closely with his actors, and he gives them time to find their characters. Pascal Duquenne, who played Georges in The Eighth Day, was not a professional actor when Van Dormael cast him. Van Dormael trusted him, worked with him, and gave him the space to be himself on screen. That trust produced a performance that won a prize at Cannes, and it changed the way many people thought about actors with Down syndrome. It was not charity. It was good directing, and it came from patience and respect.

His visual style is also part of his way of working. He loves beautiful images, and he works with cinematographers who understand light and colour. His films are full of striking pictures: a staircase that goes nowhere, a city seen from above, a face in close-up. But the images are never only for show. They always serve the story, and they always serve the characters. That is the mark of a great director: beauty with a purpose, and never beauty for its own sake.

He lives and works in Brussels, and the city is part of his method. He films there, he thinks there, and he draws on its quiet streets and its grey skies. Brussels is not a glamorous film city, but Van Dormael has made it into one, by showing its magic. His way of working is slow, patient, and rooted in one place, and it has produced some of the most original films in modern cinema.

My Take:

When I watch a Jaco Van Dormael film in my mind, the first thing I feel is wonder. His films do not look like other films. They look like dreams that someone has filmed with great care, and they make me see the world differently. After watching Toto le héros, I look at an old man on the street and I wonder what his childhood was like. After watching The Eighth Day, I look at people who are different and I see them more clearly. That is what great cinema does. It does not only entertain you for two hours. It changes the way you see, and Van Dormael’s films do that better than almost anyone.

I admire his patience most of all. Four feature films in more than thirty years is not a lot, and in the film business, many people would call that a failure. I call it a triumph. He refused to hurry, and he refused to make films he did not believe in. That takes a kind of strength that is rare. Most directors are afraid of being forgotten, so they make a film every year, even when they have nothing to say. Van Dormael was not afraid. He trusted that his films would be remembered, and he was right. Toto le héros is still watched today, more than thirty years after it was made. The Eighth Day is still loved. Mr. Nobody is still discussed. That is what patience gives you: work that lasts.

What moves me about The Eighth Day is the way it treats Georges. Pascal Duquenne, who has Down syndrome, is not a symbol in the film. He is a person, with joy, with anger, with humour, and with love. Van Dormael gave him the space to be a real actor, and Duquenne used that space beautifully. When the two actors shared the Best Actor prize at Cannes, it was not charity. It was justice. It said that talent is talent, wherever it comes from, and that a person with Down syndrome can be a great actor. I think that prize changed cinema, even if only a little, and I am grateful to Van Dormael for making it possible.

I think about his brother Pierre, too. The two brothers worked together, and Pierre’s music gave Jaco’s films their warmth. When Pierre died in 2008, Jaco lost more than a collaborator. He lost a brother who understood his imagination. I feel sad when I think about that, because a partnership like that is rare. But I also think the music in Mr. Nobody and in The Brand New Testament carries Pierre’s spirit, even though he was gone. Art can keep a person close, even after death, and I think Jaco’s films do that for his brother.

Mr. Nobody is a film I have thought about for a long time. It asks a question that I think about in my own life: what if I had chosen differently? What if I had taken another road, married another person, lived in another city? The film says that every choice leads to a life, and every life has its own joy and its own pain. That is both frightening and comforting. It is frightening because it means we cannot know if we chose well. It is comforting because it means that no single choice ruins a life. There is good in every path, if we look for it. I think that is a wise and kind message, and I admire Van Dormael for putting it into a film.

The Brand New Testament is my favourite of his films for a different reason. It is funny, and it is bold. The idea that God lives in Brussels and is a cruel man is a joke, but it is a joke with a serious heart. The film says that the world is not fixed by heaven. It is fixed by people, by kindness, by the choices we make every day. When Ea tells people the date of their death, they stop wasting time, and they start to live. I love that idea. It tells me that we do not need to know the future to live well. We only need to remember that our time is limited, and to use it with love. That is a lesson I carry with me.

I also admire the way Van Dormael films Brussels. He does not make the city look grand or fashionable. He makes it look like home: grey skies, small flats, ordinary streets, and then, suddenly, magic. A staircase becomes a dream. A kitchen becomes a world. That is how I see my own home, too. It is ordinary, and it is full of magic, if I pay attention. Van Dormael teaches me to pay attention, and I am grateful for that lesson.

There is a sadness in his story, too, and it is the sadness of slowness. He makes so few films that the world sometimes forgets him between them. That is unfair, but it is also his choice, and I respect the choice. I would rather have four great films than twenty forgettable ones. But I do feel sad that many people have never seen his work, because they only watch what is new and loud. His films are quiet and strange, and they ask the viewer to be patient. Not everyone is willing to be patient, and that means some people will miss something beautiful. I hope this article helps a few of them find his films.

I think about the circus in his childhood, and how it shaped him. A circus is a place where the impossible becomes possible, where a person can fly, where a clown can make you laugh and cry at the same time. Van Dormael’s films have that circus feeling. They are not realistic, but they are true. They tell the truth about love, about loss, and about the strange beauty of being alive, and they tell it with wonder. I think the world needs more of that wonder, and less of the cold, hard realism that fills so many films today.

For a young reader who wants to make films, I would say this: watch Toto le héros first, because it is short and beautiful, and then watch The Eighth Day, because it will teach you about kindness. Then, when you are ready, watch Mr. Nobody, because it will make you think about your own life. And do not hurry. Van Dormael did not hurry, and his films are better for it. Take your time, find your own voice, and make the film only you can make. That is the lesson of his life.

