September 1999. We arrive at Bishkek, the capitol of Kyrgyzstan to
shoot the film The Stars’ Caravan. As a matter of fact my situation
is better to begin with than what one would expect, considering we’re
making a documentary, and especially in a so-called exotic place. Our
Finnish crew is made up of a cinematographer, a camera assistant and
a sound recorder—and in addition to these, an interpreter and a
production manager. Through a local production company we get a couple
of cars and drivers, a production assistant, sound assistant, local
interpreter and a lighting designer. The crew is yet enlarged when we
get to the fiction shoots in the film. Usually, when making films far
from home, I am used to operating with a group of three or four, so
I’m happy to be starting like this.
But quantity doesn’t always stand for quality, and sometimes a
group where not everyone knows what they’re doing can slow down
rather than speed up things. Bringing together and harmonising groups
from two different continents takes time, like it takes time for those
who are used to a safe working environment to get used to the Asian-Russian
logic and operation.
I had been in Kyrgyzstan a year ago on a preliminary research trip.
While there, I explored the subject and its possibilities in the cinematic
form. I also cast the lead parts and began negotiations with the local
production company to organise the production. With me were our production
manager and a French photographer who had had the original idea for
the film.
Over a month before filming our production manager flew to Kyrgyzstan
with an interpreter to carry out the final negotiations with the local
production company and to make sure that the subjects of our story were
unchanged. Contrary to the information we were given from this trip
(about the things being unchanged), I realize in Bishkek however that
the story and its background have altered in remarkable ways. Shortspanned
Kyrgyzstan has rearranged many important themes of our film. The existing
script is in a lot of ways useless.
ENDLESS OBSERVING
The situation is not as worrying as one would think. The changes as well
are interesting, and offer new perspective to our subject. A small problem
is only that during the month’s shooting I have to simultaneously
keep planning the film, and go through the hypotetical structure of the
film in my head over and over again, to grasp the different shades of
what’s happened and happening.
Observation also needs to become more intense; one must pick up everything
that relates to the new way of thinking and is interesting. This is actually
a good thing because structuring a documentary is based on good observation,
which is crystallised to take the wanted form. If one has planned one’s
work too precisely beforehand, the ability to observe and utilise one’s
observations is easily numbed. This is what I often criticise myself for.
I have a habit of planning the documentary stories quite far beforehand,
which again has to do with my method of working. Anyhow, I believe that
landing in a new situation amidst changed circumstances was in this case
beneficial and we ended up working with a world that was more interesting
than the pre-planned one. Restructuring the film in my mind gave a new
kick to the project and took us all the way to the end of filming.Because
of the international funding, there was a very precise draft of the script
for funding decision, which is sort of mad when it comes to documentaries.
After the filming, I drafted a new script from what we had shot for the
sponsors’ inspection, and to my relief they approved of it despite
the new form of the film.
With my other example film; Karmapa – Two Ways of Divinity the original
idea held a lot better although the production process took years. But
new, changing situations did shape and tint the structure and narrative
of this film as well.
EMOTIONAL PROGRESSION
The starting points for The Stars’ Caravan and Karmapa were slightly
different. Karmapa was my own idea, which I developed, wrote and worked
on from the beginning to the end myself. The Stars’ Caravan was ordered
from me through Millennium Film’s Kristiina Pervilä as a so-called
international cooperation project. I was however allowed to make my own
story out of it, to write and work on as I wished – supported by
the sponsors. In this way, what was particularly important to me - that
I was able to bring forth my own soul in the film- happened in both cases.
When the idea for a film begins to take shape in my head, I also go through
the idea emotionally. I try to observe what kind of emotions the idea
awakes in me, and what kind of visual images my mind produces from these
emotions. I try to retain this “emotional observation” throughout
the preparation and filming stages, and construct scenes that deepen and
tighten the structure of the film from the most powerful and suitable
sequences. With Karmapa the mere idea brought up some images, which were
carried along to the final outcome. Some ideas were born during the trip.
For instance, I felt right in the beginning that it was important to show
the taking over of Tibet by China as a fiction scene, through the Dalai
Lama’s eyes. I also visualised an idea about contrary elements where
the violence of the Chinese against the Tibetan monks is interspersed
with the monks’ ceremonies in various convents. Composed music would
operate together and in turns with the music of the ceremonies to make
a symphonic whole. I felt the particular importance of these sequences
to be their emotional impact rather than their weight in terms of narrative
or information. They crystallise the filmmaker’s view on the subject
and are glazed with a strong emotional charge.
