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Article by: Dave O Butnu
Canadian sisters, Jen and Sylvia Soksa are making waves in the world of indie horror. With their debut, Dead Hooker In A Trunk, only just reaching its release on DVD in the UK, they are already working on their next project, American Mary. Luckily, the Soska Sisters were able to take some time out of production to talk to subtitledonline.com…
Your first film, Dead Hooker In A Trunk, has just come out on DVD after a pretty successful run on the horror festival circuit. I understand that you’ve been working on it for over 3 years now, so how does it feel to let it loose on the world after all the hard work?
Sylvia: It feels so wonderful that it doesn't seem like reality. Working on this film, we had to face a lot of challenges and use our resources to work around those. We're so used that process that to have it finally out and world distribution just around the corner is a hugely humbling honour. I'm very grateful to the horror community that has really gotten behind the film and made it get to this point. It's a testament to the power of the people and I'm so happy they dug the flick.
Jen: Everything with our Dead Hooker In A Trunk has been surreal. It's an incredible feeling to be a filmmaker with a released film. When you start out, you're just so damn excited to be making a film. There is so much more that goes into filmmaking than just the making of the film in the first place. Not enough people talk about what a struggle it is to get your film out there after it is completed. The festival circuit goes a long way in getting your film seen. It's the people and their response to the film that is the most vital. I can't even begin to say how grateful we are to have been embraced by the horror community.
The film has a very ‘exploitation’ style title, and when watching Dead Hooker… I know that you’re both fans of Grindhouse, but I couldn’t help thinking of Troma as well. Did you consciously draw on these sorts of influences?
Sylvia: There is such a huge misconception that only certain people with a certain amount of money can make movies in a very certain way. That's bulls**t. People with very modest budgets have been making cool flicks since film first began. Troma and the old Grindhouse films of yesterday aren't great because they are flashy, expensive, studio opuses - they were great because of the heart that is put into the work. You can't buy that.
We have loved horror films since childhood - we started at the ripe old age of 9, although the fascination was always there - and we were getting frustrated with what we were seeing in the theatres. I remember talking to Jen and saying that Grindhouse was the first time in a long time that I was excited to go to the movies. We wanted to make something that we would like to see in a theatre and that was the idea that fuelled Dead Hooker In A Trunk.
Jen: The whole Grindhouse style lends itself to indie filmmaking. Having said that, doing a film in the Grindhouse style doesn't mean you can cut corners and get away with making a crappy movie. On the contrary, a Grindhouse film, because they can be done so effectively with a modest budget, are very carefully critiqued. Make sure you have intentional camera work, sharp editing and good actors. Bad acting will instantly ruin your film even if everything else is flawless. It's a big part of why most people are reluctant to even watch an independent film with ‘no name’ actors. As sh***y as it is, people want to see name actors in your films for that very reason. Any indie filmmaker trying to get their film out there can tell you one of the first things anyone asks about your film, especially festivals, reviewers, and distributors, is "who's in it?"
But I digress... We did want to make our film Grindhouse style. We wanted Dead Hooker In A Trunk to be larger than life and that's another thing that the Grindhouse style is really great for. DHIAT is our own take on Grindhouse. We had talked a bit during the making of the film about doing the degraded film with lines running through it, but it took more away from the film than anything else.
Towards the end of Dead Hooker… one of you says something like, “I can’t believe that there were no bad consequences for all of this!” Was it quite liberating to make a movie without teaching everyone a lesson in morals?
Sylvia: You can have morals in a film without preaching at people. I hate watching a film and then having the filmmaker's opinion forced down my throat. Film - like all art - should be open to interpretation. There are tender moments in DHIAT but the overall feeling is fun and loose. No character is just good or just bad. There are too many films where the protagonist has to be this sinless perfect person and that is just not how people work. I really enjoyed the twenty-something b**tard characters that led the adventure. It really did feel liberating to write flawed people who, despite those flaws, had very endearing qualities.
We wanted to have the cast go through all sorts of over the top insanity and, in the end, the only real change in circumstance is the growth in the relationships between the group in seeking peace for the hooker - a stranger in an occupation that is often looked at as less than human. They try to do right by her and that's sweet in a very demented way.
Jen: One of the things said about the film that I am most proud of is "you find yourself falling for these lovable characters despite them never really doing anything lovable." I agree fully with what Sylvie said. I hate those intentional sweet moments that are shoved down our throats more often than not accompanied by some sentimental music. It's insulting to an audience much like a laugh track. We are free to feel however we like about whatever we like. It's degrading to tell your audience "this is the sad part" or "you're supposed to laugh here.”
When we set out to make Dead Hooker In A Trunk we more than anything wanted to make a film that is pure enjoyment for our audiences. Don't you hate that feeling when you leave a theatre and you feel so humiliated for having paid and gone out to see yet another steaming pile of crap that you hope no-one sees you there? I know I do. There may be fewer people going to the theatres these days, but who can really blame them? We wanted to make a film that would get people excited to see it. It started with the title and built from there. It was very liberating to make a film however we liked with whatever story we wanted and with whoever we pleased. We wanted to make a WTF film, and I would humbly say that we have done exactly that.
If people watching your films choose to walk out, do you look at it as more of a triumph or does it hurt your feelings? I love Dead Hooker…, but it must go without saying that some people wouldn’t have the patience for such a relentless movie.
Sylvia: I saw Bob Saget doing stand up in town a few weeks back and people walked out over some jokes that seemed tame to me. But I'm a terrible judge of what people will find offensive. At first, it bothered me when I heard of people walking out, but it's their choice to do so and you can't push your interests on people. That said, we thought the title of the film was ample warning for what they were walking into.
