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When Danish documentarian Anders Østergaard took on the challenge to make Burma VJ, he had no idea how much he would advance the cause of citizen journalism. The Democratic Voice of Burma, a collective of 30 anonymous and underground video journalists (VJs), recorded the 100,000+ demonstrators (including thousands of Buddhist monks) who took to the streets in 2007 to protest the repressive junta that for over 40 years has controlled Burma — a.k.a. Mynamar, as the regime renamed it.
Since foreign news crews were barred, the Internet was shut down and domestic reporters were banned unless employed by the state, the VJs used Handycams and cellphones to document these historic and dramatic events; they then smuggled this samizdat footage out of the country for broadcast worldwide via satellite. These VJs risked torture and imprisonment to show the brutal clashes with undercover police and the military — even after they themselves became targets of the authorities.
Using this smuggled footage, offered for free usage to the international media, the 40-something filmmaker tells the dramatic story of those protests and briskly shows how the Burma VJs stopped at nothing to make their reports. This raw footage, sent through clandestine electronic channels, marked a new step in freedom of expression, and Østergaard's film has stirred a media pot now percolating in other global trouble spots, such as Iran. The protesters there have also now captured unvarnished images, and send reports through digital channels of their actions and of their government's violent reaction.
Østergaard has previously helmed films about pop culture, covering such subjects as the Scandinavian rock band Gasolin' and the Belgian comic-strip classic Tin Tin. Ironically, with Burma VJ he covered another aspect of popular culture — the use of digital technology to create user-generated content — to document a major political act of defiance. The results have paid off in various accolades, from a 2009 Sundance Film Festival Grand Jury prize to an Academy Award nomination for Best Feature Documentary.
In fact, this exclusive interview itself was done through the cutting-edge technology of the videophone-like Skype — so once again, the digital domain advances journalistic expression.
Q: The human rights abuses in Burma don't seem to be on the radar like some other issues. Are you a little surprised that the film has garnered this support? What do you think made it click?
AO: I think [it's] the uniqueness of the material that these reporters gathered — this unique access and this very dramatic portrait of an uprising, which they’ve managed to pass on to the world. I also think some of our own decisions play a role: our deliberate decision to tell this story as a suspense story, using all the cinematic tools needed for that, which I think was a good choice for the film.
Q: How did you contact the Burmese people? Was there someone who was your liaison, or was it someone you knew from Denmark? What was the connection?
AO: It was pretty straightforward. Once we decided that we wanted to work with this we got in touch with the Democratic Voice of Burma in Oslo, [Norway], which is basically a satellite-TV and radio station, and explained our interest, and they were very forthcoming. They needed the attention — I guess they trusted us — so they sent us to Bangkok to meet 12 of those reporters who were coming out of training.
Q: Are they paranoid that someone might be an agent of the government?
AO: They're used to this. I think their biggest worry is that one of their recruits would be an agent. They deal with this all the time and I'm sure they made their investigations.
Q: When you made this film what was your hope or your original expectations for it? Do you think you can change society with it?
AO: Oh, absolutely not. I wasn't too focused on purpose as such. I tend to go so deep into the storytelling in itself — that that’s what really drives me and I don’t think too much about the function afterward.
Of course, I can see from the old pictures that I tried to say that I wanted to make the Burmese condition tangible, so that you could feel it and smell it, and I guess that was my ambition, to take it beyond the abstract interest in some other country and just be there. And that was what I was totally committed to when I put the film together; I didn't speculate too much on the aftermath of what might come out of this politically.
Q: You had so many different people involved; who did you consider your critical liaison? Who was the one gentleman that you had with you in the States that was working with you from Burma?
AO: That was very obvious to me when I met [the VJs' tactical leader, code-named] Joshua, because, first of all, he wasn’t scared. Understandably, most of these guys would be already very paranoid about what they were doing, so having a foreign film crew on top of that was just too much, obviously. Joshua had this kind of fearless attitude to everything, and he also had an intuitive understanding of how to explain Burma; he’s an excellent communicator.
And he has also a mix of qualities that intrigued me. He was on the one hand this cheeky young guy looking for challenges and really enjoying his cat-and-mouse game with the police sometimes. And, on the other hand, kind of a reflective, philosophical guy, who could also look back and explain the Burmese condition in a very deep way. So I was just intrigued by his qualities as a storyteller.
Q: How did you and producer Lise Lense-Møller define your roles? You obviously have the directing experience, so how did she come in as producer?
AO: Very much in the European tradition, I would say, in pretty much keeping hands off the creative business but making sure to give solid financial support. For instance, we needed some extra time, and she had the guts to let that happen even though she was under considerable economic pressure. So her contribution is mainly securing the financial circumstances. Creatively, she would be less involved than some other people.
Q: Were there moments when you were worried that this wouldn't happen? It must have been touch-and-go as to whether you had enough stuff that would make a film, and whether it would look right. Was there a point where anybody was in danger?
AO: Security, of course, was a big issue all the time and made some restrictions to what we could do. We tried to work creatively with that; we tried to make a virtue out of necessity. How can we work with people when we can't see their faces? That led us to phone conversations as a leading tool for the film. Otherwise, just sorting out the chaos; the material came in a pretty confused way where we wouldn't know who'd shot what and when, so we had to piece all that together first before we could start telling the story.
Q: When did you know you had a movie that would work?
AO: I think I was struck quite early on by the uniqueness of the material, the very straightforward demonstration of the regime's brutality. But also the happy moments, the optimism of the early days of the uprising, when everybody was coming out in the streets. I think they managed to capture that beautifully, if you consider the circumstances. These were guys who could barely pay for the bus ticket.
Q: How much information did you decide to put in or not put in? How much do you reveal or not reveal about the regime and Burma's history? How much do you assume that people know, understand or are passionate about?
AO: Much of these decisions are made by instinct, by the kind of director you are, the kind of storyteller you are. And as I said before, the number one thing for me was to make people experience the Burmese condition, to feel it, to sense it, the whole visceral thing about it. So that led obviously to me being very, very restrictive about me spending time on history, on more than just the absolutely necessary information.
Q: Do you hope some day you’ll be able to go to Burma without having to be under scrutiny?
AO: That would be the greatest strength.
Q: Of the many people you’ve talked to, what are their expectations?
AO: Well interestingly, in my experience the most optimistic people are the Burmese, and that’s a curious thing. I don’t know if it’s because of their Buddhist education, but they seem to be the most patient and the most convinced that some day that this regime will fall. The uprising of 2007 was a tragedy, but it was also a reminder of what people are actually able to do and how they’re able to battle their own fears.
Q: Was there any one person in the film that you consider the key to getting the film?
AO: Joshua, meeting Joshua. That was a critical thing, to have somebody who was able to give his voice to this, and to bridge any cultural gaps and make it such a smooth and happy collaboration, to me that’s a crucial thing. And also, some of the other guys also had these qualities actually. So basically the VJs.
Q: Do you know of anybody that had a chance to speak to Aung San Suu Kyi?
AO: We’ll see; there are some complications to that.
Q: How did making this film affect you personally?
AO: Well it made me very busy. Putting a film together like this, first of all is hard work, and you’re so focused on doing it right that you really don’t spend much time feeling a lot of stuff. Just dealing with this huge responsibility really takes up most of your energy. But of course, I think what made the biggest impression on me was to watch the uplifting footage, the hopeful early days, this moves me just as much as it seems to have moved the audience.
