“Instead of a hero searching for freedom, you get characters descending into darkness”
– CANNES 2026: The Caracas-born director breaks down his Asia Argento-starring thriller, which draws on many different genres
(© Giulia Jimenez/La Faena)
Selected for the Directors’ Fortnight at Cannes, the atmospheric thriller Death Has No Master sees Asia Argento return to the isolated place in Venezuela that she used to call home. Now, others have taken it over – and they are not willing to leave without a fight. Caracas-born helmer Jorge Thielen Armand breaks down his feature for us.
Cineuropa: Your film brings to mind vintage genre movies. Was that your goal?
Jorge Thielen Armand: I’m a big fan of good films from the late 1960s and 1970s, but I tried to keep this one more ambiguous. The story is set in contemporary Venezuela, which can actually look very “vintage” at times. It can be so disorientating! I touch on many genres here, but I tried not to label it. I was thinking about this sort of acid western, though. Just take Asia’s hat, for example – it’s really not common in that part of Venezuela. But instead of a hero searching for freedom, you get characters going into a downward spiral or descending into darkness.
Exactly – from the very beginning, you make it clear that she won’t end up in a good place. The house is falling apart, just as her family did.
She wants to sell the house, of course, but it’s just an excuse. She’s looking for something, and this process will be painful but necessary. She becomes possessed by the ghosts that are there, and all of the violence embedded within the land and its history.
The question of land ownership is very interesting to me because I don’t think it has an answer. Also, the land isn’t owned; it’s controlled, and it’s controlled by force. Who deserves it? Someone who bought it a long time ago or someone who has been living there? The law is on Asia’s character’s side, but you could argue that Sonia, who has made it her home, has a moral claim to it.
Asia Argento can be thought of as someone suited to playing domineering characters. You allow her to be very vulnerable.
There was something in her eyes – I just knew she was going to play that character. Even though that presented certain challenges – she doesn’t speak Spanish and had to learn it for the role – that was fine. She embraced it and came to Venezuela for a whole month to work with me, inhabit these locations and rehearse with non-professional actors. I was also very interested in her persona, who she is and what she evokes. There are many parallels you could draw between her and this character, and that’s what makes the film come alive.
With a title like this one, which seems to reference exploitation cinema, one expects the violence to be somewhat exaggerated. You made it feel real. But why was violence an important part of this story?
I borrowed the title from my grandmother’s short story, which is also called Death Has No Master. For me, every film is an opportunity to excavate my personal history. It meant something else there because it focused on one man who couldn’t kill this particular person, so he couldn’t “claim” death. He couldn’t own it. I gave it a different meaning, inspired by some recurring dreams I’ve had since leaving Venezuela.
The feature takes us to a place where the concept of law is relative. In a way, the only absolute law is that of the strongest, and justice can be served in many ways. Sometimes it takes the form of violence, sometimes revenge or corruption. This relates to what we were talking about earlier: the idea of controlling the land by force. But the shadow of violence is ever-present in Venezuela. It’s embedded in the history, in humour; it’s embedded in stories.
Not to mention that things can easily get out of hand in such a claustrophobic place.
Everything feels like part of this nightmare. This ambiguity keeps the character, and hopefully the audience, feeling as though they are walking in quicksand. For me, the right locations enrich everything. I treat my scripts as guides, not as blueprints, so I’m constantly rewriting up until the last day of shooting. I react to whatever life throws at me. This location was literally just a skeleton of a house. We had to create everything, bringing in all of the furniture and lamps. So much of this stuff comes from my great-aunt’s house – the portrait of my great-grandmother hangs in the dining room.
Did the story evolve into something darker than you’d anticipated, or was it exactly what you wanted to say?
The presence of Asia, the house and the way we made it look started to move into more of a gothic territory. I really enjoyed the darker parts of the film and the atmosphere that hung over it. Everything was leading me there: the location, the characters and the stories I kept hearing.
