Why was Samsa founded in 1986?
Claude Waringo. – “There were no film professionals in Luxembourg, no production companies. If a film isn’t funded, if it isn’t organised, the technicians and actors have no work. The six of us set out, without really knowing where it would lead us. At some point, you become a producer because it’s a profession in its own right, a way of working that’s different from that of a director. I had to make the decision to go one way or the other. Production was what mattered most.
What exactly does a producer do? Is there an artistic element to it?
Jani Thiltges. – “Of course. Sometimes I even feel that there’s more of an artistic element than a financial one (though the two are inseparable). We work closely with screenwriters and directors on the script, the genre and the positioning. It’s creative work, in a different way.
Bernard Michaux. – “I’ve always likened it to a property developer and an architect. The producer is the developer; they have an idea, they buy a plot of land or a screenplay, and at some point they hire an architect. Or it might be the architect who comes up with an idea. But it’s this collaboration between the two that makes it possible to secure funding and get the project off the ground.
In 1986, there weren’t any production companies. We had to start somewhere.
In Luxembourg, co-production with other countries is a necessity. Is this a constraint or an asset?
C.W. - “It’s very positive. It’s like asking: should a Luxembourger go and study abroad? For me, the answer is obvious. With these partners, we need to discuss the script, the cast and the release strategy; it broadens our horizons. If we were in Paris, we’d have 12 different sources of funding. In Luxembourg, shutting ourselves away in a little bubble would be a mistake.”
B.M. - “There is only one source of funding in Luxembourg (the FilmFund, editor’s note). We need partners abroad.”
From “Schacko Klak” in 1989 to “Capitani” in 2019, how has the way Luxembourg is portrayed changed?
C.W. – “In the early 2000s, people were still telling us that there was no such thing as a contemporary Luxembourgish subject. ‘Capitani’ proves the opposite; it’s our life, our everyday existence, just like in Amsterdam or Paris. Between the two productions, an entire industry has also emerged: the technicians, the actors, the resources. It has all been built up over 30 years.
Artificial intelligence is a cause for concern across many sectors of the industry. As producers, do you feel a sense of responsibility in the face of these challenges?
B.M. – “It’s primarily a tool. In practical terms, we’re still a long way off when it comes to image production. People working on visual effects in the US tell me they’re not getting the cinematic quality they need. Will that come? Probably. A robot might be able to run a canteen kitchen; but for a two-star restaurant, we’ll always go to a place with proper chefs.
C.W. – “I’m seeing the first 100% AI short film festival in Cannes this week (in May 2026, editor’s note). We’re closer to it than Bernard gives us credit for. The mainstream accounts for 98% of global audiovisual production; what we do with our directors (art-house films, ed.) is commercially insignificant. What worries me more is that people are ready to accept AI actors.
Forty years is also about what comes next. How do you envisage succession at Samsa?
C.W. – “We’ve set up a sort of ‘Samsa Junior’; a company with three young producers called Encore Pictures. We give them our moral support… and a bit of financial backing [laughs]. Because what I’ve found in practice is that a 22-year-old female director isn’t going to turn to me automatically. She’ll look for people of her own generation whom she might already know because they’ve had a few drinks together on a terrace.
J.T. – “For a company to outlive its founders, you need to bring in new people. And then, we all hope one day to find that Luxembourgish director who will be in competition at Cannes. Just like Norway 20 years ago, where there was virtually nothing, then two or three names emerged, and suddenly it became a country known for its cinema.’
Is there a film in your catalogue that you love dearly but that nobody has heard of?
B.M. – “‘Collective’, by Alexander Nanau. I think it’s a truly beautiful documentary; I’m proud of it.”
C.W. – “For me, it’s ‘Une liaison pornographique’ by Frédéric Fonteyne (which is anything but a pornographic film). It was the first time one of our films had been screened at a major festival (Venice). It remains a very fond memory.”
Junior T. “‘Irina Palm’, by Sam Garbarski. I remember when we watched the rough cut, we wondered whether people would laugh. In Berlin, they laughed at all the right moments. It sold out everywhere.”
This article was written for the June 2026 issue of Paperjam magazine, published on 20 May. The content is produced exclusively for the magazine. It is published on the website to contribute to Paperjam’s comprehensive archive.
Click on this link to subscribe to the magazine.
Is your company a member of the Paperjam Club? You can request a subscription in your name. Please let us know via club@paperjam.lu