What I do like is the few times I've been in a darkened theatre, watching a horror, and seeing people get so scared from something in the film that they run out screaming. Fear is very interesting to me. I understand what can make something scary, but often I don't find those feelings in myself when watching films. My mother explained horror to me very straight forward when we were young: everything you see on the screen is created by talented artists with the intention of scaring you. So, what can be threatening about that?
One day, I want to create that. That moment that is so horrific in a film that an audience member, despite knowing better, runs screaming out of the theatre because of something we created. I just think that means your work truly touched someone. Not everyone has to run out, screaming, but it would be nice.
Jen: I guess it would depend on why they were walking out of our film. Everyone deserves a bathroom break. Seriously, though, I am surprised when someone is offended by the film. It is just as comedic as it is horrific and, before you even realise it, it gets actually quite touching and sweet. One of the many things that our title does is give our audiences a taste of what they're in for. If you don't giggle like a school girl at a Bieber concert when you first hear it, chances are it's not your cup of tea. I don't expect everyone to love our film. There is no-one film universally loved by everyone. Even films considered classics or one of the greats aren’t loved by everyone. If you start making your work for everyone, you're going to end up with something no-one will enjoy.
There are a lot of contrasts between the characters in Dead Hooker…, most notably the two ‘goodies’ and two ‘baddies’ in the main group of four. Is this theme of duality something that lies closer to your hearts, being twins? Do you get a lot of people assuming that you’re exactly the same as each other?
Sylvia: Relationships between people and the internal conflict of good and evil within individuals fascinate me. We started with two 'goodies' and two 'baddies', but, as the story progresses, you see that these stereotypes have different dimensions. We wanted to play around with that and have contrasting character aspects. Badass was rivalled by her twin Geek. Both are hot-headed and stubborn, but in different ways. Junkie was rivalled by Goody Two-Shoes, as both had this innocent outlook on the world but from two polar opposites of the spectrum. I see people putting a significant amount of faith in stereotypes - that probably came from being born as a twin which comes with preconceived notions of this and that - and I wanted to play with those thoughts and put them on their head a bit.
Jen: We've heard every twin joke, comment, and question you could ever imagine. More often than not, "Which one's the evil twin?" Probably both of us. Being Catholic, we've always had this fascination with good and evil. We divided our four heroes into very definitive stereotypes, but wanted to break those stereotypes, or at very least throw them into question, by the end of the film. Goody in particular has a very distinctive character arc. You can see his breaks in his armour, so to speak, throughout the film, and he more than proves his incredible strength by the end of the whole bloody affair.
We realised that we'd be expected to do a good job of it, seeing as we are real life sisters and that has to come into play on camera. We work very well together. We are two very different people, but we think the same and understand one another. Duality is fascinating to us.
Have there been any issues with censors around the world, now that the movie is being released? Did Dead Hooker… get banned or cut anywhere?
Sylvia: We got extremely lucky with this film in the respect that we maintained creative control over the entire project without having to fight for our content. I'm actually surprised it didn't get more backlash. The only banning happened over the title without the film being watched, so I think people don't have a problem with the content. It got an 18+ rating, but it has extreme language, violence and full frontal male nudity, so that was expected.
Jen: The film is available in its entirety and I am so happy about it. I absolutely detest censorship. I feel that not only is it bulls**t to tell someone what they can or cannot watch and remove the opportunity for them to even decide for themselves, but it breeds ignorance. Just because you don't see something doesn't mean it doesn't exist. How are we ever supposed to deal with real horror in our lives? If someone is attacked and raped, they can't just cut to the next day. They have to be there. Art imitates life. When violence and horror disappear from reality, then it would be appropriate to remove those aspects from film.
If anyone under 18 is reading this, I'm sorry we couldn't lower our rating so you could grab a copy of DHIAT or see it. I hope you still find a way and I hope it inspires you to go out and make your own films. I sincerely mean that. DOB
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Exiled Iranian film director Rafi Pitts is motivated just as much by the aesthetic beauty of Cinema as its political power. Having made his name in France with Sanam (2000), hailed as “the Iranian 400 Blows,” Pitts has consolidated himself as one of the Middle East’s most prominent film makers with Golden Bear Nominee It’s Winter (2006) and his latest film The Hunter (2010), for which he managed to return to Iran to film it.
subtitledonline.com spoke with Rafi to discuss the recently released The Hunter, censorship - and Cinema Paradiso…
What was your inspiration behind The Hunter?
It comes from several sources I suppose (he drawls out nonchalantly through puffs of his cigarette – QA) - y’know when you have an idea there is not just one reason, but I would say that one of the primary reasons was that I wanted to make a film that spoke to a young generation living in a very young country. The majority of the country is under the age of 30 and I wanted to make a film from that point of view that broke down the boundaries of realism and asked some questions.
In the film itself, there is a huge preoccupation with sound and image more than words. Was this something you did on purpose?
Yes. It’s a symbol of the character not being able to express himself. That’s why he reacts the way he does within the film. It has to be believable as someone who can’t express themselves losing everything and becoming unstable. However, I do feel that in the film – you know a lot of people say there isn’t much dialogue – but I say it’s full of dialogue because sound is a form of dialogue; y’know sound always suggests what an image is, whereas an image never suggests what a sound is. And I used a lot of sound because you can do or say a lot with it and give the impression of a feeling, and you can also add tension to the film. It’s more subtle in a way than normal dialogue because it plays on the mind of an audience without telling them what is going on.
There is an obvious split in the film, the first half is certainly very art house whereas the second half changes and becomes more tense or psychological. Would you say this is a fair observation?
