MAKING SNARK

Brand new SDGNZ member Stephen Sinclair talks about making his feature film directorial debut, Russian Snark, which opened nationwide on 16 June.

What was the inspiration for Russian Snark?
Having directed for the theatre for many years, and made several short films, I felt it was time to tackle a feature. I’d made a short film, Russian Doll, with actors Elena Stejko and Stephen Papps five or six years ago, and thought they were really great together, so I set about creating a longer form story for them to star in. I remembered the news story of the two Russians who floated out to New Zealand in a modified life boat in 1998, and thought this could make a perfect vehicle for their talents. The story made a real impression at the time – a fairytale of a couple escaping from poverty and inertia in Russia to build a new life in Godzone.

Did you have a clear idea of the story and how it was going to end when you started writing?
No. I made it up as I went along, which I found very liberating. Snark was largely self-funded, although we did get 25k from the Screen Innovation Production Fund and a smaller amount of post-production support from the NZFC, thanks to being accepted to screen at the NZ International Film Festival. The fact we were basically financing it ourselves meant I didn’t have to consult with and please any bureaucrat or businessman. As a result I could be as eccentric as I wanted to be.

Speaking of eccentric, what’s the significance of the title?
Well, it’s an enigmatic title for an enigmatic film! Though I will say it’s a play on the title of the celebrated Russian movie, Russian Ark.

How long did it take from when you came up with the idea to the start of filming?
About eight months, all up. The script itself came together over about six months during 2007-8. As you know, compared to the development time devoted to most movies, this is quite swift.

Do you think the film benefited from coming together so quickly?
Well, it certainly made me focus, and concentrate all my energies on scripting and pre-production. I also went into it feeling I’d fix any narrative issues with pick-ups. In hindsight this was a bit naïve. Ideally you should be able to make films this way, but the commercial realities of the business – not to mention logistics – make it a difficult and expensive way to create a story on film. It’s impractical.

Do you think this approach came from your background as a writer?
Yes, perhaps it is more a writer’s mode of storytelling. As a writer you accept that any story you take on will take numerous drafts to get right. Revision becomes a way of life. In a perfect world, directors too would be able to shoot as much and as often as they wanted.

Do you think there are parallels in the approach you took with the way your brother Harry made his films (Topless Women Talk About Their Lives, The Price of Milk, Toy Love)?
Yes, I think I took my cue from Harry to some extent, though I did more writing up front than he ever did. That’s because I’m a writer first and foremost, and I don’t mind writing – whereas most directors seem to see it as an unpleasant necessity.

So you think NZ directors become writers out of necessity?
This has to be true given the usually high number of writer-directors per capita we have in this country. It’s a pity more people don’t set out to be writers, since the greatest bottleneck in the NZ film industry is the lack of good scripts.

How do you think this could be remedied?
Make it more of a grassroots activity – have competitions in schools and so on, to get more people interested in it in the first instance. We also suffer from a general lack of interest in the arts in this country. The present government doesn’t seem to attach any value to the arts at all.

How does the process of making a feature film compare to writing a play or a novel or a poem?
I love the process of directing. Making Russian Snark was hard work, but certainly no harder than writing a novel. The greatest difference is that directing demands you think visually a great deal more. And it involves working in a social context, rather than spending endless hours by yourself in front of a screen. I must say that making Russian Snark has changed my ambitions somewhat. Film is certainly more of a focus than it used to be and I’d like to direct more.

So what are your particular strengths when it comes to directing?
Because of my background in theatre, I can direct actors and get what I want from them. And – perhaps surprisingly, since I’m basically a wordsmith – I have a good eye in terms of the composition of shots and so on.

What did you enjoy most about making Russian Snark? And least?
The worst part was pre-production – the stress of casting and assembling the crew and finding locations etc etc. Once the camera started rolling it was a huge relief. And in fact the shoot itself was the most enjoyable part. Someone once remarked that making a movie is the most fun you could have with your pants on – or, in the case of my actors, with their pants off!

