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On the Margin of Film Europe?

Even though the Slovak cinematography is far from being the most productive, it could be said that it has succeeded in attracting the attention of international festivals in the last few years. Recently, Koza by director Ivan Ostrochovský might be a new, hot candidate for such interest. It is a story of a boxer from the social periphery who tries to raise money to save the relationship with his partner. The IFF Berlin included the film Koza in the Forum Section and, at the same time, the film is a contender for the Best First Feature Award.

Koza is your feature début. How did you get the idea to make it?
- The idea for Koza came about easily. I come from Žilina and so does Koza. He lived about 200 metres away from me. We were not friends, but I was aware of him from childhood. I made a short film about him in my freshman year while studying documentary filmmaking and we’ve become better friends since then. I’ve helped him a lot, when needed. What you see in the film actually happened to Koza. They decided that his partner should have an abortion, because they already have two children and they obviously struggle to make ends meet. They had a problem because an abortion costs 300 – 400 euro. However, Koza gets 150 euro in social benefits so he had to take on boxing matches; moreover, he was in debt. At the same time, in the film he experiences a dilemma – to keep the baby or have it terminated.

The film about Koza could easily be a documentary. Why did you decide to make a feature film in the end?
- Screenwriter Marek Leščák and I pondered for a long time about making a documentary about Koza. I never even thought about a feature film, but many moments turned up which would have to be “staged” if I wanted to have them in the documentary. So we made the decision to make a feature film, wherein the real people played themselves. For a time, we reckoned that the coach at least should be an actor. Eventually, we cast a non-actor – our friend Zvonko Lakčevič; Marek Leščák knew him from the Academy of Performing Arts. As a Montenegrin, he has all the features we imagined for Koza’s manager.

How was it to work, as a documentary filmmaker, with the methods of directing feature films?
- Paradoxically, it is quite a different type of work. You are trained for a documentary and you see a situation that would fit fantastically into a documentary, but no one would believe it in a feature film. That was the most difficult issue for me. You need to have a different type of ideas. Anything can happen in a documentary, a comet might fall on a house and no one wonders why. Mere coincidence. Coincidences or exaggerated preposterous circumstances are disruptive in a feature film. I am more of an observer, but in a feature film I have to be more of a designer – and I found that quite tiring. I spent enough energy in making the film to suffice for twenty documentaries.

What was it like working with Koza?
- He called us “journalists” for four years. We live in different worlds. Actually, that is good because he is not burdened down by what we live through – what if it doesn’t turn out well, what if we are doing something in vain… It was never in vain for him, because he was being paid, he got out of the house, and that was fine for him. When we had Zvonko – the second main protagonist – he really had the jitters. Because, as a former filmdirecting student, he knew what it was all about and that it really mattered to everyone. Koza is not nervous, as he doesn’t understand that every single day of shooting costs 4,000 euro. And that was beautiful.

How did the acting of non-actors turn out in the film?
- We knew right from the outset that the acting would have to be minimised. When the protagonists don’t have to speak, they don’t. Together with screenwriter Marek Leščák, I tried to come up with situations to present the story to the audience not solely through the dialogues, as frequently happens in other Slovak films. We tried to move the story forward by gentle interaction, gestures and often by silence, rather to have the feelings present than easily legible information.

You collaborated with cinematographer Martin Kollár for the first time on the successful documentary Velvet Terrorists. What did your collaboration bring to your second joint film, Koza?
- He is much more than just a cinematographer. We took Martin along every time we went location-scouting and we talked about the story. He could easily figure in the opening credits as a co-screenwriter. I think that we have an above-standard relation and, in particular, he is the best at what he does. I love his photographs. He is one of the best in European photography, so I’m glad I had the opportunity to collaborate with him. And Marek Leščák is also experienced. I was calmed down by the knowledge that they wouldn’t let me do stupid things.

What was the image concept of the film like?
- Like Martin’s photographs. He showed me his photographs and we went to those locations if we found something interesting there. We shot many times all over Europe based on his photographs. In essence, the story of Koza is absurd and we wanted to show it rather through the images of the country than the dialogues. I like films where the audience knows what the film is about. Koza has no money, he boxes, he gets beaten up, the end. This simplicity must be evident in the image and narration.

Several editors worked on the film. Why?
- I usually edit my films with people who I like and who are not conceited and don’t get offended when someone else takes over the baton. The editing takes quite a long time and I know from experience that people aren’t able to sustain their enthusiasm for such a long time, or I’m not able to revive it in them. Anyway, when I have the feeling that we’ve already done everything possible and we’re just running round in circles, our collaboration ends. No one has boundless energy or ideas in store. We spent the most time on editing with Viera Čákanyová. She is more radical and courageous than me, and that is exactly what the film needs. I am rather ordinary and frightened that I might ruin something. When the rough cut was done, I called in Matej Beneš and Maroš Šlapeta. They are classics; in their case it was rather about rhythm and proportion, about editing dramaturgy. In turn, Peter Morávek is a silent hard worker who picks up the phone even at ten p.m. and agrees to edit with you. Each of them is different and each one is perfect in something.

