Brillante!

Posted on January 9, 2014 by admin

Voices from Afar is a series of interviews with filmmakers and film professionals, critics and experts from various countries around the world. The idea is to, through these voices, better our understanding of films and filmmaking communities which may seem alien at first glance, but whose joys and struggles, on closer examination, may have a deep resonance with our own.

Brillante Mendoza, 53, is one of best known film directors in the Philippines. Beginning his career as a production designer, he directed his first movie Masahista or The Masseur in 2005 and has made 16 films since. His films have brought Filipino cinema considerable international renown. In 2008, Mendoza’s film ‘Serbis’ became the first Filipino film to compete for the Palme d’Or at the Festival de Cannes. In 2009, his film ‘Kinatay’ or ‘Butchered’ won him the Best Director Award at Cannes, placing him in the league of some of the finest directors in the history of cinema. Of his films since, ‘Thy Womb’, was a contender for the Golden Lion at the 2012 Venice Film Festival and ‘Captive’ (2012) was nominated for the Golden Bear at the 62nd Berlin International Film Festival. His latest film is ‘Sapi’, which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival, 2013. Last year he was awarded Chevalier dans l’Ordre des Arts et Lettres (Knight of the Order of Arts and Letters) by the French Government for an “invaluable contribution to the field of arts”.

Yet Mendoza’s movies, and the accolades they have won, have also greatly polarized the international film community. Film critic Roger Ebert had said of ‘Kinatay’: “Here is a film that forces me to apologize to Vincent Gallo for calling ‘The Brown Bunny’ the worst film in the history of the Cannes Film Festival.” On the other hand, filmmaker Quentin Tarantino, who was also a contender for the award that year, said: “If there is one film I would gladly defend, it is Kinatay… I found it extraordinary.”

We ask Mendoza about the alternative film scenario in the Philippines and how he sees it shaping up in the years to come. ‘Brillante’ literally means ‘brilliant’, in a sparkling, showy way, and Mendoza is supposed to be all of that. Here, however, in Mumbai, where he’s visiting a film festival, he listens to our questions intently, before addressing them in a measured and sincere manner.

You have said that mainstream films in the Philippines, seem to have taken a beating in the last three or four years and independent cinema is seeing an upsurge, especially because of digital filmmaking. Could you elaborate?

What I’m trying to talk about is the awareness of the movie-going public, in terms of alternative cinema. In the past alternative cinema was almost non-existent in the Philippines. Even the films of Lino Brocka (one of the greats of Filipino filmmaking, whose films created a stir at the Cannes Film Festival), earlier in the seventies, would usually border on the melodramatic. He would make some films for the international market, to send to major festivals. But back home, he would usually make the more melodramatic kind of film.

But in the last three or four years, there has been an awareness of alternative cinema. However, while the general Filipino audience is aware about it, they don’t really go out their way to watch this kind of film. So, it’s the same problem, like anywhere in the world. However, a lot of students are beginning to watch this kind of cinema.

We have this awareness because of, maybe, the publicity and the awards I’m getting outside of the Philippines. So people hear my name, and know that I’m doing these kinds of films. But still they don’t really go out their way to see the film.

Yet on my part, I have realized that if we get the money, we’ll do it (make these kinds of films). Filmmakers don’t have to go out of their way to look for an audience. They make their film, and then talk to the producer about whether they can show the film or not.

What I do isn’t really the forte of those who appeal to the Filipino audience; they really patronize Hollywood films because they are not exposed to the kind of cinema I make. We don’t really have access to world cinema, in the Philippines, except on IMDB… and all that. And many people don’t even have the internet. So most don’t have access to alternative cinema or post-commercial cinema. So I don’t think not watching alternative cinema is the fault of the Filipinos.

However, while earlier I didn’t go out of my way to explain alternative cinema to Filipinos—I used to think, ‘That’s not my job, I’m not an educator, I’m a filmmaker’—now I have changed my attitude. I now think that, if the government is not doing anything about it, I’m going to share my work with the people. So I share my experiences and my movies, when I have time. I go to different schools and universities. Sometimes—you’d be surprised—there are teachers, as well as students, who tell me that they don’t even know what the difference between mainstream and alternative is, because they are not exposed. But they would like to share the experience of this kind of film because they know it’s significant. They just know that when they watch the movie on the big screen that it’s different. But they cannot really put their finger on the difference, or why they like it. Even teachers are not able to explain this difference to their students. So I tell this audience about the difference— why we do this kind of film, why we choose the stories we do, and all that.

