Beneath the Story’s Surface

Martin Šulík’s new film The Interpreter (Tlmočník) is in distribution to cinemas. It revisits history via the main protagonists in order to show a picture of our society today. A Jewish interpreter and an Austrian teacher represent two different views of the events that took place during the Slovak State. Martin Šulík bore this idea in his mind for several years. It will be presented to the audiences at the prestigious Berlin Film Festival in its première in February.

The film will receive its première in the Berlinale Special section which presents extraordinary productions or works of world cinema personalities. It is an excellent start for a film but what does it mean for you?

I am happy about it. The Berlin Film Festival is one of the most prestigious in the world. It can open the road to foreign audiences for our film. Thanks to the screening in Berlin, it might even be sold to countries that it would not get into from Slovakia. And I am interested in the reactions of the German-speaking audience, as a big part of the film is in German.

The film is about two contrasting men who travel around Slovakia to find the truth about their own pasts. You admitted that you were inspired by Martin Pollack’s book The Dead Man in the Bunker (Der Tote im Bunker); its story moved you. What affected you so much that you made the decision to shoot such a story?

When working on a film, several sources of inspiration and concepts always converge. The Interpreter was initially part of a ten-part television series Faces (Tváre) about various professions. We wrote it together with Marek Leščák and we expected to present a picture of society, rather like Balzac’s Comédie Humaine, via portraits of people in a variety of professions. We sought to depict each profession in some sort of ethical conflict and, by means of these conflicts, we wanted to understand not just the individual people but also the society we live in. The TV companies showed no interest in our project, it struck them as far too expensive, which is why, along with Marek Leščák and producer Rudo Biermann, we took the decision that we would gradually start to make films from the scripts already written. The first we chose was the interpreter’s story.

Does it mean that Pollack’s book entered the process only once the story about the interpreter had been devised?

When we were writing the TV series Faces, I accidentally heard a short excerpt of Pollack’s book in my car – he was describing his journey in the tracks of his father, commander of the SS special forces in Ružomberok. It was only a few pages, but they affected me as I grew up in Ružomberok and I knew the particular places mentioned in the text very well. I realised that I’d never been very interested in the history of these places even though now-forgotten war events continue to shape life in the entire region to the present day. In addition, I like the almost biblical story of a son tainted by original sin who tries to understand his father’s dark past. By coincidence, at the same time, Marek Leščák also brought to my attention director Malte Ludin’s film 2 or 3 Things I Know About Him (2 oder 3 Dinge, die ich von ihm weiß). In this film the director talks about his father, Hitler’s close associate. We found the confrontation of the past and the present in both stories of real interest. We saw it as interesting material which enables us to analyse historical events from two aspects and to compare our experience with the experience from the other side of the Iron Curtain. However, The Interpreter is not an adaptation of Pollack’s book. It just served to get our imagination working.

Both of the film’s protagonists are confronted with events from the period of the Slovak State. Jirí Menzel as the interpreter, Ali Ungár, is an orphan whose parents were murdered during the Slovak State, Peter Simonischek, as the Austrian teacher Georg Graubner, is the son of a commander of SS special forces who was stationed in Slovakia during the war. This theme is highly topical nowadays as the voice of ultra-right parties is getting ever stronger in Slovakia and across the whole of Europe, and people who have not learned the lessons from the past tend to succumb to it. Is The Interpreter intended to be a contribution to the discussion on this topic?

Together with Marek, we follow what is going on in Slovakia and Europe, how people’s thinking changes at various levels. Views very close to Fascism are currently being presented not only by various militant organisations but also by politicians in top positions. As if they didn’t comprehend the impact of their words. We travelled across a large part of Central Slovakia, the places in which our story is set, and we had no trouble in finding people who would be keen to send someone to the gas chamber or shoot a whole ethnic minority. However, many Slovaks are not interested in the past, they are consumed by the contemporary social problems, they have lost all awareness of the context and, without batting an eyelid, are capable of accepting any political demagogy manipulating history and offering radical solutions. Our heroes, just like we did, encounter various people on their road, people who represent a variety of views from our past and, based on these coincidental encounters, they create a picture of the world they live in, of its values.

Given the number of sources of inspiration for the film, it is evident that you have carried this theme around for a longer time.

It is an active theme, today maybe even more than twenty years ago. Despite everything we know about the Slovak State, we still haven’t managed to clear away the layers of false mythology it has accrued. It is true that, during the war, we had an independent state for the first time in history, but at what cost? We sacrificed 60,000 people. We stripped them of their civil rights, we robbed them and transported them to the gas chambers. We passed laws in the parliament in order to be able to do so. If we really didn’t know they were going to their death – as is often contended – that is not an attenuating circumstance, quite the opposite. In addition, there are many examples in historical documents that Slovaks performed “surplus work”, not just in Kremnička and Nemecká. In many places members of the Hlinka Guard shot Jewish and Roma families and took part in what is currently attributed only to Germans. All these crimes – there’s no other name for them – are being permanently relativised. In the Slovak National Uprising Museum in Banská Bystrica we were told that young Neo-Fascists are diligently studying archive materials from the Slovak State. So they are not uninformed flatheads. They wrest the facts out of context quite consciously, they alter the proportions of events and distort history. That is why we should think about how it really was with our first state.

Does the character of the interpreter who you have chosen from the original TV series Faces have a model in real life?