Q: In your one week in Burma what did you see there that you hope tourists will one day be able to see?
AO: It’s a gem; it’s one of the most beautiful countries in the East. Also actually, ironically, because of the regime things have been preserved in a way quite different from, for instance, Thailand. It also is in terrible decay, but the millions of pagodas, the lush green trees of Rangoon. First of all the people are very mild mannered and gentle and they’re wonderful people.
Q: Have you had an interest in other countries in South East Asia?
AO: Not too much. I’m not an expert on Burma or on Asia as such. I’ve done a little bit of traveling in Indonesia, but nothing that would really put me in a special position. I came to this as a filmmaker more than anything else.
Q: I’ve met a number of the Burma refugees here in the States. It’s a tough struggle. I don’t know who has it worse; the Tibetans or them.
AO: It’s pretty bleak for both of these peoples. It’s a good fortune that they’re both Buddhists because it helps them a lot, clearly.
BB: One other really fascinating aspect to the film is your exploitation of the contemporary technology. Your movie couldn’t have existed a few years ago. When you step back and think abut the implications of that, that must have interesting ramifications in your head.
AO: Sure.
Q: What are your thoughts on this.
AO: Of course a film is not just about Burma, it’s also a celebration of citizen journalism as such. And telling people that technology is not always a bad thing; there’s a tendency to think that cameras or something that’s going to watch you, that Big Brother is going to watch you. But it actually can also be Little Brother watching the tyrants, which I think is a positive note. Basically, I’m every optimistic about technology, I believe in that kind of thing, I believe in progress through technology, so I’m happy it’s a celebration of that too.
Q: You obviously have to be emotionally committed when you make a movie like this but at the same time where do you draw the line as to how you continue to be committed or not. Obviously, you’re going to go on to do other things after the Oscars, but then you say to yourself, “Well, do I need to come back to it, to continue to worry about what’s going on in Burma?” Where do you draw the line?
AO: Well I draw it just around the Oscar, actually. I hope this will be the end of my story with this at least. Of course personally I will always be attached to the issue on some level; you don’t just quit that. I made a lot of friends in Burmese circles and so on. But professionally, I expect this to be the finale of almost one and a half years of touring with this film.
Q: Of all the people you’ve met from Sundance on, who’s been most exciting to you?
AO: To be honest I think what made the greatest impression on me was going to places like 10 Downing Street and being welcomed. It felt very natural to be there and to present this film, and that people connected to it so easily, that was great.
Q: Did you meet President Obama?
AO: No, I never met Obama. But of course this leaves a huge impression. Otherwise, what touches me most about this, is when I get, for instance recently I got a picture from New Delhi, from a open-air screening on a street corner in New Delhi organized by some local Tibetans. So they were sitting there in the street watching “Burma VJ” and the street was packed. Traffic stopped; they were all just sitting there and totally engulfed with it. They tell me that this has helped to bring Tibetan and Burmese exiles more together in India and those are the stories that really touch you.
Q: And are you looking forward to the Oscar parties? Whether you win or lose you get to go to the Oscar parties.
AO: I guess so. I don’t know what to look forward to but it seems to be pretty intense.
Q: When you’ve gone to Oscar events like the nominees' lunch, there’s got to be somebody you’re really excited to meet. Give me a fan moment.
AO: It was a great moment to say hello to Danny Ellsberg[, the former military analyst whose 1971 release of the Pentagon Papers, a secret Pentagon study of US decision-making regarding the Vietnam War, produced major historical ramifications]. Even though it's not my country'/s history, that was nice. Otherwise, I wouldn't say meeting any specific person, but what I really enjoyed about that lunch was this kind of collegial atmosphere, like we were making this class photo. There was a sense that superstars would mingle with other members of the film industry without any sense of difference. Everybody knew that film is hard work and we share this hard work, we share this effort, and we share this commitment to the medium. So that was very pure and nice, the atmosphere.
Q: What's next?
AO: I've barely had a chance to build up a new film because I’ve been so busy with this for a long time. So that's actually what I'm hoping to get started thinking about once this is finished.
Q: It will be something stylistically different?
AO: Oh yeah it might be entirely different. I just follow whatever story fascinates me.
For more by Brad Balfour: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brad-balfour
Director, producer and entrepreneur Ondi Timoner takes her mission to self-distribute her provocative feature documentary We Live In Public — winner of the 2009 Sundance Film Festival's Grand Jury Prize (which she won the year before for her challenging rock-doc DIG!) — to multiple venues throughout the country. Star Adrian Grenier hosted a New York City screening in the club Arena, and with live streaming at weliveinpublicthemovie.com (which is scheduled to run clips). We Live In Public was also the closing night film for Lincon Center's 2009's New Directors/New Films festival.
In addition to a screening, a coordinated event held in Chicago, Illinois featured a 24-hour recreation of Josh Harris' infamous and groundbreaking performance-art video Quiet , in which he curated and funded an underground bunker in New York City where over 100 people lived together on camera for 30 days at the turn of the millennium. The Chicago bunker featured live performance pods, including fire throwers, trapeze artists and celebrity DJs.
We Live In Public was released worldwide on March 2, cross-platform, via digital (iTunes), VOD and DVD.The documentary on several episodes in the life of Internet pioneer Harris, who created the first Web conferences; an online television network, Psuedo, before there was really broadband on which to transmit; and the envelope-pushing art event called Quiet ; and who video-documented himself and his girlfriend 24/7 as part of a cultural and psychological stress test. Harris has been praised and castigated: Some think he's genius, others, a loon.
The intense Timoner has made other provocative films such as DiG! — a strange expose of the rivalry between two rock bands and the psychological damage done along the way — but with this film she has grabbed whole cloth the idea of "indie" and is doing it herself, from production to distribution.
Q: We Live In Public is about so many things; it's this review of counterculture and subversive culture, art culture, high/low culture; but how did you first intersect with Josh Harris?
OT: I actually started working at Pseudo in 1998. I was here shooting with [photographer/director] David LaChapelle for something I haven't finished, which is called Artists and Prostitutes; before his book I was calling it that. I met him through The Dandy Warhols who was shooting the "Junky" video and I was shooting DiG!, and he and I hit it off a lot so I started filming him in his studio and also filming.
They were having sort of a downturn in their love relationship with Capitol Records, and a friend of mine, Jodi Wille — she has a company now called Process Media, where they put out some really excellent, interesting books — she recommended that I go down to this place called Pseudo that was on the corner of Houston and Broadway, and she said, "It's an Internet television network," and I said, "Internet television network? What is that?" and she said, "I don't really know but it's apparently pretty extraordinary; you should go down there and check it out."
So I went down to pick up some extra cash and was really blown away by the state of the studio. Just state of the art studios, like CNN or some major network, but literally no one could watch. I mean 0.1% of the population maybe had anything but basic dialup and there was no broadband. So it was just incredible and we were paid very well to shoot programming that was extremely niche and the quality of which was quite questionable.
I worked on Tanya [Corrin]'s show [on Pseudo], Cherry Bomb, and that's how I was able to get that interview with her which was pretty much a linchpin interview in the documentary. But it was 2006 when I got that interview with her, when she's pregnant. She wanted nothing to do with Josh at that point but because I had had a relationship with her through Cherry Bomb I was able to get that. So I worked there for a little while; I met Josh but he doesn't really remember meeting me, and then the following year he was contemplating The Bunker and he called me, I was back in Los Angeles...