I’ve been doing this for the past three years already, and I continue to do this. It inspires me. After showing my films at international festivals, when I go back home, I show them to different schools. It’s good that there are private organizations that help me do this. It doesn’t really pay much. But it’s my share of what I can give to my country, my community.

You are known as the fountainhead of alternate cinema in Philippines. You have created a new space. But are there any other new or upcoming filmmakers who can help you take this space forward, make it a movement, so to speak?

Not the new filmmakers. There is, of course, Lav Diaz (a well-known experimental filmmaker from the Philippines). But, while my films are not really that accessible to the Filipinos either, it is more so the case with Lav Diaz’s films, because they are like eight hour to 10 hour long movies. This makes it very difficult for the audience to connect. You have to have the heart of an artist who can share.

Unfortunately, young filmmakers nowadays are more interested with getting placed in film festivals. They are more interested with their ego. It’s a bit frustrating when you see this. Maybe it’s because they are young? I don’t know. It seems they don’t have the right maturity. They make films for themselves a lot. But you have to have something you want to say. And you have to share a film.

But, that said, we have a lot of young, talented filmmakers making films right now. The only thing missing is the right attitude. I think one should have the right attitude towards one’s craft to be able to move on to become a mature filmmaker.

You started off in mainstream Filipino cinema as a production designer, and then your first film (The Masseur) happened almost by accident. Can you take us through that journey?

You are right. In fact, I didn’t really intend to make another film after that first movie. I just wanted to try it. I’d been in the business for quite some time and I knew that it’s really very difficult to become a filmmaker. So I didn’t want to become a filmmaker like the directors I worked with. It seemed very hectic, very stressful, to make a film. So when I did most of the work for my first film, I just did not think about how I would make films in the future. When I make a film, I don’t want stress. I just want to have fun on the set. I just want to make sure that I am all ready, that I’m doing everything I can with what I have— I should be very focused. So that’s what I did. And I didn’t really realize what I was doing until I saw my film on a big screen.

Also, I didn’t like watching it on the big screen. It’s quite different when you are filming or editing— you work so hard that you believe there is something happening in the film, that you are telling the story in the right way. It’s very different when you show your film on a big screen with a lot of people. In this case, there were disappointments that awaited me. Because I showed it to some people from the academia, some friends, as well as some people who were from the business. Most of them, more than 80% of them, didn’t like the way I edited the film or even the story and the acting. So it was really disappointing.

But then I realized that’s how I wanted to do it. At the end of the day, I’m not going to please everyone. So I just do it the way I think I should do it. And, really, I also had some people reacting differently, positively, to the same film, during the same screening.

So the reactions were varied but at the same time they were each, somewhere, valid. And, somewhere, these mixed emotions and reactions made me feel quite relevant. It really got me interested in exploring some more stories in the future. It’s interesting to have this kind of reaction to your work— with some people reacting violently, and others enjoying it, to have a work that would be attacked (laughs), or protected, for a long time after you have created it. So, anyway, that showing of my first film was the turning point in my life, where I realized I should make some more stories.

After The Masseur, you continued to work with the same actors. Why? Couldn’t that be limiting for a filmmaker?

When you do your first film, you don’t care. You don’t care whether people will like it, you just want to do it. But after completing it, the trouble starts. You start to think, become ‘mature’. You start to look for money. There are a lot of complications. So to be able to secure yourself, you surround yourself with friends and people who you think can help you with your insecurities. That’s exactly what I did. My actors and crew—especially my cinematographer—became my friends when we were filming The Masseur and I got comfortable with them. So I have continued to work with them because they are like my security blanket. I am a very insecure person when it comes to making my films. I feel that there is always something wrong with what I do and I need to be assured that somehow what I’m doing is the right thing. So these people I mentioned are sort of my friends, and professionals working with me, at the same time. And they don’t like it (laughs). But that’s why I have kept on working with most of them.

As you mentioned, after your films won a lot of recognition abroad, there has been a boom in experimental cinema in the Philippines, in the last five years or so. Isn’t this a weird paradox— that films from your country have to go to Cannes or to a Venice Film Festival to be valued at home? It’s a paradox Indian alternative cinema experiences as well. As does cinema in the United States— though at least they have their own festivals, such as, say, a Sundance…

Unfortunately, that is the sad reality and it doesn’t happen only in the Philippines or in India. I think it’s happening everywhere, even in Europe. Not only in the developing countries. So I think it’s a common problem of this kind of film circuit. Recognition outside is finally recognition back home. It’s sad.

