WORKING CLASS MAN: THE HEATH DAVIS INTERVIEW

The burden of past glories and the crippling impact of addiction are dissected in Broke, a new Australian film from writer/director Heath Davis. Featuring a typically intense turn from the great Steve Le Marquand, the working class drama tells the story of Ben ‘BK’ Kelly, a once-great rugby league star whose gambling and self-medication through booze has led to desperate times; Claire van der Boom, as Terri, and Max Cullen as Cec are the strugglers who never lose faith in their fallen hero. In his narrative feature debut, Davis nails a hard-edged realism tinged with real heart. Ahead of the film’s theatrical season, Davis spoke with SCREEN-SPACE about his small-scale, intrinsically ‘Aussie’ story that feels universally human… 

SCREEN-SPACE: There is a strong 'cinematic' feel to the characters, but more resonant is the 'blue collar' authenticity, the 'real people' that are BK and Cec and Terri. How did that dynamic emerge in the writing? Are these people from your background?

Davis: There's definitely a ‘real’ DNA, as I like to put it that runs through these characters. It was imperative that they and the movie ring true for identification purposes. BK for instance is a hybrid of people, ex-league players, I knew growing up in western Sydney. His character was pretty fleshed out on the page and then Steve made it his own. I encouraged that. He's been around these types of folk so it wasn't a big stretch for him. (Pictured, top; Davis on-set, with actors Claire van der Boom and Steve Le Marquand)

SCREEN-SPACE: Steve Le Marquand is that rare performer; an intense character-actor persona wrapped in a leading-man package. He must be an enormous asset in pre-production/rehearsal and then on-set. Describe what he brought to the character of BK and the relationship you, as his director, forged with him...

Davis: The obvious physicality and his unique bravado aside, Steve brought his life experience to the table. He's lived a rough-and-tumble existence and knows only too well the world these characters inhabit, so I knew we'd definitely have a believable lead character. He's really respected by his peers so when he came on board I knew he would draw other quality actors to the project. He's a very generous actor to not only his fellow cast but also crew. He made sure that there was no place for ego on set for anyone and that was crucial in creating the realism we were going for. (Pictured, right; Marquand with co-star Claire van der Boom)

SCREEN-SPACE: The National Rugby League (NRL) contributed to the funding of Broke. How and why did they become involved?

Davis: The NRL Education and Welfare Team came on board just before pre-production with some financial support. It was by no means a large sum but it was a lot to us. More importantly, we wanted their endorsement. And I think they realised it would be a good education tool to use for their players, especially juniors. (Pictured, left; Davis, left, on-set with actors William Zappa, Steve Le Marquand and Justin Rosniak)

SCREEN-SPACE: Thematically, Broke pits the facade of hero adulation against the reality of an addict’s self-destruction. Is it a celebration of hero worship or a warning of the dangers of fawning over false idols?

Davis: I've always been fascinated by the facade of celebrity. What you see is not always what you get. It's a human construct that simply isn't real yet we are so celebrity driven as a culture. I remember having troubles growing up understanding the context of how a footy player on a Sunday afternoon could be so adored yet so broken and lonely playing the pokies on a Tuesday night at the local. That juxtaposition makes for great drama. In the end I wanted to show that heroes in life are human and just because they have a specific skill set that doesn't necessarily equip them for life or make them role models.

SCREEN-SPACE: The final images in the film convey a beautifully complex, ambiguous future. Do you have hope for your characters?

Davis: Oh yes, I do. I see it as a bittersweet but honest conclusion. Without spoiling anything, I think BK gets what he needs and not what he wants, perhaps for the first time in his life, and he realises and accepts that. I think there's definitely good times ahead for this motley crew.

Following acclaim on the festival circuit, BROKE has its Sydney premiere on Wednesday, April 13 with other screenings to follow. Ticket and venue information can be found at the film's official website. 

Photographs by MK Creative Studios; Copyright Scope Red 2014

AUSSIE AUTEUR PUTS 'FILM' BACK INTO SHORT FILM PRODUCTION.

