Ana Urushadze: “When you tell a story about restrictions, it involves freedom, too”

How many “bridges” does one need to burn, before materializing one’s vision? In her debut feature Scary Mother, a bold cinephile statement, the emerging Georgian filmmaker Ana Urushadze attempts to tackle this issue through the story of the 50-year-old housewife Manana (Nata Murvanidze), who realizes that she has to quit her family, in order to fulfil her passion for writing. We caught up with the director at this year’s Sarajevo Film Festival, a few hours before the awards ceremony. Scary Mother went on to receive the Best Film award, alongside the earlier won Cineuropa prize.

You received two awards at Locarno, where Scary Mother had its world premiere. How does it feel, especially considering the fact that this is your debut feature?

If I say it feels great, it will be ridiculous. It was amazing. I’m grateful to everyone and thankful to the cast and crew who helped me make this film and then receive the awards.

How did it all happen, what brought you to the whole process of filmmaking?

Somehow I always wanted to be a director. I imagined this would happen, so it happened.

Does it also have to do with your familial background, bearing in mind that your father, Zaza Urushadze, is a director, too?

I think yes.

Has he been encouraging, inspiring or helpful?

It was my decision. Nevertheless, he told me “do what you want to do”. He always gives me his opinion, of course.

Before your debut feature had you done any shorts?

I had done several shorts while studying at the university. I also wrote 3 scripts for feature films and submitted one of them, which got rejected. In the end I submitted this film, that received financing.

You didn’t lose your determination, however.

Why stop doing things that you enjoy?

What was the starting point of Scary Mother? A thought, an idea, an image of someone, a state of mind?

It all happened simultaneously. The idea, impressions, all gathered up… I don’t remember exactly.

Still, focusing on a woman came first?

Maybe. It was an intuitive choice. I felt it was the right thing to do. It’s the only answer that I have, because it’s true. How can I say another thing? (Laughs)

While watching Scary Mother I had a hard time deciding what was scarier, the mother or the familial and societal restrictions? To you, what is the scariest part? Or are there more than one?

I like the fact that the film offers no definite version and leaves open questions. The more questions people have, the happier I am, I guess. When they arise, it means people think about it. This is a privilege and an honor for the director and the rest of the cast.

Nata Murvanidze, your lead actress, gives a subtle, understated performance, driven by inner strength and an intense sense of turmoil. How did you co-operate?

She’s very famous in Georgia. I thought about her while writing the script, hoping that she would say “yes”, which she did, and then we started a two-month period of pre-shooting rehearsals. We were talking about the character and nothing else. Afterwards, the shooting process went smoothly.

So, was everything strictly scripted?

No. We followed the script, but the whole shooting was based on improvisation and I enjoyed it very much, because it’s more interesting to me.

Would you sacrifice something or someone similar, in order to materialize your vision?

Personally I don’t identify with this character at all. I don’t perceive myself as a writer. To me, writing a script is not writing yet. So, I don’t like responding to such a question, because it relates me to this character. In this woman’s case, it is like that. In mine, it depends on situations.

Would you also say that your film is a comment on the way that women are perceived in Georgia or on their societal status, or was it meant as something more universal?

In all societies there is a percentage of restrictions imposed on women. In Georgia, too. To be honest, the percentage there is quite high. These restrictions share similarities, like oppression and control, but showing an oppressed woman wasn’t what I had in mind. I just wanted to tell a story.

It’s a very violent film, explosive on the inside.

Yes, it is. It’s a film about restrictions and, naturally, about freedom. When you tell a story about restrictions, it involves freedom, too.

There have been many Georgian films in recent years shown at festivals, ranging from very good to exceptional. How do you interpret this fact?

I’m kind of a fatalist. So, I think that, if it’s time, it’s time. That’s how I perceive it.

Are there structures that fund or support filmmakers?

The main problem is financing- and there are many projects. As for the filmmakers, it’s kind of a wave. We’re very happy and encourage each other.