I must repeat though that, while I’m quite known in my country, and I have respect and recognition from my colleagues and the people, that’s quite different from actually patronizing my films. I showed Captive (2012) back in the Philippines and it was very sad because the box office collections were the same as the box office for Kinatay (2009) or my previous film, both of which were a lot smaller in terms of production budgets. So what’s really the truth is that despite all this recognition, despite all these awards and people recognizing my talent, people don’t really go out of their way to buy the tickets to my movies.

In the Philippines, Tagalog is the predominant language and then you have several other dialects. Are films made in all these dialects?

No. We only create in Tagalog, our main language. Well, in some of my films there are some lines, some characters, who speak in other dialects. I try, from time to time, to insert characters who they speak in their own dialect. So we subtitle those. But it’s basically Tagalog and that’s not really a problem.

There is talk about these bills that will revive independent cinema being considered by the Filipino legislators. Are they likely to be passed? Also, has there been sufficient state support, for you, and Filipino alternative cinema at large? President Arroyo was known to be very supportive of your work. Since 2010, you have had a different president. How have things been with him?

Basically, with state support, I think the best thing that happened with this administration is that they appointed Briccio Santos, a dear friend, as the Chair of an organization called the Film Development Council of the Philippines, which also supports alternative filmmakers. I can’t comment on the President’s own actions, because as a person he doesn’t really prioritize contemporary culture and the arts. But appointing somebody who knows culture and art well— I think that’s the best thing he did.

I have major support from the current government, through this organization, through Santos. In fact, the organization I mentioned is part producer in my next film and it has been helping a lot. It was able to build at least 10 cinematheques all over the country in two years time. And also, finally, from 2011, we have had our own film archive.

Because you are seen as one of the driving forces behind independent cinema in the Philippines, do you feel a responsibility to support this kind of cinema, besides as a director? To produce films by newer filmmakers maybe? How else do you see yourself discharging this responsibility?

I think you can’t really help but be responsible when you are recognized abroad. It becomes a sort of challenge. At one point, I realized I would have to share films, share thoughts about alternative cinema, because nobody else was going to do it.

After Lino Brocka we were gone for almost 20 years from the world cinema scene, and now that we are back again, it would be a shame not to do anything about it.

So I started last year. I call it the Brillante Mendoza Film Foundation and I produce films. It’s not necessary that I make money, but I do it for fun, for the filmmakers. So I have four projects right now and I have this one which is the Brillante Mendoza project, to be able to help other filmmakers who have stories that the mainstream are not interested in, which can be produced. And, I intend to continue to do this. Some stories are out of the box, very unusual. One filmmaker has a script about human trafficking, which is also very relevant and a global issue.

You mentioned that your films have greater budgets now than they did before. Don’t you see that as something risking your independence? Because with a smaller budget you can afford to experiment a lot more, without the pressure of having to recover a lot of money…

Like I said, it’s a continuous struggle. But as a filmmaker you just have to concentrate on what is your priority and which of the two—money or art—are you really interested in. Because if I finally think of just earning money from the film, I might as well do an all out commercial movie.

But I think I’m more interested with the other thing, with doing the right thing first. When I say ‘right’, I mean, to tell the story you want to, to concentrate on that, to make sure that you are sharing what you have with young filmmakers and other people, rather than only telling them how to re-coup the investment.

When you look back to two decades ago, do you ever wonder what happened? Why was the last Filipino film to make it to the Cannes, before yours, so far back? Why did the alternate cinema movement appear to die down after?

Well there have been a lot of experimental films in the last couple of decades. I think the reason alternative cinema was never really given too much attention is also because it was kind of expensive to make films at that time, because they had to be made on 35 mm, even 8 mm film. I remember that at the time we had to process most of the films in Hong Kong, because we didn’t have the ability to process the 8 mm. And 8 mm was cheaper than the 35 mm, so it was what many films were shot on. So part of the reason filmmaking was so expensive was because we had to ship it out of the country.

So, because it was so expensive, the alternative cinema movement never really flourished in the Philippines. We have had Kidlat Tahimik. He is an experimental Filipino filmmaker who has been making films since the last 20 years. And we have had Raymond Red, who won the Palme d’Or (2000) at Cannes for his short film (ANINO). But they were exceptions. Filmmakers now, however, are capable of much more because of the technology. Now you can shoot a film with a cell phone and just a small amount of money. So I must say that this generation is a lot luckier than 20 years ago. Now we also have the access: the computers and the internet to watch other movies from other countries. So I’m happy for this and I hope this generation won’t take this for granted. Because it can also be a problem when everything is already accessible and there. You tend to be lazy, you tend to resort to easy ways out unlike earlier, where filmmakers had to really struggle to make a film, so they put everything in it.