For a moment, imagine that the arduous slog undertaken by the next-no-budget short film auteur is not already daunting enough. How could a filmmaker make the thankless journey exponentially more difficult? For Chris Elena, the answer was clear – forego all the burden-easing advancements made in digital camera tech and embrace every production problem presented by shooting on film. The result - a 15-minute contemporary drama called The Limited – is a testament to the drive and commitment synonymous with the origins of the art form…

“Film's aesthetic is warm and cinematic, which we wanted and needed for a film mostly set in small places with cold individuals,” says Elena, a respected voice and popular personality amongst the young turks of Sydney’s film-writing community. His vocal passion for the works of Paul Thomas Anderson fuels his own directorial flair for ‘pure cinema’; The Limited is a small-scale examination of the impact of schoolyard stories and macho posturing that soars emotionally and thematically through the use of Kodak 16mm stock. (Pictured, top; Elena, centre, with crew during the shoot).

“We needed to tell this story on 16mm, which has its own unique cinematic language,” say Elena, his script drawing upon his own experiences at an all-boy Catholic high school in the 2000s. “We shot on one location, with very little coverage, a narrative that is essentially four people telling each other lies that will impact their lives. We knew film (would) elevate that simplicity.”

With a ready-to-go script, Elena also knew that timing was crucial if he was to realise his ambitious production; once-giant film supplier Fujifilm had shuttered its film stock division in March 2013, with rumours circulating that Kodak were poised to do the same. “This was the medium I had learned about, had believed in the magic of since deciding to be a director at the age of 9,” he confides. “I wanted The Limited to be greater than the script I had written and for that, for me to be a better director and do this story and everyone who believed in it some justice, I needed film.” (Pictured, right; the young cast of The Limited)

Mentored into production by industry veteran, the late J. Harkness and employing an experienced DOP in Kym Vaitiekus, Elena realised a dream when he called ‘action’ on a tight 2-day shoot in 2014. “We had eight 400-foot reels, 3,200 feet of 16mm film,” he recalls. “As soon as you start rolling, you have 9½ minutes, or one standard roll of film, to get it perfect. We would shoot each take, change reels, place the film in a black bag and have it sent to be processed at the lab, all at once.” The process made for a focussed, energised set, with cast and crew fully aware of the limitations of film. “Each take has to be better,” says Elena. “When you're shooting on film, you allow yourself to trust whoever is looking at that monitor; they trust your word as they know this footage is precious.” 

Throughout the shoot and well into post-production, the young filmmaker was reminded of why film had fallen out of favour in the face of the digital revolution. “It’s horribly expensive,” Elena bemoans, despite an end-to-end budget of just in excess of A$5000 and made without any grant assistance. “Then the lab could get it wrong, the dallies don't look like what you saw in the monitor, sound editing and mixing is a nightmare with the noise from the camera making an appearance in every take.”

Having spent the best part of 2015 in the edit suite with Vaitiekus and cutter Leslie Heldzingen crafting his vision, Chris Elena is now in a position to consider the end product of his obsession with traditional celluloid. “We didn’t get the amount of coverage we wanted, but we made it work in the end,” he concludes. “We could've created this on digital but it never would have looked and felt this way. The raw dallies - without a colour grade, with minor scratches and dust on the frame - looked like what I always imagined films to look like. Every take we got, the work and effort was on display.” (Pictured, left; the director preparing a shot on the set of The Limited)

And, no, the director is not finished crusading for the existence of film stock. “I'll try to shoot on film until there's not a single reel left that Kodak can give me,” he declares. “The effort and potential for magic that comes with it is worth it in every way imaginable.”

SAVE THE LAST DANCE: THE GERMAN KRAL INTERVIEW.

Drawing from his homeland’s rhythmic soul, German Kral has crafted vivid cinematic representations of South American music and dance over the last 20 years (Tango Berlin, 1997; Musica Cubana, 2004; The Last Applause, 2009). His latest is Our Last Tango, a portrait through passion and dance of Argentina’s tango superstars, María Nieves Rego and Juan Carlos Copes, the ‘Fred and Ginger’ of Latin America whose iconic stature has remained intact through decades of desire, heartbreak and estrangement. From his home in Munich, the 47 year-old expat Argentine chatted with SCREEN-SPACE about dealing with the showbusiness legends, representing their romantic and cultural legacy with integrity and capturing the pulsating essence of his national dance…

SCREEN-SPACE: When did you first become aware of the legend that is 'Juan Carlos and Maria'?