In the end, I think Jaco Van Dormael is one of the great dreamers of modern cinema. He dreams in images, he dreams in stories, and he invites us to dream with him. His films are not easy, and they are not for everyone, but for those who are willing to enter them, they are a gift. They remind us that life is stranger than we think, that people are kinder than we think, and that a single choice can open many lives. I am glad he exists, and I am glad he works slowly, because the slowness means that when his next film comes, it will be worth the wait. I also think about what his films teach us about time. In Toto le héros, an old man looks back at his childhood, and the past and the present live together on screen. In Mr. Nobody, a man remembers all the lives he might have lived, and time branches like a tree. These are not simple ideas, but Van Dormael makes them feel natural, because he films time the way we experience it: not as a straight line, but as a tangle of memories, dreams, and choices. I think that is a wise way to see life. We do not live in a straight line. We live in a tangle, and our past is always with us, shaping what we do next. His films help me to see that tangle more clearly, and to be kinder to myself about the choices I have made.

There is another lesson in the way he treats people with disabilities. In The Eighth Day, Georges is not a problem to be solved. He is a teacher, a friend, and a full human being. That is a radical thing to show on screen, even today, when many films still treat disabled people as symbols or as objects of pity. Van Dormael did not do that. He gave Georges joy, anger, humour, and love, and he let Pascal Duquenne play all of it. I think that changed cinema, even if only a little, and I am grateful for it. A film that shows a disabled person as a complete human being is doing important work, and The Eighth Day does that work beautifully.

I think about Brussels, too, and about what Van Dormael has done for his city. Brussels is not Paris or London, and it does not have a big film industry. But Van Dormael made great films there, and he showed the world that a small city can produce great art. He filmed its streets, its flats, and its skies, and he made them look magical. That is a lesson for anyone from a small place: you do not have to leave to make great work. You can stay, you can look closely at where you are, and you can find the magic that is already there. Van Dormael found it in Brussels, and he shared it with the world.

His slowness is something I keep returning to, because it is so unusual today. He makes a film every ten years, and the world waits. In a time when everyone is told to produce more, faster, and louder, Van Dormael produces less, slower, and quieter, and his work is better for it. I think that is a brave choice, and it is a necessary one. Art needs time, and time cannot be rushed. A film that is made in a hurry shows its hurry. A film that is made slowly shows its care. Van Dormael’s films show their care in every frame, and that is why they last. I wish more artists had his courage to be slow.

I also think about his brother Pierre, and about the music in his films. Pierre composed music for Jaco’s early films, and his music gave the images a warmth and a rhythm that made them complete. When Pierre died in 2008, Jaco lost a brother and a collaborator, and his later films carry that loss in their quieter moments. I feel sad when I think about that, because a partnership like that is rare. But I also think the music in Mr. Nobody and in The Brand New Testament carries Pierre’s spirit, even though he was gone. Art can keep a person close, even after death, and I think Jaco’s films do that for his brother. That is a beautiful and a sad thing, and it is part of what makes his later films so moving.

The question of choice in Mr. Nobody is one I think about in my own life. What if I had chosen differently? What if I had taken another road, lived in another city, loved another person? The film says that every choice leads to a life, and every life has its own joy and its own pain. That is both frightening and comforting. It is frightening because it means we cannot know if we chose well. It is comforting because it means that no single choice ruins a life. There is good in every path, if we look for it. I think that is a wise and kind message, and I admire Van Dormael for putting it into a film that millions of people can watch and think about.

I think about the circus in his childhood, and how it shaped him. A circus is a place where the impossible becomes possible, where a person can fly, and where a clown can make you laugh and cry at the same time. Van Dormael’s films have that circus feeling. They are not realistic, but they are true. They tell the truth about love, about loss, and about the strange beauty of being alive, and they tell it with wonder. I think the world needs more of that wonder, and less of the cold realism that fills so many films today. Wonder is not childish. It is a way of seeing clearly, and Van Dormael sees clearly.

For a young filmmaker, I would say this: watch Toto le héros first, because it is short and beautiful, and then watch The Eighth Day, because it will teach you about kindness. Then, when you are ready, watch Mr. Nobody, because it will make you think about your own life. And do not hurry. Van Dormael did not hurry, and his films are better for it. Take your time, find your own voice, and make the film only you can make. That is the lesson of his life, and it is a lesson that every young artist should hear.

Frequently Asked Questions

Who is Jaco Van Dormael?

Jaco Van Dormael is a Belgian film director born on 9 February 1957 in Ixelles, Brussels. He is known for the dreamlike feature films Toto le héros, The Eighth Day, Mr. Nobody, and The Brand New Testament.

What was Jaco Van Dormael’s first film?

His first feature film was Toto le héros, released in 1991. It tells the story of an old man who believes he was switched at birth, and it won the Camera d’Or for best first film at the Cannes Film Festival.

What is The Eighth Day about?

The Eighth Day tells the story of Harry, a busy businessman, and Georges, a young man with Down syndrome who has run away from his institution. Their journey together teaches Harry to slow down and to value joy, honesty, and love.

Did Pascal Duquenne win a prize at Cannes?

Yes, Pascal Duquenne shared the Best Actor prize at Cannes in 1996 with Daniel Auteuil for The Eighth Day. It was a historic moment, recognising Duquenne as an equal artist.

What is Mr. Nobody about?

Mr. Nobody is about Nemo Nobody, the last mortal man on Earth in 2092, who remembers all the lives he might have lived. The film explores choice, love, and the many paths a single life can take.

What is The Brand New Testament about?

The Brand New Testament imagines that God lives in a small flat in Brussels and is cruel and selfish. His daughter Ea runs away and writes a new testament, choosing six apostles and telling every person the date of their death.