Yes, sure, I mean when you make a film, you don’t want to make it one-dimensional because all the films I like in the history of cinema have had several readings to them. So here, too, there is a political dimension, there is what I call a neo-realist western dimension, and there’s a classical tragic story of a man who is simply out for revenge. So you sort of try and give it as many layers and dimensions as possible so the audience can choose which dimension they want to see, and they will choose one depending on their own personality and experiences.
In the film, there are quite a lot of shots of cars, motorways and symbols of modern technology…
Yes, this was definitely my intention. I wanted to make it clear that I was speaking of the feelings of today, and that’s why I started off with that music and a picture from the Iranian revolution. You know the majority of the population wasn’t even born at the time of the revolution and today people are asking themselves why did we even have one, and what were the consequences of this revolution. So, it’s a backdrop to the film if you like and then, sure, the film takes its own course, but it was also a warning to what might happen if we can’t express ourselves.
Exactly what were you warning the newer generation against then?
What I try to do as a filmmaker is hold up a mirror to what is going on in society. And today in Iran, what’s going on in our society is that we don’t have that much time to live. You know the economical dire straits we’re living in, we have very little left, and I was trying to portray what would happen if the little we have left, such as spending time with our family, was taken away with us, and how we would react upon that. So, in that sense, it concerns a lot of people in Iran - we’ve become ticking time bombs because of the way the system is trying to rule us.
Do you think you were successful with this then?
(Pauses) Success isn’t something you should ask us filmmakers (he laughs – QA), but the success for me is on the viewers’ point of view. But really, it was a miracle that we managed to make the film over there in Iran. You know, really, to get the authorization to shoot such a film only came about because, at the time, the Ministry of Censorship thought that Iran was about to change, open or reform, and I think that’s why we managed to shoot the film. So had we not shot the film in that particular space of time, we would never have been able to shoot it. Had we tried three years earlier, I don’t think they would have given us permission, had we tried to shoot it after the riots in June 2009, it would have been impossible, so it was in that case a success. There is this expression I like you know where they say “luck is where opportunity meets preparation,” so there was definitely that going on I think.
How difficult is it then to make a film with the censorship laws on directors?
Extremely difficult, but having said that, we used to say it was difficult before June 2009 and sure it was! But now, though, it’s become practically impossible…
As you might have heard, two of our filmmakers, who are also two friends of mine - Jafar Panahi and Mohammad Rasoulof - have both been given a prison sentence for an idea of a film they wanted to make. It’s not even a film that they’ve made! They wanted to reflect on what had happened during those riots and for that they’ve been charged with six year prison sentences, twenty years not allowed to leave the country and twenty years of not being allowed to practise their profession. So that gives you an idea of what’s facing the Iranian film industry at the moment.
You wrote an open letter last year to Ahmedinejad about this. Do you think this sort of behaviour will continue then?
I don’t think it’s going to continue because I can’t see how a government can have the false pretence of thinking they can stop young people being who they are. If you look at the history of the world, you’ll see the beauty of youth and that it knows how to take care of itself, and they’ll go and get it if it’s not at hand to them.
Today, in Iran, people feel that their future has been taken away from them, that they have nothing left, so people will go out and get it. It’s very natural the youth are full of enthusiasm and they want to have a future, so they will go out and get it. The question is, will it take one year, or ten? Obviously, we want this to happen as soon as possible, we want to move forward, and we want this to happen, of course, without the threat of violence.
The protests that have happened in Egypt and elsewhere, can you see that happening in Iran?
Yes, I can (he pauses, and the mood has evidently shifted, with more weight, lengthier pauses and consideration behind each word – QA). For every woman man and child in Iran, if you feel you are being stopped of having something, what are you going to do? You’re going to go out and try to get it. So I don’t think there is any way of stopping that. I don’t think people are just going to be resigned to their fate anymore - people need to go out and…get their future. You know, it’s a very natural thing that’s happening right now.
Going back to the film, there’s a particular scene near the end of the film where the two policemen have a little squabble. What were you getting at here, was it highlighting a contrast between young and old, criticism of the corrupt system, or something else?
It was a symbol of what our society has become. The fact that there is a conflict between those two police officers shows you the diversity of what we’re dealing with and how much a uniform is only the cover of a book; you have to ‘read’ the book to know what’s going on because the cover won’t tell you. I wanted to show the discrepancies in the system because one of the police officers is very much for capital punishment whilst the other is a humanitarian very much against it, so already this shows up the contrasts in the systems and the quarrels that can exist within it.
So, was this a message to people not to judge the police and the system as all bad then?
I’ve never been keen in giving messages because I come from a country where they are giving us messages all the time! For me it’s always been about giving the audience the freedom of choice (he leans back and starts to relax with a glint in his eye – QA). Of course, you give them a narrative and, of course, you offer them a story, but I always tend to think of a film as a…okay, let me put it like this: in Iran, when we invite guests over for dinner, we place in front of them at the table several dishes, but we never tell them what they should eat; we leave them the choice of what they want to eat in whatever order. In my films, I try to offer them the same sort of choice; I give different dimensions and expect some people to take up one angle or perspective and certain other people another. If you look at the end of the film, there are several readings and I’ve never liked full stops but three dots to leave it open. For me it’s a way of respecting the audience.
What were your influences as a child that made you want to become a director?
Well, when I was younger, in Iran we saw a lot of American films from the 1970s that influenced us. Obviously, we saw them all dubbed in Persian, so not in English, and even older films by John Ford with John Wayne and (he starts to chuckle wistfully – QA) I remember the first time I heard John Wayne speak in English and I freaked out because I couldn’t believe this was the guy I’d known for years! I’d known him as this Iranian wise guy and now he was American. So, cinema, of course, influenced me, but also I lived under the post production studio in Tehran, so, obviously, I spent a lot of my childhood with editors in the offices above and I never felt like I was ever out of the film industry or that I was ever going to do anything outside of cinema.