What will your next project be?

I’ll try to write a new script, but I feel that it needs time. I don’t know how much- maybe a few weeks, or several months. I just have an idea about it. So, I’m trying to concentrate on the idea at this point.

That said, Scary Mother is still an “infant”.

I feel that too much time has already passed and the moment I finished the film I wanted to start something new. To me it’s not an infant anymore! (Laughs)

As a good, and not a scary, mother, however, you’ll have to accompany it through the festival process.

Festival-wise it’s an infant, but for me it’s already a grown-up!

Are there more festivals lined up?

My producer knows that. I hope so, because I love travelling. This is one of the things that I enjoy the most.

More info on the film can be found at: http://alief.co.uk/film/film-sales/

Ana Urushadze’s Scary Mother is competing at the New Directors section of the 53^rd Chicago Film Festival (12-26 October 2017).

Gentian Koçi: “I wanted to give the feeling of oppression coming from above”

Daybreak, the remarkably confident and at times reminiscent of the Dardenne Brothers debut feature by Albanian director Gentian Koçi, explores with subtlety the struggle of a woman (Ornela Kapetani) with her baby son to survive at all costs in contemporary Albania. The film had its world premiere at the 23^rd Sarajevo Film Festival, where Ornela Kapetani deservedly received the Best Actress award. We sat down with Gentian Koçi shortly after the press screening of his film.

Why did you choose to focus on a female character, to start with? What was so intriguing about that?

It was more of a spontaneous, intuitive choice. Now that I think of it, it could also have been a male character. Having finished the film, I keep asking myself “How can a father with a young son react in situations like these?” It would have been an interesting story, if it was based on a male character, but a different one. In social terms, of course, the struggle of a woman to survive is much more complicated and difficult. Maybe this is one of the reasons why I chose a female character.

It’s much more difficult for a woman to achieve her goals, as well.

The obstacles are numerous and much bigger, according to my point view, comparing to those faced by men. But the male character would have been transformed in a totally different story with a different narrative style.

Was, then, the narrative style influenced by the choice of your lead actress, Ornela Kapetani? Did she contribute to the formation of her own character?

First of all, I finished the script and then started looking for actresses. I conducted a lot of auditions and interviews, but, when I saw Ornela Kapetani for the first time, I was almost convinced that she was the one for Leta’s character. She also liked the script a lot, and then we had to work together, because incarnating this character was a very difficult process. We worked up to six-seven months before shooting. We had to be very careful, because her character needed to be built within a specific social context, as well as bear some psychological signs. We really had to keep her at a borderline between the social and the psychological.

She’s a person determined to survive at all costs. What is particularly intriguing in your narrative approach is that there are things which one must guess that happen, either outside the frame or inside her psyche.

In my communication with the audience I put enormous value to what is outside the frame.

Still, Daybreak is a film firmly placed within the context of the contemporary Albanian society. How influenced are you from it as both a director and someone living inside it?

My approach to the film is from a universal perspective, which means that it doesn’t only refer to the Albanian society. What makes it universal, in terms of communicating with larger audiences, is the fact that it deals with the inner human struggle. Of course I got the idea from where I live, my daily observation, my interrelation with people in Albania; their portraits in the streets, the way they react or behave. It is inspired by the everyday life. There is also a political statement in this film, because I wanted to give the feeling of oppression coming from above and, since the people have no other alternative, they somehow start to fight against each other. It’s a statement about a system pressing with much persistence on the Albanian people.

With regard to the Albanian cinema, not many films are being made or screened at festivals or commercially worldwide. I assume, therefore, that your effort, too, must have been quite hard to materialize. Is that so?

It’s much more difficult for Albanian films to have an international visibility, because the production is low. However, we have a very rich cinematic history, but very few people internationally know this treasure, since we were completely isolated for 45 years. This makes our work, my work, more difficult, because it is as if the Albanian filmmakers come up with a very low symbolic capital and hard work is required, so that they are visible. It’s also very difficult for Albanian films to have their world premieres at very important European festivals.