Kral: They were the most famous couple in Argentina from when I was a kid, so I just got used to seeing them on TV and in newspapers and magazines. Juan Carlos Copes and María Nieves Rego were the tango couple since before I can remember so there was no time when I wasn’t aware of them.

SCREEN-SPACE: That is exactly as the film portrays them; an ingrained part of not just Argentinian show business but of the very culture itself.

Kral: Oh, absolutely. As María says in the film, and as she said to me many times, “I am part of Buenos Aires.” And it’s true.

SCREEN-SPACE: When you presented your concept – that they should be reunited for your cameras – were they both immediately open to the idea?

Kral: That was very difficult, I have to say (laughs). To make a film with them together…well, that’s actually impossible. I don’t know how we managed to get what we got. I worked very hard, was insistent, to get them involved. María said yes from the very start. She was very happy that we wanted to make a film about her life. Juan Carlos also said yes and was happy until I told him that María would also be involved. Then he was not that happy anymore. The real problem came when I had to convince Juan Carlos’ new wife that María must be in the film. At one point, he said he would not be in the film anymore, which would have been a tragedy. That would have been like trying to tell the story of Romeo and Juliet without having a Romeo. But he finally said yes again, and the film was saved. (Pictured, above; director German Kral)

SCREEN-SPACE: Do those complications partly explain the seven years between your last film, The Last Applause, and Our Last Tango? Prior to 2009, you were very prolific, delivering a film every couple of years.

Kral: No, not really. It was very difficult to secure financing for this film. I had been working on two other projects which we couldn’t finance, so…you know, it’s very tough to make films when you are not famous. I ultimately worked for about four years on Our Last Tango.

SCREEN-SPACE: The device of filming the young actors, who portray María and Juan Carlos in flashback, meeting with María proves fascinating. It also conveys the impact of María and Juan Carlos across generations of Argentinians…

Kral: Making a film is a process in development. It is not like you wake up one day and say, ‘We are going to make the film this way’. That device was not always intended but serves the film very well. I don’t think we would have had a feature-length film without it. So much of María and Juan Carlos’ story only exists as archive footage; we couldn’t have just had that cut together with them today. I recall a meeting in Berlin with Wim Wenders where I showed him a 3D trailer for the film that I had cut; it was the first time he came into contact with the material. He said to me, “German, María’s story is strong but not strong enough to fill 90 minutes, so get some actors to expand the love story into something bigger than life.” At first, the advice scared me, because I thought he meant that the way we wanted to do the film would not work! But as his words filled my head and my heart, I realised that giving the dancers the space to be part of the story was so right. (Pictured, above left; actresses Alejandra Gutty and Ayelan Alvarez Muno, alongside Maria Nieves Rego).

SCREEN-SPACE: Given that the tango is a dance that requires masterful control in every part of the body, you capture it's essence by rarely cutting away to mid-shots or close-ups. Modern dance films tend to ‘over-edit’…

Kral: I’m so happy to hear this. A friend of mine, a scriptwriter from Buenos Aires, told me to have a look at the old musical films. They are all shot in wide shots, not close-ups. I began to notice that in the big Hollywood movies of the 50s, they rarely cut away and just let the people dance. We tried to be very respectful of our dancers, too.

SCREEN-SPACE: In broader terms, how would you define the relationship between cinema and the world of music and dance? Are there beats and rhythms in the dancing and the music that you allow to infuse your filming style?

Kral: Music and dance in film allows you find the heart of your story more easily; to connect with your audience in a more human, more essential way. If you make films about things that you care deeply about and things that are very close to your life, like I have done with Tango Berlin and Musica Cubana and now Our Last Tango, that passion will become evident. I have lived in Germany for 25 years now and tango has become very important in my life because it is a bridge to my moods, my memories, my family and my origins. (Pictured, above; Juan Carlos Copes)

SCREEN-SPACE: It is that connection to the subject matter that comes through in the film.

Kral: And the film is not about the tango! It is a love story set against the background of dance. Tango just happens to be one of the tools we use to tell this incredible story.