Sounds like Cinema Paradiso…
I know right! (he smiles wildly and takes excited puffs of his cigarette and continues animatedly - QA). But Cinema Paradiso is maybe a more romantic and idealised version.
Yeah, well I lived with my mother as a child, and she was only 17 years older than me. The reason why we lived under the post production studio was because she felt there would be people there who could look out for me. And then, over time, those people became my family in a way, so that’s why I’m still now so attached to the Iranian film industry.
Now that you live in France, what cultural differences do you notice then between the different Arab Diaspora’s; like, for example, the Maghreb who live in France and those who’ve stayed in Iran?
You know, we all come from different cultural backgrounds; I think it’s unfair to just label people as from ‘the Arab world’. I find it such a strange thing to say because the Arab world is such a diverse world. It’s like an Iranian saying the ‘European world’ when there is so much diversity even in Europe, from France to England to even other places. Also, with language, too, I mean in Iran, we speak Persian, so is that the Arab world? Let’s say then that people mean the ‘Muslim’ world – well even there are so many differences in the countries. So there’s a great diversity and by trying to simplify it is like trying to simply Europe – it’s not possible.
Does it annoy you then when people from the West label everything from the Middle East together?
It doesn’t annoy me as such, because you get that from both sides. People tend to want to simplify things because they feel that by simplifying things, they’ll understand it better – but I just think that the beauty of humanity is its depth and the surface is just the surface. Once you acknowledge the depth and difference in cultures things get interesting. I mean even if you were to look at nationalities, I’ve never really met anyone in England who for me completely represents what is English. An individual comes from a cultural background, his own personal background and becomes what they are, and that’s what’s fascinating. We have a tendency, though, to simplify individuals to represent their nationalities, which I don’t think is right.
So, let’s talk about the future of Iranian directors. Can you see a new younger generation of filmmakers coming through behind you? Is there a future for Iranian Cinema?
Well, that’s what was about to happen before all of these events took place in a way. Our cinema, which the world knows as Iranian neo-realism, became more anti-social realism, and became more aggressive with the way we looked at things and the way we would approach our problems in society. At the beginning of all this, there was the film No One Knows About The Persian Cats and there were a lot of films out there being made to point out the points of view of the younger generation (he starts to regain his confidence and previous manner apparent through a louder voice – QA), and I don’t think that now it’s going to stop. It might have come to a sudden stop now, but it’s only natural that artists and filmmakers and young people will find ways of expressing themselves. Now film might take on a modern and new dimension, but I don’t think that Iranian cinema will stop simply because the government wants it to stop. And, in fact, as you probably notice, as soon as a government wants to put a stop to something, this only gives the artist or filmmaker more enthusiasm and drive to make it because an artist doesn’t have any other choice. That’s his profession, that’s his being and you can’t stop people from…being.
What’s the future for you then? Have you got any more ideas in the pipeline?
There are ideas, yes, of course. I’d like to go back to Iran and make another film. I hope (he stresses – QA) I can go back to Iran and make another film…and I’d like to think that one day I can. Because, somehow, we need to believe in possibilities, as that’s the way we keep on going forward. Where I come from, it’s a country where you live by the day; you don’t really calculate the next month or the next year, you just go through your day, and by the end of the day that’s what your life is about. It creates a sense of urgency in people, so I won’t stop making films, and I’ll find a way of going back and doing it. QA
Javier Bardem was born 1st March 1969 in Las Palmas Gran Canarias (Canary Islands, Spain). His mother is Pilar Bardem, a respected actress who has worked continuously from the mid-60s to the present day, and his uncle was Juan Antonio Bardem, one of Spain’s most celebrated directors, jailed by the Franco regime when his Death Of A Cyclist won the critics prize in Cannes. Many other members of the Bardem family are also well-known actors, including his grandfather Rafael Bardem and grandmother Matilde Muñoz Sampedro.
Javier was four when his mother secured him a minor role in the Spanish mini-series El Picasso. As a youth, Bardem studied painting in the Escuela de Arte Y Officios Art School while playing small roles on TV. It was in the early 1990s when the Spanish director Bigas Luna offered him a role in The Ages Of Lulu that his acting career got seriously underway.
After a small role in Pedro Almodovar’s High Heels, Bardem made his name in 1992 with a lead role opposite Penelope Cruz in the film Jamon Jamon. Bardem was nominated for the Best Actor Award at the San Sebastian film festival and won several other awards for his performance.
Audiences worldwide have enjoyed actor Javier Bardem’s diverse performances over the years. His critically acclaimed works have garnered him many accolades including an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for No Country For Old Men. This unforgettable portrayal of a chilling sociopath killer, Anton Chigurh, also won a Golden Globe Award, a Screen Actors Guild Award and BAFTA for Best Supporting Actor, as well as countless film critic awards.
Javier Bardem was also nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, an honour he received for his portrayal of the Cuban poet and dissident Reinaldo Arenas in Julian Schnabel’s Before Night Falls. He was also named Best Actor at the Venice Film Festival for this role, and received Best Actor honours from the National Society of Film Critics, the Independent Spirit Awards and the National Board of Review, as well as a Golden Globe nomination. Javier has received a total of seven nominations and four wins for the Goya Award, which is the Spanish equivalent of an Oscar.
Bardem also went on to win another Best Actor Award from the Venice Film Festival (only one other actor has won the Best Actor Award twice in Venice) for his performance in Alejandro Amenabar’s film The Sea Inside. For this role, he also won a Goya Award and received a Golden Globe nomination.
