He had something quite different up his sleeve. It was to be set in a grand old Parisian home with a leafy garden, the domicile of someone rich and famous, and a world away from his impoverished band of thieves who live together as family on the fringes of society in Tokyo.

Actually, The Truth had been in development for some time with Juliette Binoche, the French star of renown. And Kore-eda had a screenplay to polish up and already one or two other actors in mind. American actor Ethan Hawke (Before Sunrise trilogy), who is at ease in French language cinema, for starters.

Kore-eda's other idea was getting Catherine Deneuve on board. An icon of French cinema since the 1960s, Deneuve is an imposing 76 years old, with a leonine head of hair and a "don't-even-think-about-it" expression on her classic features.

He wanted her for the character Fabienne, an ageing film star still performing, who is estranged from her screenwriter daughter, Lumir (Binoche), who lives in New York. Things come to a head when Lumir returns to France to celebrate the publication of her mother's memoir.

How did Kore-eda get the two of them, Binoche and Deneuve, in their first ever collaboration on screen?

'I was developing this with Juliette Binoche for years," he says.

"When I suggested that we ask Catherine Deneuve to play the mother, Juliette said it would be a big challenge for her, as well as a great honour.

"When I told the French staff it was the direction I wanted to go in, they came back and said, you know, a French person would never think of that. That's wild."

Wild, indeed. Yet there is ample space for both onscreen in this subtle, layered family drama. The Truth is an intriguing double act with two iconic French actors, a generation apart, who share the screen.

Hawke is there too, as Hank, Lumir's husband, a TV actor as often at rehab as he is in work.

What was it like working with Deneuve? "She will always be able to give you the take you want," says Kore-eda.

"The really interesting thing is that she knows when she has given it to you. She'll have a moment of inspiration, then, bang, it will come out, and she'll tell you 'oh, that was the one'."

I have read elsewhere that she tends not to arrive on set until noon and prefers to work in Paris, though Kore-eda does not mention this.

In The Truth, Binoche and Deneuve each play both a mother and a daughter at different points. Lumir has arrived with her daughter Charlotte (Clementine Grenier) and Fabienne's current role is as a daughter in a time-travelling story, 'Memories of My Mother', a tale with a far-fetched plot that pokes a bit of fun at the high seriousness of science fiction.

The beauty of Kore-eda's films is their exploration of family - family in its many manifestations, family with blood ties and 'families' without.

He has observed that one of his major realisations in life is that bringing a child into the world is not enough to make you a parent, and that the concept of family needs constant reaffirmation.

Will he continue exploring this fundamental human relationship?

"It's one of those subjects that you never arrive at a final definitive answer," he says. But we shall see.

Kore-ada, incidentally, speaks neither English nor French. This interview a couple of weeks ago was conducted through an interpreter.

How is it possible to make a film in France when you don't speak French, or English? Kore-eda works closely with his Japanese-French speaking translator, Lea Le Dimna, whom he met at the Marrakech film festival.

"In the past five years since I met her, I've consistently hired her services." Her familiarity with how Kore-eda communicates his working methods has made her indispensable.

How did he find it working with a French cast and crew?

"One of the key differences working with French people is that they pretty much say what they think and tell you face to face, whereas if you are Japanese you might hold back, and stay silent about those things." he says.

"I was sort of aware of that difference and wanted to incorporate it, that they would say what they think, and that much is a very integral part of this film."

It's such an interesting observation that seems to fit with the observation that Shoplifters offers another perspective on the official narrative about well-being in Japanese family and society.

I suggest that The Truth plays with the naked truth, the embellished truth and the unspoken truth, while it develops a recognition of the position that each character is coming from.

"You're absolutely right," he says, to general laughter.

It's more important than agreeing on the truth.

"The story as I approached it was that there was this daughter who was to confront her mother with the truth. Whatever it was.

"Yet when she recounts her own history, she realises there are other truths or things that have been glossed over.

"So, that's the account I really wanted to cover.

"That she does have these moments where the trick is that the truth is actually less important than finding out where she stood in relation to her mother.

"In the story, it is the performance that actually helps heal those gaps."