Q: So you've always been based in Los Angeles?
OT: Pretty much.
Q: You never really made a full move to New York.
OT: Well, you know, I was born in Miami, Florida, and I went to school at Yale in New Haven, Connecticut. So I would come down to the city all the time, and my first job in documentary was interning at WNET; it was PBS' American Masters, and it was Helen Whitney, and it was Richard Avedon. So I would come into the city.
Q: So you started out with a more traditional documentary background.
OT: No, I didn't fit in.
Q: You are a bit gonzo.
OT: I'm a bit gonzo; correct. When I was at Yale, Yale had no production facilities so I found a public access station opening right at that time in New Haven called CTV: Citizens Television. And they had this deal where I went to the opening orientation and they said, "If you let us show whatever you make you can sign up for three hour chunks of time to edit on our systems."
And it was a shuttle editing system where if you change one thing you have to change everything after kind of thing. But basically I just went out with a consumer video camera, and my first film was called 3000 Miles and a Woman with a Video Camera, where I just drove across the country on spring break with my roommate and my brother David who was my collaborator for a very long time.
Actually, he and I started Interloper Films together, my little brother; he was a freshman when I was a junior at Yale, so we were in school together, so we would go to the public access station and cut footage together. So we just started doing things; we went across the country and I interviewed people in tollbooths and convenience stores about what they feared the most, what made them the most happy, and these debates would start.
I realized, oh my God, with a camera I can bridge into this other world and I can start talking to people and they'll answer me and they'll start talking. So I asked this one guy, "What do you fear the most?" and he went, "Women with video cameras." So it was called 3,000 Miles and a Woman with a Video Camera; that was my first movie.
Then I went ahead and did another one, which is kind of interesting. It just came up in a meeting downstairs, called Reflections on a Moment: The Sixties and the Nineties and it was about Hunter S. Thompson — who I also wrote my high school term paper about — his work; it wasn't really him in it. It was about the idea that those of us who were coming up in the '80s and '90s missed it; we missed the time when there was something to root for or something to fight against. There was nothing, there was nothing for us, and I was like, this is a problem with my generation.
So I went to [Grateful] Dead shows and I documented people about Hunter S. Thompson and everything from the '60s, that spirit that somehow we didn't have, and I felt like I had been born too late.
Now, I'm lucky enough to be breaking bread with D.A. Pennebaker and DiG! is ranked number two behind Don't Look Back and Pace Magazine is like, "the rock film of all time," and this man downstairs was just comparing my work to Frederick Wiseman, saying there's no documentary filmmaker today that's closer to Frederick Wiseman than I.
To me, Frederick Wiseman's Titicut Follies is one of the most amazing films that I've ever seen. So I just had this revelation this morning that maybe I wasn't born too late; maybe I was supposed to actually be carrying the vérité tradition into this time, and actually that would be the thing I'm proudest of. If that's true, if I'm carrying the torch of some of the fantastic work that was done back then in terms of documentary, that's a great accomplishment.
Q: Films like yours show that this continuity goes beyond the '70s. The film contributes to making that statement. When I participated in Quiet I felt like it was a direct link (even though I didn't stay in the bunker), and that's why I think it's important you get this out there.
OT: It's not conscious right? It is just me and it's what I'm here to do. Josh called me; let's be clear about that. It's not like I sought him out and said, "Oh my God, I have to document this bunker."
He invited me to film this and I said, "What do you have in mind?" and he said, "Do you want to document cultural history?" and I said, "Well always, but what do you have in mind?" and he said, "I don't know really what it's going to be, but it's going to be at the end of the year and all these artists are coming together doing their installations. And I'll tell you this; if you are interested, I'll give you whatever resources you need to make it happen."
Q: Had you met him when he was doing the Jupiter Conferences — the seminal Internet events? that's when I first met Josh.
OT: No, I had no idea who this guy was. A lot of people were saying he's a businessman trying to buy his way into the art world, he's a buffoon. I didn't know what he was, all I knew was that when I went down there, I was actually living in LA but I came to New York to make a pilot for a VH1 show that I had created for VH1 called Sound Effects; it was about music's effect on people's lives, quite an incredible show.
Q: How long did it run?
OT: It only ran one season and I actually resigned because it was being so mishandled by the executives. It was kind of the dark ages of VH1. Lauren Zalaznick was the head and she was based in New York so she really didn't have a handle on what was going on in LA. I interviewed 250 people around America about how a song would affect their lives, like if the lyrics stuck in their head.
It's usually a pivotal moment, like in my case I heard Bob Marley's "High Tide" when I found out I was pregnant. Like, if you had a divorce, or your first kiss, so these stories that people would tell about this death-defying car accident, and how this one guy survived thanks to Bruce Springsteen's record coming out. Incredible series.
Q: Did you retain the rights?
OT: Nope; it was a big learning experience for me at the age of 27. It helped to push me down the road of independence, which I seem to be charging down. I think that We Live in Public is holding a torch right now; we're kind of blazing a trail — if we succeed — and it is the Wild West still on the Internet.
I mean, it's all coming to, so we're a little early. But using very little marketing money and reaching our audience directly as we are trying to do, and having important and influential supporters like Ashton Kutcher, Demi Moore, Eliza Dushku, Jason Calacanis, or Fred Wilson putting our widget on their blog, or tweeting out.
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Q: I very much believe in this idea of this level of independence.
OT: Well, I thank you. I think everyone who has a voice out there that's contributing some of their airtime or "finger time" to spreading the word about this film, because it is actually an extremely important social-issue film.
Q: Then you work with Josh, and no insult to him but there's a sort of childish or child-like or infantile quality to him that he still hasn't figured out whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. But there's some sort of a weird genius to him; he can be very focused. When you met him had his Lovey [the clown] alter-ego already been created? Or did Lovey not yet exist?
OT: I never saw Lovey show up at a Pseudo thing, but the lowest moment of my filmmaking career was when Lovey decided to bring three couples to simultaneous orgasm at the Quiet bunker in Lovey's lounge. Gay couple, lesbian couple, heterosexual couple, he was going to use the universal vibration, the sound "boing" and make that sound into a microphone, and in so doing somehow bring these people to orgasm while 100 people watched on. They were having sex on beds, being seen live in the room, and I was filming it.
It's not in the movie because we'd like the movie to show at Sundance. That footage has got to see the light of day at some point but we're still trying to figure it out. There are people in the office who have grabbed that footage and made their own cuts of it.
But anyway, point being, I'm standing there thinking, "This is the lowest moment of my career. Hands down." Just then a man walks up to me and says, "Are you Ondi Timoner?" and I said "Yeah," sort of ashamed to admit that at the time, and he said, "I need you. I need you to get on a plane with me to Africa. The oldest living civilization is being threatened."
At the sex show is when I got recruited. It's a crazy life I lead. Josh's alter ego was my way in to having compassion for him, ironically enough.
So DiG! goes on and wins Sundance, I'm on the front page of The New York Times, and I get an email from Josh, "Any interest in finishing the movie?" To which I replied, "No." And I thought, this is less pertinent than ever; maybe the bunker was somewhat revelatory the year after but who cares right now. And I don't want to be back in business with this charlatan.
So then a few months later he writes me again and says, "Will you get on the phone with me? We have a proposal." So I get on the phone with him and he says, "I propose that you are a partner now. 50% partner, creative control, I send you the masters right away." I'm sitting there thinking, "Wow. Okay well this sounds not so bad and there's no deadline."