For his portrayal of Uxbal in Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Biutiful, which is currently playing in UK cinemas, Bardem recently won the Best Actor Award at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival; Bardem shared the Best Actor prize with Elio Germano at the prestigious European competition for his role as a terminally-ill criminal…
Javier Bardem always wanted to work with Alejandro González Iñárritu and vice versa – and the two finally come together with Biutiful. González Iñárritu had Bardem in mind for Uxbal even as the character first emerged in his imagination. When he showed Bardem the script, the actor’s reaction was instantaneous. “It had a deep impact on me, for sure,” says Bardem. “I had a very instinctive, emotional response to it. When you have this kind of material, you know you are going to jump into an ocean of doubts and fears, and also expectations and joys. In the end, with this story, it is the journey that counts, but you want to do it right, to do justice to it. You don’t want to rush to get to a particular place but give yourself completely over to it. It is a journey towards love, towards the light, towards the positive things inside something that has become black, dark and difficult.”
Uxbal embodies a man of roiling contradictions – a devoted father, broken lover, hardened street criminal, spiritual sensitive – in a moment of sudden, intensifying personal danger and vulnerability, as well as transformation. “These contradictions were already there on the page,” he notes. “All of these aspects of Uxbal were beautifully rendered and described in the screenplay. What I had to do was find the meeting point of all of these things without betraying any of them. In the end, Uxbal is a normal person who has to face a very tough experience, who has to face reality, and who has to overcome all this to leave a legacy for his family, a legacy which he could not have left in the beginning. He wants to leave something positive for his kids, something that gives them hope and something they can carry in their future lives.”
He talked at length with González Iñárritu about the character. “We both thought of him as going through three different journeys,” Bardem recalls. “One is an internal journey entirely within himself; one is an external journey in the streets, as he tries to find a way for his family to survive; and the third is a journey to that thing above us – spirituality, mortality, the things you cannot see or explain but that Uxbal has a consciousness and knowledge of. What is interesting is that each of these journeys interferes in a way with the other. His body, spirit and mind need something from him, but his life on the streets and the urgent needs of his family and children require exactly the opposite. This is his constant conflict.”
The inner, outer and transcendent aspects of Uxbal’s journey all wrap themselves around his relationship with his ex-wife, the volatile and troubled Marambra, played by Argentine actress Maricel Alvarez, a newcomer to the screen. Bardem read with a number of actresses before he read with Alvarez. “Any one of them could have done the job, but when Maricel came at the last moment, she had something in her that truly belongs to the character,” he comments. “She had that mixture of gravity with the lightness of someone whose feet don’t really touch the ground, the perfect combination of those two ways of being. When she came into the room, there was no doubt that she had to be the one.”
He continues: “Working with her was a wonderful experience as together we explored these two unstructured minds of Uxbal and Marambra. We did it with compassion, love and hard work.”
Uxbal also has a conflicted relationship with his brother Tito, portrayed by Eduard Fernández, who has worked with Bardem before. “It is impossible for Eduard to say anything that is not true,” comments Bardem. “He is brutally honest. He does a lot of preparation, and I think his work in the film speaks for itself.”
Bardem also was moved by his experience with non-professional actress Diaryatou Daff, who plays Igé, the Senegalese immigrant who becomes Uxbal’s last-ditch savior. “It was a very brave role for her because she shares so many common circumstances in her life,” he says. “It was quite emotional to watch her. She was nervous in the beginning but then, at a certain point, she really let go, which was beautiful to witness.”
Having previously starred in Woody Allen’s Barcelona-set comedic romance, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Bardem had a chance in Biutiful to enter a completely different side of the city, far from the stylish architecture and cafes that seduced two Americans in that film. “Like all cities, Barcelona has its light and its shadow, and one is sustained by the other and vice versa,” he says. “I had heard about it, but I was not really familiar with all of these illegal factories in the immigrant areas until we began the film. Then, it seemed they were always in the news, with police raids every week. In the places we shot, real life is more complex than fiction.”
As Biutiful progresses, every aspect of Uxbal goes through a metamorphosis – his body, the things on his mind, the things in his heart, the hopes he holds onto – and that was the crux for Bardem. The physical dissolution was the easy part, he says. “We shot chronologically, so, physically, you start with a plan – you know when to stop eating, when to start exercising twice as much. We were working really long days and you are tired so that comes easily into your body. That is not the difficult thing. The difficult thing is all the emotions you are left with at the end of day. Any character is a leap of faith, but there are many different kinds. In the case of this film, the emotional demands of that leap were very high, but it was very rewarding artistically.”
In the end, collaborating with González Iñárritu was all that Bardem had anticipated. “It was an honour and a privilege to work with Alejandro because I am someone who has devoured his films,” he says. “We worked really closely and it was an adventure – Alejandro said it was like climbing a mountain, where you keep moving towards the peak. It was very difficult, but also enriching, because it was very personal for him and for me.” FF
Interview courtesy of Focus Features International.
Interview courtesy of Optimum Releasing.
A rising star in Hollywood, Venezuelan actor Edgar Ramírez, 32, plays the international terrorist Ilich Ramírez Sánchez in this week’s new cinema release, Carlos...
How did you come to play Ilich Ramírez Sánchez, a.k.a. Carlos?I think Olivier Assayas had seen me in Domino by Tony Scott. He sent me the script of the film in Caracas and we met in Paris in August 2008. We talked about Carlos, international politics, history, the 1970s, and it became clear that we had to work together.
What attracted you to the project?
Above all, the opportunity to work with Olivier Assayas, because I’m a fan of his films, especially Clean.
Olivier's an extremely sensitive filmmaker and an astute observer of human nature. He can tell very simple stories with a rare depth. Any director could have turned Carlos into a vulgar stereotype: either an evil terrorist, or a romantic revolutionary. In reality, he’s a much more contradictory character. I knew in advance that Olivier Assayas’ Carlos would be anything but Manichean. Beyond the historical and political dimension of his story, he first and foremost imagined it from a human point of view.