SCREEN-SPACE: Finally, perhaps most importantly…did you get to dance the tango with María at any point?

Kral: (Laughs) Oh my, no, no, no, no. She is such a star and I was too scared to dance with María. I wanted to! I dreamt of dancing with her on the opening night of the film but didn’t dare. I went with her once to a milonga, a place the tango is taught, and she saw me dancing. She took me aside and said, “Listen, German, you dance so awfully, it’s incredible.” (Laughs).

Our Last Tango begins its Australian season on March 24 via Sharmill Films.

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS: THE MAIKE BROCHHAUS INTERVIEW.

For Maike Brochhaus, sexuality in cinema is due for some redefining. An advocate of pro-sex feminism who lectures on the role of pornography in art history, the German filmmaker has directed a contemporary sex comedy called Schnick Schnack Schnuck (the title a Teutonic variation of ‘Scissors Paper Rock’). In the frank and fearless film, a group of 20-something friends deal with life and love while frequently indulging in what 20-somethings do best; the sex is full penetration, the scenarios designed to convey character and drive plot but also question the nature of audience reaction. Brochhaus seems to have tapped into a groundswell of like-minded support for real-world/real-people sex within a conventional narrative. In 2015, she won the prestigious Best Director honour at Berlin’s PornFilmFestival; last week, Schnick Schnack Schnuck won the Audience Award at the Kinky Film Festival in New York City. From her base in the city district of Kalk in Cologne, Maike Brochhaus spoke to SCREEN-SPACE about the daunting mission she faces in changing the contemporary view of sex on film….

(Pictured, above; front row - producer Sören Störung and Brochhaus, with cast members)

SCREEN-SPACE: What did you set out to achieve with Schnick Schnack Schnuck?

Brochhaus: Sören (Störung, producer) and I always liked those classic 70s porn flicks. They are fun to watch, with great music, a little naive and silly but still kind of hot and honest. After watching a lot of them, with Sören or a couple of girlfriends or at the PornFilmFestival in Berlin, we started asking ourselves, ‘Why don't they make 'em like that anymore?’ So we decided to do something about it. Most of the 70s humour was plain sexist, which can be fun if you look at it now because it's so old, but we didn't want that in our film. So we tried to find a way to capture the spirit but with a fresh, modern feel to it.

SCREEN-SPACE: There is a compelling honesty about the sex your camera captures. Why do you think the sensation of watching your actors have sex is very different from the reaction one experiences with ‘mainstream’ pornography?

Brochhaus (pictured, right): Back in 2013, I crowd-funded a documentary called häppchenweise, in which six real people around the age of 30 get drunk and play spin-the-bottle. I wanted to see if they would have sex in front of the camera without forcing them. I called it a "post-pornographic experiment". We ended up with one shy and very harmless sex-scene, which I really liked. It was so honest! Schnick Schnack Schnuck is the first scripted film we’ve made, and I wanted to have amateur actors in unscripted sex scenes as well. The situations leading to sex were of course scripted, but not the actual sex. We just let them do whatever they liked for how long they wanted. This comes with some risks, because you never know what's going to happen, but I'm very happy with the result.

SCREEN-SPACE: Another point of difference is the range of sexual acts that your cast presented you with. Is the willingness to experiment with the sexual experience common to the generation represented in the film?

Brochhaus: I know women and men who live deliberately adventurous and/or promiscuous lives. They talk openly about their desires, experiences and problems, which is a very healthy thing. I wanted to show a little of that in a happy and relaxed way. But there are also friends of mine feeling very insecure about themselves, their bodies and sex in general. And I feel like mainstream porn is not helping at all. In fact, it can lead to a lot of pressure. So in Schnick Schnack Schnuck, you don't get to see muscular androids working out, just some slightly hairy people having fun.

SCREEN-SPACE: What exactly is the director’s role when staging such intimate moments? What techniques do you apply when shooting sex scenes?

Brochhaus: We essentially came up with three simple rules - show individuals rather than just interacting bodies; show real female pleasure; and, don't be afraid of a flaccid penis. We shot the sex scenes with two cameras, a sound guy, the performers and I. We talked about what they would and would not like to do during the shoot and I asked them if I'm allowed to give them some simple directives, like move an arm a little or stuff like that. (Pictured, above; Brochhaus on-set, with Störung)

SCREEN-SPACE: I love the film's notion of ‘Pornotopia’! A world in which sex exists unburdened by any negative connotations or social stigma; where it just ‘is’, like in a porn film. Can such a state of being ever really exist?