Because [George W.] Bush was just winning the election the second time and everybody I figured in America was voting against their best interest so I was off to shoot a movie about mind control. So he said, "Here's the masters," and I said, "Okay fine, one caveat; I get to shoot you on the apple farm on the tractor."
He said fine, because at that point he was on the tractor. So we made a deal and he sent me the masters and I didn't finish the film; I just had some of the footage and media organized. I went and made my movie Join Us, about four families that escaped a church they realized may be a cult. I followed them and the cult leader over a few years.
Q: That's very ironic.
OT: It's so ironic. Look at it: The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Join Us, and We Live in Public. I don't know what the heck's going on; I think I'm very interested in what people are willing to give up to belong or have their lives matter, is what it comes down to. Or the megalomaniacs.
Q: Or the art of insanity.
OT: Yeah; all of that. But when I finished Join Us in 2007 I saw the first status update on Facebook. It said, "I'm driving west on the freeway," posted two hours ago. I thought, "Who cares?" Suddenly all these people cared. All of a sudden it hit me like this lightning flash and I had the clearest vision for a film I'd ever had, and that's how we were able to get through 5,000 hours in eight months of editing.
I started editing this in May of 2008. It's extremely complex filmmaking so it was really like an incredible team of dedicated people who saw themselves in this film, as most audience members see themselves, and really this lightening bolt of going from blindness to knowing exactly what the film is about.
It was about all of us, and it was about the fact that the bunker is a physical metaphor of the internet, and the dark side, and the risks involved, and we are in the bunker now, we are addicted to the internet in 10 short years, we are trapped in our virtual boxes, and Josh is Facebook. He says, "Everything's free except your image. That we own."
And even if you're sitting in your pajamas, logging onto Facebook, accepting the terms and conditions, and posting your photos online for that feeling of connection that you can have, you're not alone. It doesn't feel like it felt like to be in the bunker, but it's a very interesting study of what we will give up and what we will make public. And we are doing that right now in more and more ways and more and more of the time. And our relationships are becoming more superficial because of it. We're connecting out 10 times more with ten times less depth.
Q: So when you filmed Quiet, you had not only yourself but multiple camera people shooting?
OT: I had four camera crews and we had a multiplex. The first thing I did was get a multiplex system where I could feed the 110 surveillance cameras into one machine that would split them so I could see nine screens, four screens, one screen, as if I was a security camera person.
I would record those feeds, someone from my team would be there with nine VHS decks, we would choose which nine cameras were going to record, and one deck was hooked up to record the multiplex and we would record the boxes. I didn't like the bunker. I wouldn't have lived in the bunker; I had a pod and I tried it but I would never check into a society like that, that wouldn't be me.
I'm very resistant to groups. I didn't like the automatic firing range. And when the metaphor was complete about our lives, the one thing I couldn't figure out was what the neo-fascistic elements were all about; how does that apply to online? It applies in one way; this was the way I was able to work it out — how extreme do the circumstances have to be that people will just check in, answer 500 questions on a questionnaire, subject themselves to interrogations, put on uniforms, and enter a society that they're not supposed to leave for 30 days, with an automatic firing range, having no idea what's going to happen to them?
They will give that up to be where it matters when it matters, to feel like they are somehow important or that their lives are significant. They want to be part of history. They want to be not just part of it; they want to be the highlight. So they are now clamoring for the attention. It was their chance to be at the Factory. But that's only for some; some people were checking in there just to escape depression or be a part of the community.
Q: I liked it because I could eat there.
OT: The meals were fantastic; the performances during dinner were phenomenal.
Q: Instead of it being a warning, you can see on the flip side, it's a positive reflection, a document of the continuity that the internet, that Josh, that Pseudo, has with a larger bohemian counter culture where the long tail has become the culture now. That's why I'm writing about it and why I think it's important.
OT: It's an important history lesson and it begs the question of where we're headed from here. It's part of a continuum. I'm not going to let it go unnoticed.
Q: You're at the beginning of this whole other thing, and now you're in this whole new animal and how does it fit into this larger phenomenon?
OT: Well, I've had to take on another film. It's called Cool It, it's about solving the world's problems and the climate change debate and some other things in the world that need to be paid attention to simultaneously, and ways to approach that, and the controversy involved. It's inspired by a book called Cool It by the economist Bjorn Lomborg. I've started that film because I didn't sell We Live in Public, so it's not going to get my son to the dentist, and also because it is another extremely prescient, timely film [which generated controversy this year's as being a possible counter to the global warmers].
And another interesting animal to crack; I'm developing The Perfect Moment, which is a script that I optioned, did rewrites on, and am producing with actress Eliza Dushku. It's about the life of [photographer] Robert Mapplethorpe, [and] Patti Smith and their work. It's my first scripted narrative that I'm directing. But Mapplethorpe again; a cultural lightening rod, troubled artist, another New York story for everyone.
In terms of We Live in Public, it is absolutely in the middle of this and at the forefront of this. This film is a big billboard for Josh. Josh Harris has sought fame his entire life; he finally has more of it than he's ever had before.
It's a bit of a monster making thing; we flew him in for Sundance [last year], he had a roundtrip ticket, we won Sundance, he never left. He is here to launch his next project and every bit that this film does, any attention, helps him possibly get back in game.
I would not have made the film if it was not about all of us, and this time in our lives, and I want to raise consciousness about our use of internet at this crucial tipping point and so I'm committed to it.
For more by Brad Balfour: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brad-balfour
Having been familiar with documentary director Christian Frei's work from War Photographer, I wasn't sure what to expect with Space Tourists, his film about the post-Soviet effort to finance Russia's Space Program. By selling seats to very rich tourists of the extraterrestrial, the Russians have kept their shuttle flying while NASA is being forced to discontinue the American program.
Frei follows Iranian-American multimillionaire Anousheh Ansari — the co-founder and former CEO of Telecom Technologies, who on September 18, 2006, became the fourth space tourist, and first woman space tourist — as she goes through ersatz cosmonaut training on her way to becoming the world’s first female space tourist; the footage she shoots on board the International Space Station (ISS) is some of the most intimate, breathtaking imagery we will ever see from outer space.
As Ansari launches into orbit, Kazakh villagers gather the precious scrap metal from the jettisoned rockets, while a Romanian space enthusiast works on his low-tech spacecraft. The 98-minute Space Tourists suggests that while the pomp and pageantry of the space program may have died out with the 20th century, the human mysteries have only deepened.
Born in 1959, in Schönenwerd, Swiss filmmaker Frei is mostly known for his films War Photographer (2001) and The Giant Buddhas (2005). Both deal with topics and themes more or less linked to war and intolerance.
Frei studied visual media in the Department of Journalism and Communication at the University of Fribourg. He made his first documentary, Die Stellvertreterin (The Representative) in 1981. Since 1984 he has worked as an independent filmmaker. He also works regularly with Switzerland's German-language television network, Schweizer Fernsehen DRS. His previous film, War Photographer was nominated for the Oscar. Frei brought Space Tourists to the Sundance Film Festival, where it made it US Premiere in the World Documentary competition.
Having seen the film, I decided to talk with him about this unusual doc, not expecting him to win the directing award at Sundance this year. Thankfully, it did and so FilmFestivalTravler has this exclusive interview with the filmmaker behind Sundance's top documentary for 2010.
Q: When you look back at the things you’ve done, do you see a consistent thread?