Can you say that Carlos was human?
Humanizing a character doesn’t mean making him a humanist. Assayas unpicks the myth whilst taking account of all the light and shade: his cruelty, his charisma, his misogyny, his doubts, his seductiveness and his cupidity. He depicts Carlos as an extremely complex being who takes decisions that have terrible consequences, sometimes even to his own detriment. Essentially, his film deals with the choices a man makes and their repercussions on his life.
Was it complicated playing a character as ambiguous as Carlos?
I’ve always been drawn to characters that are hard to fathom, and who operate on the boundary of humanity. I like roles that allow me to question my own values, and to gain a better grasp of the paradoxes in human nature. I understood that I had to feel a minimum of empathy for Carlos if I wanted to represent the character as honestly as possible. Otherwise, I’d have turned him into a cliché.
Did you meet him in prison for the role?
That didn’t happen for legal and logistical reasons. But I approached some members of his family, his friends and former mistresses in order to gain a greater insight into his character. In parallel, I read up on him in history books and lots of archive material, before going into the screenplay with Olivier Assayas.
How did the shoot go for you?
It was very intense. We were filming for seven months between Britain, the Netherlands, France, Germany, Austria, Hungary and Lebanon. The weather conditions were, at times, very arduous, notably for the scenes filmed in the middle of the desert, or in the DC‐9 plane at Beirut airport in the middle of the summer and without air conditioning. The film is all the more realistic for that.
What are the most striking memories you have from the shoot?
In Lebanon, during a control at a checkpoint, I didn’t have my passport and I ended up in prison. Luckily for me, it only lasted for four hours. The film crew explained to the local authorities who I was and everything was straightened out. But, mostly, I remember it being a very rock’n’roll shoot, very lively.
Olivier Assayas is able to create such realistic atmospheres that you almost end up forgetting the fact that it’s fiction. During the scene of Carlos’ birthday in a Budapest hotel, for example, I was having so much fun that I got the impression that this party was being thrown in my honour and that the actors were my friends. As the months went by, we formed a real family.
Is it possible for an actor to emerge unscathed from playing such a character?
After the shoot, I underwent therapy for a month-and-a-half. Not because I identified excessively with Carlos, but I’d been through such a frenetic seven months that my emotional system had been somewhat altered by it. I need to evacuate all that energy from my body.
Like Carlos, your name is Ramírez, you are Venezuelan and a polyglot. Were these similarities an advantage for the role?
One way or another, that certainly helped me slip into Carlos’ skin. Our respective families come from San Cristóbal in Venezuela, and we have both lived in Caracas. My father was a military attaché and, like Carlos, I’ve travelled a lot. I’ve lived in Austria, Mexico, Canada, the United States and Colombia. As a result, I can speak five languages: Spanish, Italian, German, English and French. For the film, I also had to learn some Arabic phonetically.
How did you become an actor?
Alongside studying political communication at university in Caracas, I used to organise a short film festival. During a trip to Mexico, I met the screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga who’d seen me in a friend’s film, and who encouraged me to become an actor. At that point, I didn’t feel I had the time, because I was running an organization to promote the right to vote and free access to means of communication in Latin America.
In 1998, Arriaga offered me a role and I accepted it. My international career took off thanks to my performance in Domino by Tony Scott, and then I followed up with The Bourne Ultimatum by Paul Greengrass and Che by Steven Soderbergh.
Besides movies, your name is associated with many NGOs. Where does this commitment come from?
I was initially aiming to work in diplomacy, and I remain very concerned about human rights issues. Last year, I took part in a campaign by Amnesty International against firearms violence in Venezuela. I also represent a national charity for the fight against breast cancer, and I’m involved with Unicef activities in Latin America. Using my image as an actor to defend humanitarian causes allows me to pursue this vocation and not to lose sight of my convictions. OR
Not many actors are lucky enough to land a lead role in their first ever feature film – but Iko’s success didn’t stop there, with the film, Merantau Warrior, going on to receive rave reviews from martial arts aficionados, with particular praise heaped on the leading man’s all-action display.
With Iko and Merantau’s director Gareth Evans looking to build on their surprise, early success, we interrupted filming of their follow-up to talk to the man many have dubbed “the new Tony Jaa…”
How did you get into silat martial arts? Who/what are your influences?
Some of my relatives have been practicing silat throughout my childhood, one of which is my master at Silat Tiga Berantai. Being surrounded by people who knew silat, I became interested, so I joined his class, and have been a student of his ever since.
In what ways is silat different to perhaps more well-known disciplines of martial arts such as karate, aikido, or muay thai, for example?
Silat is unique because it has so many different styles, hundreds of different schools. Each school is different from each other. For example, I am from Silat Betawi Tiga Berantai, this silat uses both upper and lower punches and kicks equally as a way of being flexible during attack and defence moves. But there are a few other Silat Betawi that are different from our style, they may have more focus on upper body moves than lower body, or even if their moves are similar, the way they hold their position is different. Also, some silat schools are very closely linked to religious teachings, like, for example, my school of silat follows Islamic teaching, which adds moral spiritual lessons, not simply physical. There is an emphasis on silat not being something you use to fight someone with, but to find a solution in peace - silat is to defend not attack.
Is it true that you once played semi-professional football?
Yes, I've always had a love of football. I continue to play, but not in any professional way - just with friends.
Then you're used to pushing yourself physically?
Yes, that's true, but football alone couldn't have prepared me for the experience of making the film. What helped me the most was my experience in demonstrating silat.