I have to say, though, that even if we haven’t produced so many films, since 1990 we have very good works by Albanian filmmakers, who have had the opportunity to share them with international audiences.

I guess that the co-production element, the co-operation with Graal Films, helped in the completion of the film.

The co-production process with Graal Films was very important for the completion of this project. They read the script, they liked it a lot and, ever since, we were on the same “boat”. The only “condition” was that they, too, wanted the film to be completed. Then, Graal could raise some money from the Greek Film Centre, so I had the chance to have part of my artistic group from Greece, for example the DoP, Ilias Adamis. All the post production services were carried out in Greece.

Is this your second time in Sarajevo?

This is my second time in the city as a film director. The first was 3 years ago within the framework of the CineLink Co-Production Market. We were selected among 14 other projects for development and financing.

How does it feel being here?

Being part of the Competition or this Festival, in general, feels very good and somehow important. And the organizers of it are very welcoming and friendly people. The atmosphere of the city during these days feels really familiar. So, I’m indeed happy to present my work in Sarajevo.

Let’s hope that Daybreak will manage to travel as far and wide as possible! Are there plans for further festival screenings?

I cannot announce the confirmations publicly, because they are not official yet. At the same time, our film production company tries very hard to promote it to more festivals.

I would like to warmly thank Gentian Koçi for his time and Blerina Hankollari, his wife and business partner, for her valuable contribution to the interpretation of his responses in English.

More information on the film can be found at: https://www.widemanagement.com/daybreak

Ralitza Petrova: “Rage is a good weapon, when you’re on the side of the truth”

Only loosely related to religion, despite its title, Ralitza Petrova’s first feature Godless is a powerful existential drama focusing on Gana (Irena Ivanova), a home nurse who takes care of elderly people in a provincial Bulgarian town and, at the same time, trafficks their ID cards on the black market, in order to survive. But then, a chance meeting triggers a demanding inner transformation process. A film about abuse, corruption, faith and the possibility to change, Godless premiered at this year’s Locarno Film Festival, where it was awarded the Golden Leopard. Irena Ivanova received the best actress award for her performance of Bressonian proportions. We sat down with Ralitza Petrova for a lengthy conversation shortly after the press screening of her film at the Sarajevo Film Festival. Dressed in a plain black T-Shirt and black jeans, she was “still seeing images of little leopards popping out”, as she joyfully confessed. A couple of days later, Godless went on to receive the Special Jury Prize in Sarajevo and Irena Ivanova the best actress award.

Your film, as you have mentioned, is meant to be an homage to the disaffected, marginalized people portrayed on it. In what sense?

Because no one makes this kind of films, as no one wants to see them! But these people live on the verge of society and I myself have always been interested in the little, ordinary person. I’m a big fan of Kaneto Shindô and Ozu. This sort of working-class, neo-realist characters. For me, the essence of what I wanted to explore, I find in these people living at the extreme end of society. In a way, my main character is somewhere along the path to ending like the old people she’s looking after. All characters in the film somehow share the same story: they all live against their intuition for what is right, in order to survive.

So, how representative of the societal conditions in Bulgaria is the situation depicted on your film?

I think it’s quite representative. It is probably true for a lot of countries that their capitals do not truly represent them. In the capital Sofia, it is so easy to feel content: you see good-looking people with good-looking objects and you think “my country doesn’t have a problem”. But in the provinces it is very different. I wanted to talk about the ordinary people, who live in the provinces. Bulgaria was a country that used to have a population of 9 million. 2 million left. A lot of people for a country of this scale. They left for a reason and Godless explores partly the reason why.  

Still, Gana (Irena Ivanova), your female lead, although she’s on the same side with the elderly people she’s supposed to be taking care of, for the most part of your film she systematically exploits, or even abuses, them. Isn’t that a contradiction?