Cine Mexicano

Posted on January 7, 2014 by admin

Six years ago, whenever Luis Salinas spoke to a Mexican financier to fund the first film he wanted to produce, the conversation would be cut short by an abrupt question: “How old are you?” Salinas was 25. No one wanted to trust “a kid”, in his words, with so much money, especially not for an art house movie. But Salinas kept at it. Today his production house, Machete Productions, which he founded with two friends in 2008, is only three films old. Yet it is already known for its focus on content, filmmakers it has discovered (each of its three films have been directed by first time filmmakers) and subjects it has chosen for its films, which may have appeared commercially unviable, but which have worked for them in unconventional ways.

Machete Productions’ first film, Año Bisiesto (Leap Year), for instance, was on loneliness and sadomasochism. It won its director the Camera d’Or at the Festival de Cannes in 2010—the first Mexican film to have done so—and went on to be distributed in more than 35 countries. Its second film, Nos vemos, papá (See you, dad), released in 2011, revolved around the Electra complex and was screened at film festivals around the world as well. Its third film, La Jaula de Oro (The Golden Cage), about two Mexican teenagers trying to cross the Mexican border in search of a better livelihood, was screened at the Un Certain Regard at the last Festival de Cannes for which its director won the ‘A Certain Talent Prize’.

Salinas, 31, meets us at the Metro theatre, in a small passage that leads on to the building’s staircase. There are no seats around so we talk standing.

Where did your journey as a film producer begin?

All the cofounders of Machete Productions, Edher (Campos), Rodrigo (Bello Noble) and I, went to a film school called CECC (Centro de Estudios en Ciencias de la Comunicación). We all have film degrees and we specialize in film production. Like at any other film school, in our film school as well everyone wanted to be a director, a DoP (Director of Photography) or an editor; nobody wanted to produce. So, we got a good shot at it because we ended up producing 15 short films right after film school with somebody else’s money. That helped a lot in terms of experience. Then, before starting Machete Productions, we worked with a different production house for around four years. So, though Año Bisiesto was our first feature film as producers, before that we were production coordinators, production unit managers, and we had the experience of handling big budgets, actors, syndicates, guilds, and all the little technical issues— with someone else’s movie and someone else’s budget. So, the next step was to just to do that with our story and our budget.

Was there a specific objective with which you and your friends founded Machete Productions?

When my friends and I were working for another producer’s company, El Anado Films, we were earning a lot of money for them. But they were doing some really bad movies, and yet we were helping them get money for those. So, then, we decided that if we could get money for them, we could get money for our own movies too. The kinds of films we really wanted to make were both inexpensive and easy to do. Also, since it’s hard to do a first feature film, we knew that we could find a lot of first time directors as well. So, we took a while till we found the perfect script, which was for Año Bisiesto, and once we got that we said, ‘This is what we want to do.’ It was an art house film. It was strong enough. So the objective was simply to do something that was good enough, easy enough to do, and had the power to transcend.

Machete Productions states in its mission statement that it is looking for stories which are “worth remembering”. Could you elaborate on that?

I can’t specifically say that a particular kind or a genre of story would interest us. We see the project but also see who comes attached with the project— the director, whether the writer is the director, and what kind of a story it is. Personally, we would like to do something strong. There have been thousands of stories out there that have been done several times. So, we are just looking to find something that has a little impact on the audience regardless of the genre. It can be a romantic comedy or based on a social theme or be someone’s personal story, but if it’s strong enough then we would be interested.

Even though Machete Productions is a new production house, it has very quickly garnered international recognition and accolades. What are you doing right?

I think we are careful with what kind of films we choose. Also, we are not just another conventional production house, which finds finance for the film and then forgets about it. We get very involved with every aspect of the film, even though directors hate that. For La Jaula de Oro, for instance, we were location scouting way before we were shooting. We were on the train, with the migrants, investigating the subject with the director and making sure what exactly it is. We like to be there all the way and that does help. A producer is not just someone signing cheques and contracts. The more you get involved in the project, the easier it is.

Besides researching, which you mentioned, which other aspects of filmmaking do you get involved in?

Locations, casting, logistics… Obviously, for budget issues, you want to know as much as you can— to make it as inexpensive as possible. But also just being behind every creative decision, or at least creative decisions that matter. For instance— why a certain actor should be cast and another shouldn’t. And we don’t sign on any huge commercial actors. We would always go for someone who’s best for the part as opposed to someone who sells. Because ultimately that doesn’t really matter.

All three films produced by Machete Productions have been made by first time filmmakers. A conscious decision for new voices?