I've been lucky to have been selected to represent Indonesia alongside a team of silat experts in exhibitions and tournaments around the world. The exhibition side helped prepare me for the idea of choreography, which is very different from competitive fighting. We have to convince the audience of each move, but without dealing a dangerous hit to my fighting partner. With every movement being live, and without any break, it helped prepare me for the shooting of Merantau as Gareth wanted to film in long takes with a wide angle for the camera.
The physicality involved in Merantau Warrior must have been demanding, often involving sustained, uncut bouts of combat - did you ever find this to be much of a struggle?
Yes, it was definitely a challenge. So many of the long shots took a long time to get right, with a lot of takes. But I have learned so much from this, and find it a very precious experience that I hope I can build from and improve with each film.
While the movie has been recognised for its action and stunts, at the heart of the film exists a strong moral code, regarding growth and coming of age. Do you feel that is an accurate reflection of silat's ethos?
Yes definitely, like I have mentioned before, when you learn silat, you are taught not just about the physical moves, but also the responsibility about how you use this skill for a good cause. We are also taught discipline and how we should be as human beings to the people around us. The tradition of Merantau is a specific tradition for Silat Harimau from West Sumatra, and it is designed to test those teachings.
What appealed to you about making this film?
I was very excited when I heard about this project because it was the first silat movie after such a long absence from Indonesian cinema.
I am very honoured that I got to be involved in this movie and help popularize silat to an Indonesian audience, and, hopefully, the world.
Did you learn a lot working with director Gareth Evans on Merantau Warrior?
Yes, I learned a lot working closely with Gareth. He taught me many things about movie making.
I was especially interested when we were working on Merantau as we designed the choreography together as a team. It helped me see how to transform interesting movements, and to be selective of techniques to fit the style of a scene. As an athlete, I used to think that all moves can be interesting, no matter what, but now I know that for the purposes of cinematography and editing to be more specific when it comes to choreography design, not just in the movements, but also the pace and drama of the fight.
What work do you have lined up with him for the future?
We are currently working on our second feature, which is titled ‘Berandal’.
Finally, what are your ambitions in the world of film? Do you see yourself trying to break into more mainstream movie making?
I am going to keep working hard to pursue my career in action movies, and one day would love to be able to work alongside internationally renowned action stars - the people who inspired me. DWS
Interview courtesy Optimum Releasing.
Mélanie Laurent was born in Paris on February 21, 1983. Her mother was a dance teacher and her father a dubbing actor. She came to cinema almost by chance after being spotted by Gérard Depardieu, who gives her a role in Un Pont Entre Deux Rives (Frédéric Auburtin and Gérard Depardieu, 1998). In 2000, Rodolphe Marconi offered her a role in his film Ceci Est Mon Corps with Louis Garrel and Jane Birkin. The film is presented at the Cannes Film Festival.
In 2005, Laurent’s reputation is consolidated thanks to roles in Jacques Audiard’s De Battre Mon Coeur S’est Arrêté and in the oddball Belgian comedy Dikkenek (2006). Her career really took off with a leading role in Je Vais Bien Ne T’en Fais Pas, directed by Philippe Lioret. She obtains several nominations and awards for this performance, for example, the Romy-Schneider award in 2006 and the Cesar award of the rising star in 2007.
Her first short-film as a director, De Moins En Moins, was in the selection at the Cannes Film Festival in 2008. In 2009, Laurent gains international recognition for her performance as Shosanna Dreyfus in Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds.
In The Concert, she playes Anne-Marie Jacquet, a young virtuoso solo violinist invited by conductor Andrei Simoniovich Filipov to accompany his old Jewish and gypsy musicians in the reformed Bolshoi Orchestra, who after years in the wilderness has been invited to perform at the Châtelet Theatre in Paris…
What made you interested in this script?
I was immediately taken by this group of Slavic has-beens, and also, I was attracted to the rhythmic alternation between the comical scenes and the moments of pure emotion. The script combines themes that appeal to me on a personal level: communism and the hopes that it embodied, the long-gone ideals which some people still cling onto, the power of the Russian mafia, and so on. Behind the comedy and the lightness, there is a political theme which I liked.
As for my character, I was really excited about the prospect of playing an instrument, even though I was only miming the movements! I also liked the fact that my role is that of a real woman, one who might even be slightly older than I am.
Describe Anne-Marie Jacquet…
She is quite a cold woman, obsessed with music and lives in her own world. She is someone who holds back her emotions, until the final scene in which she allows them to completely submerge her.
The most difficult thing for me was to stop myself from smiling. I am quite an expressive person, so I really had to exercise a lot of self-control.
What is her view on Andrei?
She admires him immensely. It is perhaps this man that gave her the desire to do what she does: no doubt she’s listened to all his records on repeat for years, and this is what drives her on now. What’s interesting is that she has never performed Tchaikovsky, but she doesn’t know the reason why. So she decides to take an enormous risk by playing a concerto, at a crucial point in her career, because Andrei is involved. Also, she accepts to let her guard down and adapts to the rather unorthodox working methods of these Russian musicians.
How did your violin lessons go?
I had lessons for three months with an extraordinary teacher, Sarah Nemtanu, who is the first violin soloist with the French National Orchestra. She has since become a friend. Thanks to her, I was able to interact with an orchestra and see how it functions. This helped me develop my character and to learn the technique of handling the violin and the bow.
Did you have any particular difficulties?
I’m left-handed and the violin is the only instrument that cannot be inverted: the right hand holds the bow, which was a real nightmare! The movement was so unnatural for me that I ended up getting tendonitis.