CF: This is a hard question for me. When I choose subjects, and people sometimes do not believe me, but this is a very unconscious thing. I’m just at certain moments convinced this is my next film.
I have never stopped any project; I have never dropped out of any film project. It was always like, “I want to do that.”
Q: What was the thread between the Fidel Castro-related film Ricardo, Miriam y Fidel to War Photographer to the Buddhism film?
CF: I never go like, "I want to go in this direction, probably something about war." No, it’s always the other way around.
Being in Cuba I met this wonderful daughter of a Cuban revolutionary telling me an incredible story. First, she told me that she wants to leave with her family for Miami, but then she told me about her father being some important key of the success, so I knew this was a film.
And with War Photographer I was sitting in a plane, it was just pure coincidence, I was buying a Stern magazine, 12 pages of Afghanistan, black and white, done by James Nachtwey. It knocked me out; I really felt, wow this is incredible, this guy is really focusing on new aspects of war. Then I read the article and after reading it I was convinced, this is my next film.
And then I ended up learning about the Buddha from that. Probably one thing for sure, I don’t think I would ever do a film about [this breakfast cereal].
With Space Tourists, this is for sure, I wanted to do something a little bit lighter. Not totally, but not a comedy, but at least I think it’s something with which you can laugh a little bit. There are funny sides in it.
Q: It's ironic that you’re dealing with this futuristic technology in places that look like they're right out of Soviet realist movies or something that stepped out of the '50s. The s reminded me of the photographic team that does images of industrialist sites — Bernd and Hilla Becher. You have people that have $20 million and they're trusting post-Soviet technology.
CF: It's a paradox, which is of course interesting.
Q: The way you blocked out the movie, you have these distinct sections and elements. How did that evolve?
CF: The biggest problem was because I think the structure is not that complicated. For me, it's simple: You have this main arc, the beauty of this journey. And I feel it’s a beauty; you have this beautiful dream and I wanted of course to also show the absurdity, but it’s a beautiful journey.
Then you have the ground stories, and I needed kind of a guide there and I worked with Jonas Bendiksen because he was living in this region for seven years, he was discovering this crazy story of the space junk collectors, so he was an obvious guide for the ground story.
Then the tricky thing was to get this Romanian guy to fit into the film because that’s kind of a new element. But it’s like a third act sometimes; you can add something, it’s just a little bit tricky.
Q: We have the history of their secrecy, but how does that fit into today’s modern world when they’re trying to sell the tourism to finance their flights? That’s a key issue with your film: the irony of it all.
CF: Space has been propagandized. The space race was about propaganda. It was a very expensive tool. It was about exploration, too, I mean the oldest aspects are true, too, but for me it was interesting to discover that side.
I am a child of the Switzerland that is not neutral in this sense; we are totally between East and West. When I was 10, the Americans went to the moon and I was glued to the TV. One of the reasons why I wanted to make this project is what about the other side of the space race? What about Sputnik?
This whole shock in the Cold War, then the first woman in space; all the successes on the Communist and the Soviet side, what’s left? Because of course the instinct of a documentary filmmaker is to find the economy behind phenomenons.
If I were to do a film [about] the rollercoaster I would not just film the passengers and the adrenaline; I would film the system: the workers, the problems, the struggle, the competition.
So I tried to do the same here, but it's obviously, believe me, not easy. Space is so much linked to military and secrecy. I mean [the Kazakhstan city of] Baikonur [named Leninsk until late 1995] is full of all these rocket launch pads [the West once believed would] destroy the world. So obviously you cannot just go there and film around. Years ago you couldn't even dream of going there with a camera; it didn't exist, it [literally] wasn't on the map.
So I was very proud to have access but it was not easy. Also because it's so expensive, I think that's why, also, NASA controls the message. That's why all the space and rocket fuels look for me a little bit the same: very techno-oriented, rocket-oriented, success-oriented. Which is all true, it's a challenge, it’s very dangerous, but look at the film — it’s a very simple economy.
The banality of, for example, this third seat in the Soyuz [spacecraft]. It’s not in the film because it's a little bit too complicated to explain, but the third seat was always a wild card.
Q: Had it always been there?
CF: Oh, yeah, and they used it, for example, to take the Cuban guy up there. I wouldn't say these were space tourists, but you know what I mean. So to discover that finally, after decades of announcements of, "Just wait a few years and you can lift off with you family, and the dog, and the children, and instead of going to the beach you step into this wonderful, comfortable…."
You know, all these announcements, and now it’s a reality and it's such a banality. It’s just an economic fail, it's a fascinating history but it’s a history of futuristic inventions, not at all. It’s interesting, of course, and it’s a documentary subject all of a sudden, but it was not easy. At the beginning I thought I would never get there.
Q: How did you find half the places where you shot?
CF: I'm so persistent.
Q: You have that one scene with this decaying rocket and there's this old, ancient, decaying apartment building. How did you find it?
CF: It's there, but nobody wants you to film it. For example, when I arrived in Baikonur, I arrived three weeks before liftoff. They were waiting for us at the airport and almost shouting, "What the hell are you doing? The media are supposed to get in three days before liftoff, what are you just doing here?"
Because we had all the necessary papers they couldn't send us back, and they were like, okay we are just here and it’s okay. And then I discovered ways to film, for example, all these houses and all these leftovers of the former successes, like the Buran program, where 40,000 people were forced to leave.
Q: Because they wanted the security right?
CF: Well, no, Buran stopped because it was just too expensive. Gorbachev just said at a certain moment, "This is too much." That’s how the Cold War was finally won; it was just getting too much for them [to afford monetarily]. At a certain moment when the Soviet Union collapsed, two Cosmonauts in the Mir [space station], with their little ukulele instruments, were afraid that there would never be another shuttle picking them up. It's really true; it's not in my film because it's another story, but it's really dramatic.
Q: Focused on this whole Soviet side of it, it's not the picture we all have of space travel and the space program. You're sort of showing the failure of a government-run program on one level.
CF: I don't know if it's a failure. There's so much success in it — it's still operating for Western companies in terms of bringing up satellites.
Q: What kind of computers did they have?
CF: That, they do have. The Soviets don't change anything if it's working, so that'’s why the Soyuz itself is still around. The whole computer system they use in the Soyuz is DOS, but it works.
Q: You’ve got rich people coming to the Soviet Union to fly in spaceships that are basically run on DOS or whatever, and they’re willing to spend $20 million to go out in space because the Americans won't let them. They're privatizing their military to make money. So you have these curious ironies — it's almost like a science-fiction story only it's really happening.
CF: Exactly. But sometimes reality is more absurd or more like outer space than outer space, it's true.
Q: Were you a science-fiction fan?
CF: A little bit but not too much.
Q: Did you notice this whole idea of the beauty in the industrial decay, like with the photos?
CF: Through the topic I hoped to get access to this world, which is a hidden world, it is a forgotten world almost. There are some films but there aren’t too many. This thing is as big as Switzerland, well Switzerland is small, but I mean it's big for a launch pad. You drive for hours sometimes to get to the next launch pad and there are 17 of these launch pads.
Q: It was in the Soviet Union; now it’s a whole other country, Kazahkstan.
CF: It is paid by the Russians. It's an enclave: They pay several billions a year to keep it and the Kazakh want the military out. So it's complicated for the Russians; it's full of history.
Q: It must have been fascinating to get into the mentality.