Brochhaus: Unfortunately, I don't think so. That's why I want to remind the viewers that they are still watching a porn flick. In Pornotopia, sex is always an answer and able to solve all kinds of complex problems. In reality you have to deal with so many more things. It couldn't hurt if we ease up a little, though.

SCREEN-SPACE: In broader terms, why is there not a film genre that allows for the frank portrayal of real sex within a conventional narrative? Why do you think that, despite films like Shortbus and 9 Songs, actual sex in mainstream plots remains a taboo?

Brochhaus: This is a question I could talk about for hours. I think part of it comes from our Christian background, which always tabooed sex for pleasure. Its influence is getting weaker, but it's still powerful. Sex remains something a lot of people don't like to watch, especially with other people in a cinema. I always find it strange that fighting and killing seems to make people much less uncomfortable than sex and dealing with emotions. Another big thing is obviously sexism. Over centuries there were men trying to restrict female sexual development because they were afraid of it. Pornography was created by men for men; women were only tools for their pleasure. Nowadays, there are even women who have adapted to this all-male view on sex, and that needs to be changed. And I'm happy it is changing right now! You can feel enormous fear if you read anonymous men commenting online on feminism and women commenting on pornography. There is part of men who are deeply afraid of dealing with female pleasure but there's no need to be afraid. Men and women think a lot about sex, that's a fact, and I think we should talk about it. I don't think it's healthy for an individual nor for society to suppress it or let mainstream-porn and advertising tell us how we have to do it. So let's put real sex back into film and enjoy it! (Pictured, above; leads Jana Sue Zuckerberg, as Emmi, and Felix Anderson, as Felix)

Watch the trailer here (NSFW Warning - Explicit Sexual Content)

WATER WORLD: THE ANGIE DAVIS INTERVIEW.

From her home in the Byron Bay hinterland, Angie Davis has reached across oceans and continents to tell the story of Lobitos and its people. The Peruvian coastal village, its self-sustained emergence from under the shadow of ‘big oil’ and the surfing culture that has helped reform the region’s innate strength are examined in Double Barrel, the journalist-turned-filmmaker’s picturesque and deeply humanistic documentary.

In the US to support the festival rollout of her debut long-form work before returning home for the Australian premiere on February 27, Davis (pictured, above) spoke at length to SCREEN-SPACE about her love for the Lobitos community and how their struggle has inspired her, creatively and intellectually… 

What made the culture and people of Lobitos so alluring to you?

The people of Lobitos live a simplistic lifestyle without the modern comforts that we are accustomed to in the West. The rawness of north Peru’s coastal regions make for a number of complexities, such as a dramatic lack of rain, clean drinking water, and fertile soil. The locals are dependent on the ocean for food sources, yet the oil industry combined with commercial overfishing has significantly affected the fish stocks. Local fishermen have to venture further out to sea, in small boats or handmade balsa rafts at night, to hook a decent catch, which translates to greater running costs. I respect the local fishing community for enduring such hardships, while living with big smiles on their faces. And now the son’s of fishermen from the area are getting into surfing and living their lives around the tides and swells. It is this ocean-inspired lifestyle with the backdrop of the raw Peruvian desert that drew me to the area. 

How has the emergence of a modern surf culture integrated with the traditions of the township?

It hasn’t been so seamless. Lobitos was created as an oil town 100 years ago by BP, became one of the richest towns in Peru, and then fell to ruins when the lefts took power in the 60s, expelling all foreign oil companies from the country. In the 90s, the beaches attracted the affluent surfers from Lima who built hostels and surf lodges straight onto the shoreline, which wasn’t exactly welcomed by the existing community who lived back off the ocean a few blocks inland. Surfing has definitely put Lobitos on the map, both domestically and internationally, but the rate of development is alarming. A combination of profit-driven objectives and an ignorant lack of knowledge about how delicate sand-bottom surf breaks are to the movements of sand, tides and wind (means) overdevelopment on the beachfront can lead to the complete destruction of the town’s primary profitable resource - the waves (pictured, right; Davis with environmental advocate and big wave surfer Harold Koechlin and an Andean local). 