The concert scene is exceptionally intense. It was a scene that really made its mark on me. Not even Radu could foresee that we would get so emotional. I completely let myself be taken by the music and I went into a trance. I had to stop myself because I started shaking: I had let go of my violin and was sobbing. In that moment, I had the impression that my body had become the music. It was so strong that I thought I was going to faint.
Was the world of classical music already familiar to you?Not at all. But now I really enjoy listening to classical music. Since I make music myself, I enjoy listening out for the first violins. I like it when a production leaves something with me, like The Concert has, and that it helps me discover something that will change my life. I still listen to Tchaikovsky’s concerto now, switching off all distractions, from the beginning right to the end…
What was it like filming with Alexei Guskov (Andrei)?Something beautiful happens when two people don’t have a common language: we acted a lot with looks and shared sensations. I found this quite sweet, not having to communicate with language. This placed the emphasis on the acting, without stiffness in the exchanges.
And with François Berléand?We kept laughing uncontrollably. It’s fantastic to meet an actor as brilliant as he is, who has a real gift for lightness and humour.
What is “the ultimate harmony” for you?In my job, there are moments of beauty, like, for example, when you come across a scene that you don’t really know how to approach, and the director comes to have a quiet word. Suddenly, everything becomes clear: you act out the scene and then it doesn’t belong to you anymore. I get the impression that “the ultimate harmony” is something that doesn’t belong to you anymore and is the summit of perfection. It is something that isn’t mulled over, and you can’t look for it.
What are your best memories from filming?
The Châtelet Theatre, and the experience of playing with an orchestra. OR
Interview with Elena Anaya courtesy of Optimum Releasing.
Nothing is more terrifying than our own worst nightmares coming true. That’s the starting point of Hierro, a chilling tale of psychological suspense that probes the unsettling questions of who we can trust and what we most fear.
The film is about those inner demons we carry around with us but cannot quite see. In exploring fear as a primal human emotion, Hierro stresses the idea that the most chilling and startling horrors are generated in the human mind itself, where both our own personal demons and ancestral nightmares still lurk, rather than from events in the outside world.
Hierro marks the debut of acclaimed commercials director Gabe Ibanez, who also directed the multi-award winning short film Maquina. Written by Javier Gullón, screenwriter of El Rey de la Montana, Hierro brings together a solid cast headed up by Elena Anaya in a role which sees her push the depiction of mother’s heart-wrenching devotion to its very limits…
María is the most mature character you’ve played up until now, a mother who loses her son. How did you prepare for the role?
Gabe told me that we were going to make sure María had the full weight and maturity she required, because this is a woman who’s grown up very quickly. She lost her parents when she was young, and lived with her sister. One way or another, she has organised her own life from a very early age, living alone with the person she adores so much, her son, who doesn’t have a father and around whom she creates a very particular micro-universe.
Gabe had every single scene in his head, and he explained very clearly to me what story he wanted to tell. After almost two months of preparation, the character begins to breathe of its own accord. It’s a kind of gestation period, an evolutionary process where you have more options, a greater range of possibilities available, to convey who the character is and who you want the audience to see in her. My job was to breathe in time with the character, to maintain the same state of tension she has to bear: a highly charged emotional state. I lived in María’s world. This very personal and peculiar universe is centred on her son, on her relationship with her son, to such an extent they almost feed off each other. Maria is so attached to her son that without him she feels like she’s dying, she can’t breathe, she can’t accept this new reality, it’s just too harsh for her to take in.
We saw many children during the casting sessions, and many of them were fantastic, but I especially connected with Kaiet. He looked me in the eye, and if he got scared, he didn’t show it, he lived through it, and when he smiled, he smiled with his eyes. I felt like he could have been my son. Shooting the film with him has been fantastic. It’s always a bit difficult with children, because everything is up in the air. You don’t know what’s going to happen in the next take, you just don’t know how they’re going to react... and this kid has been just great, incredible.
What was it about Hierro that attracted you most?
To begin with, I was simply very interested in telling the story, but once I met Gabe I began to get really enthusiastic about the way it was going to be told, which is just as important as the story itself. I was practically living at Gabe’s house for a month-and-a-half as we prepped the character. We went through the screenplay for about a month, not only to take the story apart bit by bit, but also to look at every aspect of the film.
In Hierro the atmosphere is just as important as my character, and that atmosphere is created by all of the departments: production design, cinematography, wardrobe... All films come down to teamwork of course, but in this one specifically I’ve felt nourished each day by the work of everybody on the set. I needed that during prep, it was very gratifying and a great experience. It had to be that way; it would have been tough to make the story believable with just my performance.
What working method did you and Gabe use?
Gabe is maybe one of the directors who’s given me most - information and affection, too. He’s been very precise throughout the process regarding how he wanted the two of us to tell this story... with the help, of course, of an extraordinary crew. It makes no difference if a director comes from the world of commercials or of theatre, if he’s shooting his first film or if he’s already directed two dozen. The very first day he told me: “Filmmaking is very difficult," and I answered back: “You’re so right, and it’s great you realise that.” There are people out there who think they know everything and instead of making the job easier, they make it more complicated. One of Gabe’s greatest strengths is that he left absolutely nothing to chance.
It’s true we were lucky during the shoot, everything went just as planned, but above all there was lots and lots of work, loads of planning, lots of homework to be done, and that makes things flow in a very special way every day. It’s been such a beautiful experience, and I always very much felt that everybody was by my side, which is a very good feeling when the time comes to do your thing in front of the camera.
How do you think Hierro has contributed to your career?
Hierro is the film I’ve enjoyed doing the most. For me, it was just like a gift. I lived through the creative process on a daily basis, and that’s a great opportunity for me as an actress. And I’ve also made lots of friends. Given that it’s such a long and tiring creative process, it’s not always easy to come away with the kind of kindness and affection I’ve received every day here. OP