CF: It is, of course, the key in every documentary film: Everything you film is not only local, it's very concrete and it's dependent on what you anticipate. So you have to know the culture, not only the language. You must translate much more than the language to get access to a culture, to a system.
One of the advantages with the subsidy system we have in Europe is I can just be more patient. Like with space, yes, of course, it was difficult because after being allowed to research it and being out there with these guys and without the camera and looking up in the sky waiting for rockets to fall from the sky, they suddenly told us, like, three weeks before we wanted to shoot that, yes, we can do that, but they will stage the whole work of these guys for us with their military people and secret service members.
One aspect that is not that much in the film because of this problem is that of the rocket and the boosters; they are monitored by the Russian Federal Space Agency, because if there’s something only a little bit wrong with the trajectory, they want to know what problem it was.
And they take out one secret part which they don't want the Chinese to know about. So I was kind of depending on these guys, and they’re telling me, "This is the way you shoot it, we stage it. We want it to look how it should be." And then I told them, "But it's not how it was,” and they were like, "Yeah, we know. But we want it to be presented how it should be."
This is the Russian way of dealing with the media. You cannot argue and say, "It’s not reality," because they’ll say, "Yes, of course, it's not reality. But it should be that way." And then you're lost. This problem was huge, so I told them no, I [wouldn't] take this off. And I tricked them; I said I needed six months.
This [next thing] is really nice — this is a cultural [evolution] that [today] you can do things which four years ago were huge and the[even] CIA needed several hundred people [to accomplish]: With Google Earth, we discovered that exactly during this time they changed the mapping of this steppe, because before it was very challenging because there was nothing. But for some reason they changed it and with really nice resolution. So we printed out the whole region, which was finally a map of [great] size; my assistant needed his parents' huge living room for it. It was like 10 meters by 10 meters.
Then you could see this little sign of tracks, because there are no roads, there's nothing, it's flat. The drop-zone is around 40 to 10 kilometers &,dash; not that big. So we came from the south. Because the drop-zone during a launch itself is also in Russian territory, it gets Russian territory for these two days, so we stayed like four kilometers out of this zone.
Q: So you avoided the Russian zone.
CF: Exactly. They saw us.
Q: They couldn't stop you.
CF: Somehow we cooperated. I cannot tell you exactly how because there’s money involved.
Q: You should have been making a movie about how you made this movie.
CF: Yeah, it’s interesting. That's just how I work; I don't give up, never.
Q: You made the transition from this past to this present and future. You were able to resist the temptation to show a lot more about what the [spacefaring private corporation] Virgin [Galactic] is doing; you have just a little reference. But to see it through the eyes of this Russian way of approaching…
CF: I’m glad you say that because I didn't want to include too much U.S. and Virgin Galactic. First, the access there wouldn't have been easy either, and somehow I just felt this is not a film. So I just included this crazy Romanian guy; he's part of this race.
Q: And the woman is...
CF: She is very much involved in the whole thing because she was the first sponsor with her family, with the $10 million for this prize. What could I have filmed during this time? They were announcing for three years now the space tour, they had this fatal accident before, so as you can see, everything you do with technology is always a risk. It's not really interesting for me; I think it wouldn't really fit.
Q: Aren't you surprised there aren't more accidents?
CF: They didn't begin yet.
Q: I mean overall, in the history of the Russian space program, and even the American space program.
CF: It's a risk of 1% fatality. 1% is big; normally with a sport it's much less.
Q: Did you try on one of the spacesuits yourself?
CF: Yeah. They are heavy. And another curiosity was that I wanted Anousheh to bring the spacesuit to Sundance, so I asked her very politely and said I would cover all the costs, because this is a heavy thing. The cost to produce it is $100,000, I know that, and you cannot use it for any other guy; every spacesuit, obviously, is exact.
She said, "My spacesuit is in Moscow," and I asked why. "Well, because they asked me to pay another million for it." It’'s true; I swear to God. It's a rip-off; they are really over the edge.
Q: She never feels guilty for spending so much money on this indulgent dream?
CF: No. She's writing now her autobiography, and Homer Hickam [author of Rocket Boys] is the co-author. It will be released March 2 and you can read her story. It's a very honest story, and she helps people.
Q: Have you ever heard the term “future-primitive”? There’s a sort of future-primitive quality, futuristic-retro, to this film.
CF: I wanted this paradox in the poster because I wanted people to be aware of the curiosity that this is something different than the usual rockets.
Q: I thought the music was an interesting choice because it was both contemporary and yet travelistic.
CF: Another choice was this Russian composer, Edward Artemiev. He is a pioneer of electronic music, and he was the composer of the famous films by [director Andei] Tarkosvky, Solaris and Stalker. Somehow there was an influence because I thought, I don't want Baikonur just to be presented like a deserted area that's nothing but wind and some camels. I think there was so much going on here, every week there was a rocket, so I wanted to feel this. I choose my music in the very early stage of the filmmaking; I underline the pictures with music.
Q: I believe strongly in the space program, and I believe in commercialization of space; I believe it's important that we go into space for the evolution of culture. But when you watch this movie you wonder whether it doesn't feel a little bit more absurd on some level. I had mixed feelings about the film's ultimate conclusion, that there's this beauty of it and this sort of charm, but also this weird naïveté.
CF: I think this naïveté is my statement, because I feel, yes, what I want to say is that you cannot keep this any longer as that simple. We know now. How come it was announced for decades, and even [Stanley] Kubrick in his 2001: A Space Odyssey press kit was stating that what he's showing is the future. [I believe] it will be totally, exactly like that in 2001. Like this comfortable spaceship — he was sure that this will be a reality.
Q: He was right, but it's just not quite the right date.
CF: Come on, I mean, look at the tubes now in the ISS.
Q: You don't think that by 2050 space travel will be commonplace?
CF: I think I lost this naïveté.
Q: Because you see the difficulties.
CF: It's 40 years now. More. It was announced in the '60s and you had this climax of this fantasy.
Q: I think their problem was they were living in a fantasy. This movie is more about the reality.
CF: Yeah, exactly, but that's why I think, for example, yes, you can do space tourism in a few years, for sure. It will always be expensive to get somebody into orbit, because you need this huge speed of 27,000 miles an hour, and you have to speed this down and you cannot do that with small computers, you need heavy things, and it heats you up so much.
Q: We need to go with the Star Trek vision; develop the transporters, take the technology up into space, build up there, and use the transporters. You're from a country that has the largest particle accelerator.
CF: 'm aware of that; I love it.
Q: The Swiss are sort of this old, conservative, classic European, and yet there's this other side to it.
CF: Switzerland has nothing; we don't have anything in the ground. We have only our brains. We have a very high level of education, for example, and a broader one than you have in the U.S.
Q: Do you want to go into space?
CF: If I were very rich, yes.... The film dreams will be bigger than the space dreams.
Q: Sell sponsorships on your suit.
CF: The Romanian guy, it's obvious he won’'t get to the moon with this. That’s why I'm fascinated by this because it's also fantasy.
Q: When you made this film, did you feel that now that you've done it you're going to continue to stay on top of it, or you want to look completely away from it?
CF: No, because I'm so slow. One of the big advantages is everything is inside me doesn’t just go away. When there's news about Cuba I have a feeling for it beyond journalistic approach, because I can smell it, I was for months living there and I know about this revolution. So when it will be over, I will be very much concerned. Exactly the same with Afghanistan and now with the space thing. I love this, that I am able to research so excessively.
