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Antonin Baudry says international relations are driven by power and interests, while his own career shift from diplomacy to filmmaking shows how persistence and risk can turn a long-held ambition into major historical cinema.
Antonin Baudry, who spent 13 years in diplomacy before becoming a filmmaker, argues that there are no inherently benevolent countries in international affairs. In his view, states act through power relations and interest, and France was too ready after 1945 to believe lasting goodwill from allies, especially the United States. He links that reading to Charles de Gaulle’s instinct that the weaker party cannot yield ground without being overrun.
Before directing films, Baudry built an unusually broad career across science, literature and state service. He studied at elite French institutions, worked in diplomatic and political circles, then left a stable post to pursue filmmaking, a goal he says he had carried for years. He insists the move was not a rejection of diplomacy, which he describes as fascinating, but the decision to fully commit to cinema when it became impossible to do both.
Baudry directed his first feature, Le Chant du loup, after years of writing comics and developing creative work alongside his official duties. He began writing the film around 40 and shot it in 2017, at about 42. That progression, he argues, matters: changing careers was not a sudden leap but the continuation of work already underway in the background, often late at night after long days in government.
His two-part project on de Gaulle consumed six years of work and, by his account, nearly all his mental space. He describes the process as both exhilarating and punishing, with the second film still being finished as the first reached audiences. The films were designed to be seen consecutively, though each can stand on its own.
Baudry approached de Gaulle not as a monument but as a character. He wanted to escape the burden of a national symbol and focus on the individual behind the legend, including the emotional restraint often mistaken for coldness. The project drew heavily on the work of British historian Julian Jackson, though the writing process also involved reading more than 150 books on the period.
The release pattern of the first de Gaulle film did not follow standard expectations. After a weak start that seemed unsurprising for a historical film, attendance unexpectedly rose in the third week, reversing the usual downward trend. Baudry notes that the turnaround began about three days before the second film’s release, making it hard to attribute solely to sequel momentum or any one promotional tactic.
Baudry is skeptical of neat post hoc explanations for success. He acknowledges the value of publicity and online recommendations but rejects the idea that any single campaign can fully explain a breakthrough. His broader point is that audiences remain sovereign and that cultural success often comes from a hard-to-reproduce mix of timing, quality and collective response.
As cultural counselor in New York, Baudry worked on French educational, artistic and research ties in the United States. One of his most visible achievements was creating Albertine, a French bookstore that has become part of the city’s literary landscape. He says American attachment to France goes beyond tourism and can be activated through books, film, opera, visual arts and broader cultural exchange.
Baudry rejects the idea that creators must wait for permission or credentials before starting. He argues that legitimacy is earned afterward, if the work proves itself, not granted in advance by institutions or gatekeepers. His advice is direct: begin, work consistently, and accept that failure is always possible but less costly than never trying.
Baudry’s account joins two themes: a realist reading of global power and a personal belief that action matters more than waiting for validation. In both diplomacy and art, he presents resolve, endurance and timing as decisive forces.
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