Now in its 23rd edition, the Grosilon Festival is a showcase of films shot in Madeira and the Azores from 1930 to the present day. A choice that also pays tribute to the strong Lusitanian community that arrived on the Morbihan island in the 1960s and 1970s.
A festival on an island that tells about islands. The 23rd edition of the Groix International Island Film Festival (Fifig) is dedicated to the islands of Portugal, showcasing, within a rich programme, ten films shot in Madeira and the Azores between 1930 and today. Enough to attract a certain audience, particularly sensitive to this theme: about 10% of the Morbihan island's 2,300 inhabitants are of Portuguese origin.
First there was a dam. In the mid-1960s, the Groix area, off the coast of Lorient, was in decline, and the splendor of the tuna fishing of the early 20th century was far behind. “In fifty years, after not having taken the train of modernity – starting with the motor boat – the island lost half its population, and the other half is getting older. “Young people go to work on the continent and women no longer necessarily want to be farmers,” explains Anne-Catherine Vigneault-Gouletker, author of the historical calendar of the island of Groix (ed. Groix, 2021). The mayor of the town at the time, Joseph Bouillon, had the good idea of installing running water to revitalize the island. And why not go into tourism? The site of Port Melin, to the north, was chosen for the construction of a dam. A job that requires a lot of hands. “Except that people here were more used to fishing than building houses,” says Jo Le Port, 75, a former sailor and bar owner. In 1966, the Western Civil Engineering Society (SGCO) spread the word in the Paris area, where the majority of Portuguese refugees who had fled the Salazar regime lived. Construction workers and masons were needed in Cayo: about fifteen Portuguese went there.
More integrated than the Bretons on the continent.
Mireille Rodrigues, née Jennick, was not yet 15 years old when she first saw the handsome Augusto on his yellow bike, returning from the construction site. “When I saw him, I said: ‘He’s him, no one else.’” One evening in 1966, at the merry-go-round (“jaw crusher”) in Place de Lorée, the deal was sealed. Despite the eleven-year gap between them and her mother’s opposition, Mireille married Augusto in 1968. “Almost all the young workers married from Gruesillon and stayed here,” she explains, sipping tea. Not only would Julio Teixeira, who arrived at a young age to work on the dam, be so quick to contradict her: “The men here were a bit jealous of us, we stole their girls. They all wanted to ride my motorbike. My wife was the last one to do so. » Their integration into island life is going well: they are not sailors, and they do not overwhelm the locals – except when it comes to girls. It just so happens that the “foreigners” [appellation de toute personne née hors de l’île, ndlr]“Although they came from Lorient, on the other side of the inlet, their integration was less good, because they also wanted to work in fishing,” says Jo Le Port.
“After the dam, those who stayed set up construction companies and employed local people, who really needed them,” he continues. They sent their children to school and went to Mass, which strengthened their integration into local life. » The Portuguese in Groix, who were satisfied with their situation, encouraged their relatives and friends to join them during the 1970s. Today, the third generation intends to take over the family business and continue living on the island. “They are Groixians like the others, period,” says Mireille. In the first years of the film festival’s life, at the beginning of the 2000s, members of this community became involved in the organization, notably by hosting artists. “The theme of Fifig 2024 was chosen to pay tribute to this part of the population,” confirms Jane Hardy, co-artistic director, who wants to bring the “foreign” audience of the event closer to the islanders. “This festival is also for them.”
Natasha Marbut Telegram August 21, 2024