Q: You get yourself really passionate about it. Would you like to see that they would finally open this up so people can see these old locations?
CF: Actually, there is some tourism.
Q: I had no idea. How about meeting the old cosmonauts?
CF: They live in Star City, for example, [which] s not in Kazakhstan, like some in the U.S. were writing. Star City is close to Moscow, Russia. [Star City] is the training center. There are hundreds of these guys living there still.
Q: So you had the chance to talk and meet with all of them?
CF: Some of them, yeah. Like the first woman in space.
Q: And the first private woman in space. It's interesting how we don't always give the Russians credit, but in that area they really had some innovations that the Americans couldn't deal with.
CF: It's just the bloody moon landing they didn't get, from their point of view. They were feeling even superior in the first stage of the space race.
Q: What do you feel about space travel? What do you think is going to happen?
CF: I think we will see a commercialization of space because they are discovering [minerals] on the moon, I don’t know exactly…
Q: They're talking about organic substances and also about deposits in pure form.
CF: So I think this is just the first stage of the commercialization of space.
Q: So then would you go up when you could do so for twenty grand?
CF: I'm not that sure if this will include what Anousheh is doing and will be affordable, because now I know so much about the needs and physics of it. It's also a paradox of history; look at the successes in space exploration of the last five years. Most of them were unmanned; it's the robots fascinating us on Mars with all these beautiful pictures and all this exploration. More and more, manned space exploration was more and more criticized.
Q: What's next for you? You get so intensively involved in a subject, how do you wrench yourself out of it to go on to the next thing?
CF: Now I have three important festivals behind me. I have to do some more but mostly because I want to see other people's work. I'm already working on my next subject which, unfortunately for you, I cannot tell you. But I'm in the midst of it because [Space Tourists] for me is now, in terms of filmmaking, it's past. I’m working on a short version, I will work on a DVD version, but this is not the core of it.
Q: Because you’re already now a successful documentary filmmaker with an Oscar nomination it probably makes certain filmmaking things easier in terms of access.
CF: Space Tourist wasn't easy at all. The Russians are not very much impressed. What I do is I don't often tell them I'm a filmmaker, and I'm allowed to do that: I tell them I'm a journalist from Swiss TV, because that makes access much easier. [If you say you're a filmmaker, then] you have somebody from the ministry [assigned to you] and then you’re lost. My reputation helps me to raise the money a little bit but it's still a struggle.
Q: Did you get to take back any space junk with you?
CF: I have some. I was a bit afraid at customs because I knew how much secrecy there is about.
Q: Because this is a bit lighter a subject for you, do you think it will get the same kind of attention that you’ve gotten in the past?
CF: War Photographer got the most attention. The Giant Buddhas got a lot, too, because it was in the festival circuit, and here in the U.S. my films are on the documentary channels and HBO and then on Netflix, which is also important. I'm not expecting American families to go watch these films in the movie theaters, so I would be happy for a small theatrical release in New York and then DVD and TV.
Q: Did the Oscar nomination make anything easier for you? Did it make a difference?
CF: It helps, of course, because it's such a label. And it's still a label and remains a label, and the interesting thing is people are more aware of the documentary branch, which perhaps 15 years ago no one cared about. I feel that in documentary filmmaking there's so much energy. We do have the feeling that we have a broader range of expression than in fiction.
We have mainstream documentaries now, which I like. Not all these films should look the same. It’s just important that the audience knows there’s another way of presenting reality other than through the normal journalistic narration.
For more by Brad Balfour: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brad-balfour
From vampire hematologist in the recently released Daybreakers to inspired director grappling with the first revival of a Sam Shepard play, the 39 year old Ethan Hawke has a life full of artistic endeavors that would make several careers. An Oscar-nominated actor, a film and theater director, a successful fiction writer, and a family man (with ex-wife Uma Thurman), he's a well-respected personality who is relatively unassuming and gracious in person.
In Daybreakers, Hawke plays scientist Edward Dalton, who directs the effort to find a substitute for the blood that vampires must consume, since most of the planetary population has become infected with a vampirism and is consuming humans at a rate faster than humans can be reproduced or the blood supply be replenished.
Now in previews, the Texan-born, East Coast raised Hawke directs a revival of A Lie of the Mind, Shepard's Drama Desk Award-winning 1985 play about emotionally scarred young men and the damaged women in their lives set in the West. Opening February 18, 2010, at the Acorn Theater, this production by The New Group stars Marin Ireland, Keith Carradine, Frank Whaley, Laurie Metcalf and Josh Hamilton. In a recent roundtable interview, Hawke talks about both his science-fiction/horror film and this new Off-Broadway work.
Q: What are your favorite horror films?
EH: For me, probably the biggest reason I ended up doing this movie was that [Aussie twin brothers-directors/writers] Peter and Michael Spierig have the same passion and love for movies. When I made my first movie with Joe Dante [1985's The Explorers], he was coming out of working for [director/producer] Roger Corman, and he had directed The Howling, and Piranha, and Gremlins. I was 13, or 14 years old being taught about movies by this guy who is a huge film fanatic and film historian. He’s got a Scorsese/Tarantino like brain for movies. He’s a terrific, amazing, passionate person, and very interested in the power of movies — you can make a movie like The Howling, where it's about werewolves, but there’s an allegory underneath it. He taught me about why [director] John Carpenter was brilliant. And these guys have the same passion and the same love for those kinds of movies, and they wrote a script that was incredibly original.
I’ve done one other movie that I would really call a genre movie, which was [2005's] Assault on Precinct 13, a remake of a [1976] Carpenter movie, and I love John Carpenter. They understand what the old school B-movie is supposed to be, and I thought that it would be really fun to be in one and to try to get into that mode.
Q: As a fan of horror films, were there any specific vampire characters that you drew on?
EH: The biggest one was actually things that I’d seen not work. In a lot of vampire movies — I can’t believe I’m talking about this — but a lot of vampires people start playing that they’re dead and they go dead behind the eyes or something. They become kind of boring.
If you're not the diabolical evil vampire that Willem [Dafoe] played so well in Shadow of the Vampire, it's difficult to give them any spark. That was more my big fear: how to have that haze of depression that you would imagine would come with one day being exactly like the next forever and ever, and not have the movie be boring.
Q: Did your theater chops help you with performing in this?
EH: I'd like to think so. I like to like that guys like Peter and Michael hire Willem and me because we have a lot of experience with storytelling and first-time directors don't really want to teach anybody about acting. It's one of the small benefits of getting older.
Q: So what's up with A Lie of the Mind?
EH: I just left rehearsal. It's going [really well]; I'm doing Sam Shepard’s A Lie of the Mind with a great company of people, The New Group. It's awesome. It hasn't been done in New York in a long time and I’ve always wanted to do it, so I'm getting a chance to now.
Q: What attracted you to directing that particular piece?
EH: It's a long story, but I got to do [the Shepard play] Buried Child with Gary Sinise [in a production by Chicago's acclaimed] Steppenwolf [Theatre Company], and I got to do [Shepard's] The Late Henry Moss, directed by Joe Chaikin [the founder of The Open Theatre, who died in 2003] here in New York.
The combination of Chaikin and Steppenwolf are two very different schools of thought on Sam Shepard and what his work is about. I was deeply affected by both of them and it made me want to try my own theories about it.
Q: Is your style of directing theater different from doing a film?