Did you have message to get across in the film?
I guess I wanted to explore the inherent tension the artist feels in choosing between fully committing to the work and actually participating in life, and the stresses this tension places on both the artist and those around them. That was the central idea, which has direct personal resonances for me. Filmmaking is not a family-friendly profession, and the conflict between work and private life was certainly an issue during the making of Russian Snark. Though my wife is still talking to me – so at least the outcome wasn’t disastrous!

Did you think the film succeeds in communicating this?
Yeah. I think the central dilemma of the artist comes across pretty clearly.

What do you think the audience response will be?
It’ll get a varied response. I’ve tried to make it entertaining, and it’s gratifying that people you might not expect to like an art movie seem really taken with it. But, at the same time, it’s not exactly mainstream – it’s never going to do the box office of, say, Secondhand Wedding. And conversely, some art movie aficionados may feel the production values aren’t quite cinematic enough. I guess we’ll see soon! [laughs]

So who do you think its audience is?
I think it’ll be an eclectic audience, in that it will appeal to a broad spectrum – though not necessarily in large numbers…

Would you use this mainly self-funded model of filmmaking again?
Sure, if I could find $200,000. And there are some things I’d do differently. I’d make the script as tight as a drum to reduce the necessity of using pick-ups. And I now know more about time management… Making movies on a micro-budget is difficult and frustrating in so many ways, but you can actually do it. And you have great creative freedom, providing you can work within the budgetary constraints.

Do you have another film project you’re working on?
Yeah, I’m making a doco about Lines of Flight, an alternative music festival. I did the shoot for that down in Dunedin in March. So far it’s self funded – but fortunately the budget required for docos is a lot less than for dramatic features! [laughs]

When are we likely to see it?
I’m giving myself until the next festival, which is in 2013. This will give me time to create interesting visual images to go with the music.

Any other projects on the go?
I’m working on a couple of selling scripts, because sooner or later I’ll need to make some money! [laughs] And I’m directing a new play of mine called Intimacies that Outbox Theatre is staging at the Victoria Theatre in Devonport in August.
I’d also like to make another movie with [Russian Snark producer] Liz DiFiore; one that’s set in the Coromandel, since we both have a strong connection to the place. I’m just waiting for someone to give me a mill to make it! [laughs]

What’s your advice for young players?
Make a lot of money in business – or marry into wealth – and self-fund! [laughs] Otherwise, unless your tastes are mainstream, you will be compromising your ideals for your whole career.

So you think the art versus commerce dichotomy is a common issue?
I think it’s universal. It’s one that anyone involved in creative endeavour has to grapple with.

Any parting words of wisdom?
Anyone wanting to be in the film business should take an active interest in theatre. If you’re a writer, you’re much more likely to get something on stage than on screen, and seeing your work performed really helps you recognise your strengths and those areas you need to work on. Likewise for directors, there are fewer impediments to getting a play up than a film and the experience you’ll get directing actors will be of enormous benefit.

(M)

Written and directed by Stephen Sinclair

Star rating             ****

Reviewed by Sam Edwards.

In a recent interview, director Stephen Sinclair described his film as “ …- an art movie that is accessible to the general public.  ”, and he is right. There is great entertainment to be had from the arrival of an unlikely Russian couple in New Zealand in a dumpy red lifeboat … “ Bloody Hell! “ cries a dinkum Kiwi fisherman on the wharf when it pulls in… and their consequent attempts to live a normal life – if that is, in fact, what artists ever live.

There is also interesting discussion arising from Sinclair’s intelligent laying out of the issues about the nature of art – and hence, for cinema addicts, about art cinema and entertainment. Those issues are initiated in part from social questions about the needs of people who uproot and try to pick up life in a different culture, and in part from the role of the lead character, himself an artist film maker, who exposes the attitudes and experiences which drive him as an artist.

But don’t make the mistake of thinking that RUSSIAN SNARK is stuffy elitist fare. The issues are real, but the medium through which they are presented – a film about film making – is funny, entertainingly and sometimes movingly human, and a great Kiwi insight into the pretensions of wannabe artists and the facts of art itself. Here Sinclair is a winner. His film contains wonderfully evocative images, imitations of art works – the links between the monochrome floating nude shots and the 1934 classic ECSTASY, for example, are clear. Original images ranging from the arrival of the hilarious lifeboat, through emotionally loaded close ups of the couple as their marriage disintegrates, to Misha’s ongoing commentary which includes lines like “ Art is a way of seeing… what lies beneath is memory, fragments of forgotten life. “ are perceptive gems. The dialogue, of course, is Sinclair’s, and the idea of memory and past experience mediating new perceptions is fundamental to understanding the nature of art.