Yes. It’s a different type of a director who does his first feature as opposed to one who is doing his second and third. But, also, Mexico is a country that does more first features than any other country in the world. So, it’s sort of a normal thing for us in the industry. It is easier because the (first time) directors are more laid back; they try to control less, in a sense, of what they want to do. But also this is a challenge because often the first time directors are nervous. And while some of them will let you help them some of them become aggressive when they are insecure. So, you let them know that you are behind them and you support them in certain decisions. But, on the whole, it is a lot easier to work with someone doing a first time feature because he or she is more malleable. Having said that, perhaps if we get a director who has done something before he would be open to suggestions as well. It’s not a rule of thumb.

All three films backed by Machete Productions revolve around problems that are typically central to youngsters— isolation, a desperation to escape, sexual confusion. Is it because your production house essentially comprises youngsters like yourself?

Definitely. We have always identified with the stories. Even another upcoming movie is a western— but it’s really a love triangle between, again, people who face solitude. I guess it’s a lot easier to explore your own demons when you are a producer because you can still stay away and not make it personal, as a director would have to. So, yes, we do explore all these issues— that are sexuality or perversion or sadness driven. There’s always something new to explore in those films, otherwise we wouldn’t choose those projects in the first place.

Your fourth film, Přijde letos Ježíšek? (Little Baby Jesus), which released recently, is a departure from your first three films thematically. It’s a slice-of-life comedy. Also it’s co-produced by a Czech producer. And it’s a film that endeavours to break into the European market. Is that the way forward for Machete Productions?

Not really. Because we edited our own version as opposed to the Czechs. So there will be a European version and a North American version. We were trying to do something different purposefully. We were trying to get out of the structure of an art house film. It’s a romantic comedy, but there’s a little bit of a Mexican pride, and you see what Mexicans are like interacting with other people in a different country. But at the same time we were consciously trying to get something different out. So we didn’t want to just do a romantic comedy that was based only in Mexico. So, when this project was presented to us, we saw that the director was Czech, and we thought that with this film we could experiment in a more commercial scenario.

Your films have been distributed in a lot of countries the world over. But how well have they been received in Mexico? Also, which foreign market are you most satisfied with?

Año Bisiesto (Leap Year) did 51 weeks in theatres. Obviously we started out with just 10 screens, but in larger cinema houses it was there for several weeks. But, even if you have a film that does really well in foreign markets commercially, that really doesn’t guarantee the film commercial success in Mexico. With respect to exploring international markets, La Jaula de Oro (The Golden Cage) has been the best so far because we had territories sold in Europe even before Cannes. And it’s going to be released in six countries in Europe before the year is over. That’s big for a Mexican movie.

In the early nineties, Mexican cinema underwent a change. The Government began sponsoring films, and there was a steady influx of money. Then directors such as Arturo Ripstein and Alfonso Arau were making films they believed in and they were later joined by filmmakers such as Alejandro González Iñárritu and Alfonso Cuarón, which resulted in the Nuevo Cine Mexicano (New Mexican Cinema). Where do things stand today?

We definitely have a stronger industry now, which is good. And like any other industry, you can’t say we are the ‘French New Wave’, in that we make only a certain kind of films. We are doing every kind of film. We make a little more than 100 films every year, which I realize, compared to India, is nothing. But those numbers are pretty staggering compared to what we had before. And obviously you get everything. You get really shitty movies, but you also get good art house and commercial films. The good thing is that in terms of the industry itself, there’s enough for everyone. There’s always a Mexican movie in theatres in Mexico—art house or commercial—and I guess being able to put out that range of cinema opens a lot of doors for us to better ourselves.

What are the biggest roadblocks you have encountered as a producer?

Financing is the most difficult. We were 25 when we were raising money for our films. And it was hard because they didn’t want to invest in someone so young, even if you did come from a film school, or even if you were working for someone else before. There’s a Mexican producer called Bertha Navarro, who is (Alfonso) Cuarón’s and (Guillermo) del Toro’s producer, and she has all the experience in the world, and she was telling me that she always has difficulty in financing films. That’s an issue that would be there all the time. But, what was actually harder for me in these five years was producing La Jaula de Oro. The size of the movie was overwhelming for me because there were three countries—Guatemala, Mexico, and the United States—and it involved extensive travelling. We shot on 16 mm, there were thousands of extras, it was a big crew and we were filming in some really hard places; we filmed in really extreme hot and cold climates. So, just going over every little detail and trying to get it right was so exhausting. Although it was very rewarding in the end. I spent two and a half years just getting the film ready before it was shot.