Double Barrel balances a human-interest story, environmental/social issues and sports travelogue elements. How did you reconcile your objectivity of a journalist and empathy of a social commentator?

This story was close to my heart. I started writing humanitarian journals for Amnesty International and throwing fundraisers for Surfrider Foundation from when I was 18. I was a surfer with a burning desire to travel and soon recognized a link between great waves being located in underprivileged regions and wanted to explore that more. I was working on a luxurious surf travel piece when I found myself in Peru, but abandoned that story when I saw first-hand that Lobitos was not ready for an influx of wealthy surf tourists. I decided that a film would give Lobitos a chance to move forward more sustainably and challenge audiences to consider their role in the rise and fall of surf communities, or any developing communities, worldwide.

Which filmmakers inspired you? 

I grew up with Taylor Steele’s surf movies. My interview with him on his film Sipping Jetstreams was my first published magazine piece, and I watched him evolve as a filmmaker from action-packed surf films to more travel-inspiring cinematic ‘journey’ pieces. Taylor was a great mentor on Double Barrel. In the end I wanted to make a surf film with ‘everyday’ people that everyone could relate to, with inspiring travel cinematography supporting a story that inspires hope. Too often environmental films finish with that feeling of “wow, I have no idea what I can do to help save the world.” Double Barrel highlights marine environment protection initiatives like the Juntos Por Las Playas Del Norte, a project that was inspired by our efforts making the film. 

The impact of industry on a population and their natural habitat is key to Double Barrel. How did your experiences living in Japan at a time of enormous hardship influence the film?

The Japanese disaster in 2011 was devastating. After the earthquake, we were forced to evacuate for what started as one night but eventually turned into about three months of uncertain life on the road. Nothing could prepare you for living through something like that. The aftershocks were constant and powerful, the constant threat of tsunami was exhausting, not to mention the unknown consequences of the Fukushima fallout. As someone who surfed, swam or walked alongside the ocean daily, and with a one-year-old toddler and being pregnant at the time, the entire experience was life changing. When I first visited north Peru and saw the aging refineries and platforms so close to the shore, the thought of what could happen brought up so much pain inside of me. My experience in Japan made me feel there was an urgency to make this film. I couldn’t bare to see another place I love and the people who inhabit it become so devastated by the consequences of building industry right on the coast. Surviving an event like Fukushima stays with you forever, but it has to be taken as an opportunity to grow and evolve from the experience. 

What are your thoughts on ‘film’ as a force for change? How would you define the relationship between your artistic vision for Double Barrel and the message you had to impart? 

Until I went to Peru and had the idea to make Double Barrel, I had never desired to be a filmmaker. I loved storytelling through writing and producing. Taylor had done a short film for Charity Water in Ethiopia, and helped raise $1million for fresh water wells. I was blown away by how much documentary film could appeal to a global audience, and actually impact developing communities. I knew I had to have a script and storyboard, so that it had structure and context. I didn’t really know a thing about filmmaking, but I knew I wanted the film to be of the highest quality possible, and placed myself around geniuses in their fields that were also passionate about the project. Dustin Hollick was a surfing ambassador for Patagonia who had made surf films growing up in Tassie, including a film ‘El Gringo’ which had sequences from Peru, so I went to him with the script knowing I could trust him. I could not have made the film without him. Dustin recognized my emotion to the place and knew that had to be included in the film, resulting in a transparency that tells the story as it truly happened. Cinematographer Tim Wreyford had previously shot Mick Fanning’s ‘Missing’ film and we shot the first half of the film together. Then I returned with Alejandro Berger who is one of the world’s best water photographers (pictured, above; Davis, left, whith her key crew members). I wanted to combine the format of surf films with longer music-driven surf and travel montages that would give a real sense of the place. We learnt a lot of lessons the hard way, and threw in a lot of our own money to get this off the ground, but the response so far has been incredible. I am very proud of everyone for sticking with it.

A Switchboard Media production, Double Barrel has its Australian premiere in Byron Bay on February 27. Ticket and venue information available here.