In addition to being the director, you are also one of the producers of Koza. Which obstacles did you have to overcome as producer and simultaneously director?

- Almost the entire film has been re-shot once. We re-shot some scenes even three times. Fortunately, we had the luxury of having only six people in the crew. So we re-shot scenes as long as possible. If there’d been thirty of us in the crew, we couldn’t have afforded it. For instance, we made the costumes ourselves. I knew we had to economise because it was quite obvious that I would make mistakes as a beginner, and that I would have to re-shoot them. And I did make mistakes… Berco Malinovský was in charge of managing the production. He loaded the lighting rigs at four a.m. after a full day of shooting and he was smiling. After shooting for twelve hours, he is still capable of driving all day long. He was like five people in one, and that saved us money. Generally, no one is really interested in the production managers. Everyone is curious about the director, screenwriter, cinematographer, but without Berco it would never have been made.

You return to the past in documentaries in preparation. What do they bring that’s new?
- It makes me angry how many things have not been filmed. We made a television series about photographers and composers because no one had ever made films about them. It is more like an obligation. It sounds pathetic but this reflects the decency of a country, that someone notices what kind of work these people are doing. Guard (Garda) is precisely an example of a film that has never been made here, which is totally incomprehensible. That is the same as if the Germans had no films about the Wehrmacht or about Hitler.

How would you summarise the current situation in Slovak cinematography?
- I studied the history of film, so I always look into the past and I make comparisons. Unlike the situation ten years ago, cinematography nowadays is running like clockwork. The Slovak Audiovisual Fund is not perfect, but who and what is perfect in our country? In any case, the Fund is the best film funding option we have had in the past twenty years, which is also endorsed by the number of films being made and the successes achieved at well-known festivals. I am a bit sad when I hear how filmmakers bad-mouth each other just because someone received funds and someone did not. The Fund is never going to be able to cover the needs of all filmmakers. That is just a sad fact that has to be reckoned with when preparing a film. In any case, I think that if someone really has the skills and the patience they will get to make their film in the end. A few years ago no one could do anything as there was simply no money. Now many of us have made films – albeit always with some problems, but no one ever promised us that it would be easy.

Is Slovakia a trustworthy partner for film co-production?
- It always depends on personal relations. However, there is so little money in the Slovak Audiovisual Fund that we are the eighth wheel on the wagon. A million euro is a small budget in Europe, but inconceivable for us. In other countries, co-producers raise twice as much money as we do in Slovakia just by snapping their fingers. The budget for Czech public-service TV is three times the size of that for Slovak TV. It is difficult to maintain a majority. I can’t come up with an expensive project because I will lose it automatically. In the case of a minority co-production, the European Convention applies, which specifies a minimum contribution of 10 per cent. We barely meet the limit in order to have at least part of the project as Slovak. There is nothing of interest here for foreign filmmakers, as they know that they won’t get as much from us as from Poland, Hungary, the Czech Republic. That is also why Slovakia is on the margin of film Europe.

You are not only author and director, you are also behind successful festival films and television series as a producer. How can someone survive in Slovakia as a filmmaker?
- We have many projects and we try to have minimal costs. We are a business that does without a cleaning lady. We do only what is essential. I would rather pay more money to a few people than less to ten people. I apply for eight grants a year and we succeed in getting two. You can’t bet everything on a single card. You should do what you like to do and try to raise the money for it at any cost. When we do our stuff well and try hard, somewhere someone will find it of interest. But it takes time. It took us seven or eight years to get from being out to grass to doing what we love to do. And we are old guys, we are 40, 45 years old. Many people can’t take the pressure – that they don’t have any money and think that that is the end. Of course, no one can give them any guarantee that they will be well off, even if they do their best. It is just up to you, that you want to do it and will do it even though you are not well off. But I will say that, over twenty years, it has never been better. Of course there are problems but, if you look at the calendar and see how many films were made when, the situation is certainly at its best now.

Ivan Ostrochovský (1972, Žilina)
Director, producer and teacher. He studied film science and documentary directing at the Academy of Performing Arts in Bratislava. He made films such as Pietro Pascalo (2000), Script for a Documentary (Scenár k dokumentárnemu filmu, 2001) and he collaborated with Pavol Pekarčík on Lesser Evil (Menšie zlo…, 2004), Wind (Vietor, 2004), Karakorum (2005), Uli Biaho (2008). He was awarded the Igric Award for the 30-minute documentary Ilja (2010). He also collaborated in the making of several TV series and he (co)produced films made by his colleagues. Last year the documentary Velvet Terrorists (Zamatoví teroristi) which he made with P. Pekarčík and Peter Kerekes was screened at the Berlin IFF where it won the Tagesspiegel readers award.

Katarína Hlinčíková
PHOTO: Miro Nôta