Absolutely! But deep inside her she has a yearning to change. You see that yearning, that potential, slowly revealing itself throughout the film.

She seems to be in a state of gradual…

…Awakening.

Exactly.

The story is very simple. It’s about a person, who, in her essence, is good, but in order to survive chooses a criminal path. But she reaches a point when the compromise is too big. Fear and guilt play a big role in the characters’ choices. People who have suffered political oppression or genocide are not terribly emotional people on the surface. Inside they are. When you’ve seen horrid things happen, you can’t allow emotion to take over. You suffer quietly. In the film, the vulnerability that comes through and takes over the main character is what redeems her.

She conveys a lot, while acting in a very minimalistic way. She feels like a character out of a film by Bresson. Has he been a reference point to you?

I love Bresson for his minimalism and his poetic syntax. It’s the juxtaposition of the other components in a film, which creates a big wave of emotion, that permeates and highlights the character, rather than the reliance only on his or her performance.  

Irena Ivanova is both an amateur actress and a poet.

She’s well-known in the young poetry scene in Bulgaria. Her first book came out now. She writes from a very similar perspective to mine.

Do you always choose to work with non-actors? And why?

So far I prefer to work like that. Of course it depends on the story. I think for this particular story it was important the characters to look as authentic as possible. The non-actors brought their own painful experiences, imprinted on their faces. I could never have been able to write or direct that. So, Irena Ivanova brought to the film her own scars. We are born in the same place and the people that have caused trauma or received trauma are the same. The conditions are the same. If you share a sensitivity towards that reality, then you’re affected in exactly the same way.

So, I assume that you feel quite attached to the Bulgarian society.

I do, but not in a nationalistic or patriotic sense. For 21 years I had been an expat. I left Bulgaria when I was 19. Coming back, I see that, unfortunately, it hasn’t changed much. In the capital, however, things are slowly changing. I have huge faith in the new generation, because it’s not affected by the same fear, the same insecurity. The capable, the intelligentsia, the people of my generation who believed in themselves had to fight really hard to gain back their values. My generation’s confidence and self-belief were beaten out of us. Anyone who repossessed their confidence had to work for it. We were raised under the motto: “You don’t talk, you shouldn’t talk, you shouldn’t say what you think, you can’t do this, you won’t succeed, you’ll never make it. You wanna stick out? Here goes a hammer in your head”. And that, of course, had a huge impact on how you carry through life. Courage is what pulls you through, eventually.

What personally pulled me through was a certain feeling of rage. I’m really grateful to my grandfather, who is no longer amongst us. He is my personal saint. He was a big man, ironically a Communist, but a purist, like those before 1945, before the Communists came and completely perverted the idea. He was an idealist, full of love and integrity. At his funeral there was a huge number of his contemporaries, who came to pay respects. His values were solid as anchors. I’m glad I had such a role-model, I think that’s what saved me. What followed afterwards was very stormy, in many ways. It is what caused my rage. I believe rage is good, though, but you have to channel it in a positive way. When coupled with values you feel connected to, it gives you the strength to believe in some truth out there. It’s a good weapon, when you’re on the side of the truth. 

Being awarded at Locarno Film Festival came as a surprise to you.

Absolutely. It was totally unpredictable. I’m still seeing images of little leopards popping out! I was hugely humbled and honored and already feeling grateful, as we were in competition for a debut. I can’t be happier, but particularly because these awards came from a jury I tremendously admire, consisting of Arturo Ripstein, Kate Moran, Rafi Pitts, Rodrigo Teixeira and Wang Bing.

Hopefully all goes well, wherever your film travels next.

Marina Abramović, the artist, has said that what makes good art is ideas you’re afraid of. It gets you in a process that pushes your creative potential. It’s scary, but also attractive. Personally, it helps me grow as a human being, and an artist. And now I’m beginning to learn that, if you are connected with your instincts, you can’t fail.