EH: Not for me. I come at all this as an actor, whether it's writing or directing, [film or theater]. I'm interested in acting and other types of directors are interested in other things; they’re interested in style or noir or horror or whatever. None of that really is, as a director, something I know enough about.
Q: Getting back to this movie, what was the best and worst thing about wearing the vamp contacts and fangs?
EH: This is going to be a serious answer. When I was younger I hated things like any kind of makeup or accents or any kind of artifice in performance. The best thing was that, as I've been getting older… The older I get, the more I’ve been enjoying it and realize there’s this whole other door[way] to performance. It’s fun; I don’t know how to explain it more than that.
The worst thing was that I loved my fangs because they were fitted to my real teeth, and I could put them on and they were really cool for parties and things like that, but my daughter borrowed them for Halloween and she took them off and she accidentally dropped them down the sink and they're gone forever. And they were pearl and they were so cool. Kids today.
Q: Did you see any parallels between Daybreakers and your 1997 science-fiction movie Gattaca?
EH: Yes, certainly. I think [the Spierigs] really liked Gattaca.The parallels really exist in the look of the film; I noticed it as we were doing it. What Gattaca did that was so smart was that there was something retro about it; it was a futuristic movie that was retro. The cars looked older, the costumes looked like they were form the past, and that seemed more realistic than spacesuits and stuff like that.
This movie has the same quality; in the beginning I imagine my character like Humphrey Bogart or something in a film noir. The combination of film noir with vampire is cool.
The [Spierigs] get the throwback of it. They didn't do the vampires with a computer; they did it with a makeup guy. I mean, they did other things with a computer but it's a little bit of a throwback. We couldn't begin to have the budget to be competitive with what people can do with visual effects today so we had to kind of embrace being a B-movie and be the best version of that.
Q: I can't imagine you had to do that scene more than once where the human explodes —.
EH: It’s disgusting. I remember saying to Peter and Michael when I’m dripping in blood, "This movie better be good." When you understand the sense of humor of those old school genre movies, to be honest that’s what makes you love Peter and Michael. And I think what makes the movie really special is they have that old-school sense of humor.
Q: What would you do differently if you could live your life without fear of death?
EH: I would smoke all the time and I would ride a motorcycle everywhere. Other than that, I don't know what I'd do.
Q: You don't smoke in real life?
EH: No. But that was a part of me that I thought it would be funny if the character was always smoking until he turns into a human being. Then you want to live longer.
Q: Do you think you'd make a good vampire?
EH: Is that a come on?
Q: Your character is a scientist; did you do any research into hematology?
EH: I am a hematology expert. I went to med school for a year to play a vampire in this movie [laughs]. No. There’s something hysterical to me about playing a vampire hematologist. The character description is hysterical. But I didn't stay up for weeks and learn about all the blood.
Q: You weren't concerned about the coming vampire plague?
EH: No, no I wasn't. I could imagine that fear.
Q: You were one of the soft vampires who didn't really want to be a vampire.
EH: A peacenik vampire. It's a certain challenge in a movie, which I kind of like, which is to be in the middle of an action movie as a person who doesn't really want to fight. I thought there was something unique to that, that I enjoyed.
I always loved seeing Indiana Jones as the professor; I always loved that element of Raiders [of the Lost Ark] where you really felt like he didn't really want to be doing all these things. That was something I could play because I get bored of all this superhero stuff; it's more fun to watch a person struggle with violence than somebody who knows what the right thing to do is all the time.
Q: Did you think of your character as a vegetarian?
EH: I did. I thought of him as a person who worked for PETA who got forced into trying to help the slaughterhouse. He has a lot of really valid points; that whole part of the movie I love.
Q: What other things hit home for you personally with the metaphor the film presents?
EH: The movie operates as an allegory but if I talked too much about it it would be ridiculous. It’s not Schindler's List. it’s a vampire movie. It just happens to also have a great undercurrent of destroying your natural resources. Everything they're saying about the humans could go for the polar ice caps or the oil industry or the meat industry; you can insert whatever you want.
How would you feel about it if it were your own daughter? That's very relevant all the time. Nobody cares about the illegal immigrants but if it's their own child. Nobody cares about the jail system until somebody [they know] is incarcerated. That's the kind of stuff I love.
Q: The dynamic between you and your brother character offered an interesting side note. Did it intrigue you or make you think about would you turn someone vampiric if you had that power?
EH: That's the most interesting element of the movie. That scene itself… It's like in the original Blade movie, what really makes that movie work is there’s this one little scene that makes you care about the relationship between Wesley Snipes and Kris Kristofferson. And because of that one scene you actually care about the characters and follow the story.
In the bad genre movies you don't care about anybody and they just try to wow you with blood or heads popping off. The heads popping off isn't cool if you don't care. So I agree with you completely in the idea that one brother would feel really guilty about turning his brother, but also know that he was going to die if he didn't get turned; that’s kind of fascinating to daydream about.
Q: Have you theorized about vampires?
EH: I know why I like vampires, and it's the same reason why all the 11-year olds like vampires. I remember the first time I spent the night over at a friend’s house, being about 11 years old, and staying up late — this is, sadly, pre-VCRs and everything like that — and on late-night TV there came on Nosferatu with Isabelle Adjani, and she was so beautiful.
What the Twilight thing has captured so completely, and Interview with the Vampire tried to do, too, is [to showcase] the sensuality [of vampires], and that there's something weirdly sexual about vampires. But what's cool about this movie is that it's not that; it's bringing it back to an old-school horror film that has somehow turned new.
Q: You loved Nosferatu because you thought Isabelle Adjani was hot?
EH: When you repeat it back to me it sounds so stupid [laughs]. I sound like such an idiot. I was hypnotized by Klaus Kinski and Isabelle Adjani; there was something so weird about watching him bite her neck that attacks her dreams, and has been for generations.
Q: Have you seen the other vampire stuff that’s out now like True Blood or Twilight?
EH: I’ve seen Twilight. My daughter is a huge fan so I've watched that several times. I like it.
Q: Did you watch it before doing this movie?
EH: No, that came out after we did our thing. What I was most impressed by were things like… I like the first two Blade films, actually, a lot; I think they're really cool. It's difficult to do a genre film well; it doesn't matter if it's vampires or Dawn of the Dead or The Thing. One of my favorites is John Carpenter’s The Thing with Kurt Russell, or Escape from New York. Kurt Russell’s a good model; he was always really good in these ridiculous movies.
Q: Have you met Carpenter? He’s a great, cranky interview. I loved talking to him.
EH: Oh, no, I never have. How so?
Q: He’s unrepentant in certain things he’ll say about the state of the business. What do you think about the remakes that have come out lately?
EH: It seems like my whole career there's a whole parallel universe where everybody's just remaking things. But I think that's just throughout history. If you do it well, if you reinvent something and make it new, it's exciting, and if you don't, then it's tedious.
Q: Does making this movie influence your next book?
EH: No. But it does interest me, I would like to write a graphic novel. I love that stuff; I have a whole other part of my brain that does that so I would love to if I could work with a graphic artist.
Q: What would that premise be?
EH: I have it in my noodle and I'm not sharing.
Q: Do you have Oscar picks?
EH: I haven’t even seen enough movies. I don't think I've ever voted for anything that’s been nominated.
A Lie of the Mind
Acorn Theater
410 West 42nd Street
212-279-4200
http://www.thenewgroup.org/
For more by Brad Balfour: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brad-balfour