The male lead is Misha, wonderfully brought to eccentric and passionately driven life by Kiwi actor Stephen Papps. He plays an art film maker who has come to New Zealand because Russia does not see the cinema with the same eyes as he does.  When he arrives with starring wife Nadia, and they celebrate the luxury of a real bed in a very ordinary motel room, it is a clear suggestion that New Zealand and Russia may not be so far apart in their lack of appreciation of Misha’s art.

As Misha finds his new country as difficult as the old one his confidence goes and along with it, his relationship with Nadia and any progress on his film. Here Sinclair includes a series of suicidal images in which blood is seen running down Misha’s hand and dripping in the water of the same pond as the shots of his beloved Nadia.  It seems unfair to call these studied, but if there are flaws in this film, and there are, it is that occasionally a viewer may feel some of the shots are somewhat self conscious, just as occasionally the dialogue seems stiff and artificially typical rather than the flowing kiwi speak which is so hard to write successfully. A delightful exception to this is the flawlessly natural performance by Stephanie Tauevihi as a neighbour who helps the self destructing Misha back to a kind of normality.

Here, then, is cinema where one can laugh at oddities even if they may be serious, be moved by situations and events which also seem more funny than sad, and enjoy a fascinating exploration of cinema art and people where your own eccentricities are allowed full reign.

Photo Recall: Last minute reprieve for bedraggled sailors

By Jane Phare

EXPAND

Renata Pavlenko, then 24, and Boris Bainov, then 47 are now married and live the quiet life with their two sons. Photo / Sav Shulman

Twelve years ago, a Russian couple sailed over the Manukau bar into Huia after six months in a leaky boat. Immigration was not impressed. A New Zealand film, Russian Snark, now in cinemas, is inspired by their story.

The strain of a night in the police cells and imminent deportation back to Russia shows on the faces of Boris Bainov and Renata Pavlenko, then aged 47 and 24, as a police officer hustles them into Auckland International Airport.

It was November 1999, a tense moment caught by photographer Sav Schulman, then freelancing for the New Zealand Herald.

Just as Schulman began taking photos, the Herald reporter’s cellphone rang and he handed it to Bainov. Russian-speaking lawyer Colin Amery had left a High Court drugs trial to stop the couple’s deportation, after a Whangaparaoa businesswoman heard of their plight and offered to be Bainov’s immigration sponsor. Bainov and Pavlenko never did get on that flight.

The Herald on Sunday tracked down the couple this week at their 1960s Stillwater bach.

Here they live a quiet life with their two sons, Leo, 7, and Nicholas, 5.

Under a palm tree nearby is the hulk of the tiny yacht which carried Bainov, during three journeys over three years, from Vladivostok. Bainov said reports of their epic voyage became garbled in the translation once they reached New Zealand. When he and girlfriend Pavlenko, now his wife, sailed into Manukau Harbour, reporters thought they had both been at sea for three years.

Instead, Bainov had made two miserable attempts to sail the boat on his own, the first time to South Korea, the second time to Guam, in the Marianas Islands. There he left the boat and returned to Russia.

For his third and final voyage, he was joined by Pavlenko. The pair flew to Guam and from there sailed to Vanuatu. Keen to watch the America’s Cup in Auckland, they set sail again in May 1999, taking 21 days to drift the 2000km across the Pacific.

They took their chances and headed for the Manukau Harbour. “I had no idea how bad the Manukau bar was,” says Bainov.

His first impression of Huia was that he had arrived in “paradise”.

Locals gave the couple a hot shower and food, but someone called Immigration. Within hours, the couple were in custody. Bainov, now 59, recently resigned from an Albany plastics factory where he has worked for more than 10 years. Pavlenko plans to become a radiologist.

By Jane Phare | Email Jane

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10734501