Often the emotional sequences will not materialise like I want them to.
… They are challenging precisely because of their realisation - how
to ”process an emotion or vision that is clear in the mind to the
film, and make the viewer live through this sequence in the desired way”?
These sequences are in any case important building blocks to me right
from the beginning of a project when I’m thinking up ideas. Often
before a shoot I ponder and compare the alternatives for the film’s
structure in my mind, focusing on the emotional level – what do I
(and hopefully, the viewer, too) feel at any particular moment in the
film?
According to my feelings, I then bring together logical parts of the whole;
we film them, and later see how they work at the editing table. I don’t
know how necessary or useful all this is…but for some reason I’m
used to doing this mental exercise with different possibilities.
PLANNING THE STRUCTURE
Despite my plunges at these mental exercises, from very early on I think
about the structure of the film using traditional methods as well. This
mixture of methods might result from my background as a fiction director,
and my reluctance of a kind, to realise documentaries using only traditional
methods. The traditional way of thinking about the structure and the aforementioned
intuitive emotional structuring come together, and are in the end hard
to differentiate.
When I thought of the right way to approach the structure of Karmapa,
I came across Eastern numerology and the Buddhist culture. I was flustered,
attracted and surprised by the chaotic progression of the Buddhist ceremonies;
at times aggressive roaring and accelerating changes of tempo ending up
in peaceful harmony.
I found a lot in this, which related to the contradictory existence of
man and the whole world, and also the sad but somehow fatalistic fate
of Tibet. The subject of our film, as well, was like a Buddhist ceremony:
“A violent and destructive political-religious fight, in the midst
of which beats a harmonious and spiritual heart, meaning two great spiritual
leaders as the teachers of a philosophical religion. But as each other’s
competitors as well.”
So I ended up with a structure consisting of five episodes. Each episode
began peacefully, accelerated and rended in parts...to calm down again
at the end. I fit the information and the development of the drama inside
the episodes. Each episode was meant to bring a new element to the story.
I thought of the episodes like “five Buddhist exercises” or
“five inhalation/exhalations”, which leave something with the
viewer each time, on a deeper level. I adjusted the editing and the sound
of the film to this way of seeing the structure, which I thought also
gave clarity for controlling the technically complex material. The accelerating
and at times attacking editing style of the film has aroused various reactions
...some appraise it; some find it all too restless.
In The Stars’ Caravan , the mythical Manas figure, who is important
to the Kyrghyz people, plays a notable part in the story. We realised
the fiction film about him that is inside the documentary ourselves.
The fiction is divided into four parts, and in this way, automatically
shapes the structure and narrative of the actual documentary.
I planned the fiction sequences long before the filming, as well as
the passages and how they fit into the documentary story. The fiction
about Manas gives a possibility for comparison between today’s
Kyrghyzstan with its conflicts, our lead characters in the documentary,
and the old epic story. Because the Kyrghyz view the present through
Manas, building dreams upon him, I found it intriguing that the structure
of the film should also be shaped and completed through him. I also
felt that (in the film) Manas was regarding the uncertain steps of his
culture from some elevated plane of existence. The eagle in the film,
with his piercing eyes, symbolizes to me the presence of Manas in this
time as well.
THE POSSIBILITIES OF DOCUMENTARY
Factors motivating my personal documentary expression have been film-likeness,
mixing fact and fiction, as well as linking and developing multi-layered
narrative.
I also find a good contact with the audience essential, which means thinking
about the film through the viewers’ eyes, trying to find those ways
in which the film could be all the more entertaining but yet more profound
as well.
I might not have progressed further than the very beginning with these
goals and dreams of mine, but they are the factors motivating my work
all the same.
Somehow I would like to take this same way of thinking to my forthcoming
fiction films as well, but I know it will be difficult. A creative and
experimental approach to narrative is a lot harder to accomplish in fiction
films. Big budgets bring more decision-makers with them, which means that
new ideas often end up producing old solutions. But one may and should
try everything if one has inner motivation. Film will not die as an art
form, thanks to so many talents, although the attempts to homogenise it
seem at times harsh.
When I think about the landscapes and the worlds of Kyrghyzstan and Tibet,
I realize how my film could have been done in innumerable different ways,
more influential and better ways as well. But that’s good. It speaks
about the richness of our media and our possibilities.
Arto Halonen
|