When, together with Marek, we created the character of Ali, we wanted him to be the picture of a post-war left-wing intellectual in Slovakia. He lost his parents in the war and, in order to come to terms with Hlinka’s Slovak People’s Party, he became a member of the Communist Party in the 1950s. He wanted to settle the account with the Hlinka Guard members and the only possibility that seemed realistic to him was the communists – they did it radically. He earned his living by interpreting and translating, he made the propaganda work with his newspaper articles. In the 1960s, he suddenly woke up and found that he had done the same work as the Slovak People’s Party – as an uncompromising journalist he was eliminating people from ideological positions. We merged several real fates into the character of the interpreter. We built the character of Georg, the Austrian teacher, in a similar manner. When I wanted Jirka Menzel and Peter Simonischek to understand both characters, I wrote parallel CVs for them – who did what and when, where he worked, who he married and so on. I wanted them to know what was lurking under the surface.

They are totally different characters. Was it easy for Menzel and Simonischek to get into them? Did they also bring their own views or suggestions as to how the characters might react?

When Peter read the script, he said that he understood him very well and that Georg’s nature seemed to be close to him. His father was a dentist in the German Army service troops, so he had a certain amount of familiarity with this theme. He was interested in the confrontation of lives that our protagonists experienced on the opposite sides of the Iron Curtain. He especially liked how they get to know each other and become close. He already knew his scripts at the first readings and he modified the text in some places. He liked to improvise. Jirka received the script several days before shooting started and he developed together with his character on the run. He gradually transformed into a slightly bitter Ali right before our eyes. I think that their real human experience was also impressed onto the final form of the fi lm. They didn’t know each other before the fi lm was made, but they gradually looked for a way to each other until they eventually became friends. They went everywhere in costume, they were an inseparable pair. I became so used to their characters that I found I minded when they changed into their non-role clothes in the evening.

Peter Simonischek and Jirí Menzel are pronounced personalities. One of them is an experienced actor, the other an experienced actor and director. How did that show while shooting the film?

Peter and Jirka are two contrasting acting types. Peter is a noted stage actor with big screen experience. He is used to rehearsing and he built his character gradually. Jirka says of himself that, despite the large number of films that he’s acted in, he is just one prominent type and so only able to play himself. Unlike Peter he doesn’t like to talk about his character. His principle was: “Don’t talk, act!” It was intriguing that they not only played two contrasting characters, but they also worked using different methods. Peter liked to check his work on video and, based on what he viewed, he was able to offer variations on the individual scenes from a critical distance. Jirka did not, on principle, view himself while shooting and stated that he placed all his trust in the director. It was interesting how one influenced the other. When Jirka talked about his character, he said he didn’t want to play it tragically, but with a certain distance, since Ali has already come to terms with his past. But when we started shooting, he changed everything under Peter’s influence. He started playing a man for whom the past is alive and who comes to terms with it only thanks to their journey together.

The film is mostly in German. How did Jirí Menzel master the scenes in German?

It was very difficult for Jirka. He had to play in two foreign languages – in German and in Slovak. He had to concentrate not just on the acting expression but also on using the correct grammar and pronunciation. In addition to language assistants, Peter helped him very much, he was patient and often coached him in the correct German intonation. When I observed them at work, I realised how fortunate we’d been in the casting. If those two hadn’t found a way to themselves, it would have been a disaster.

You tell the story non-traditionally through a road movie. Did you opt for this genre with regard to the motif of the journey which carries cognition in it?

Marek and I liked the idea of making a road movie with two old men. They are both set in their ways, they don’t want to adapt to each other and sparks fly between them. The sooting concept also resulted from this. I was happy to watch the faces of both the old men when they reminisced about the past. I wanted to see what they felt when doing so, I was interested in whether they were ashamed, laughing or moved. We shot a lot of material with the director of photography, Martin Štrba, we wanted to overlap the conversations with this material, to create an image counterpoint to them, but eventually we discarded everything with the editor, Olina Kaufmanová. That seems to have been a good solution. I like watching Jirka and Peter as they gradually get to know each other.

At the outset they set limits in their relation to each other, they frequently face off, but they also get into situations when they depend on each other. What kind of knowledge do they achieve?

Many years ago, I spent a pleasant afternoon with Juraj Špitzer in Trenčianske Teplice. He was also a left -wing intellectual who had led a life very similar to that of our interpreter. And at that time, he developed the theory that, if nations knew the language of their neighbours, they would talk to each other more, be interested in their culture and history, there would be far fewer conflicts in Europe. But, since we still do not know each other, do not talk about the past, whereby we retain different views of it, as we do not try to understand each other, there remains a huge barrier between us. Our film is about the eff ort of our protagonists to understand each other. When we were in the editing room, someone suggested cutting out their conversation about Georg’s son in the second half of the film, that it was superfluous information. Then the music composer, Vlado Godár, said to me: “Leave it there! It doesn’t matter what they talk about, what is important is that they are talking and listening to each other.” And I realised that it’s true. It is vital that they should want to understand each other.

— text: Simona Nôtová —
photo: Miro Nôta —

Key Steps of Slovak Cinema

In April, the Slovak Film Institute (SFI) will commemorate its 55th anniversary. In the last five years since it celebrated half a century of its existence, it has experienced dynamic development under its General Director, Peter Dubecký. A modern digitisation workplace has become a part of the SFI, the repertoire Cinema Lumière in Bratislava has become established and the SFI published the fairly extensive History of Slovak Cinema 1896 – 1969 (Dejiny slovenskej kinematografie 1896 – 1969) and issued the first Blu-rays of Slovak films.

We last talked to you in Film.sk five years ago when the SFI celebrated the 50^th anniversary of its existence. Another five years have passed by very quickly. What do you consider important in this period with regard to the SFI’s activities and development?

Five years in the life of an institution or man is not a long period, but things that should be mentioned have happened during this time in the SFI. The completion of the digitisation workplace was a key event, it elevates the Institute to the position of a respected institution. It was an extremely big responsibility. The entire Digital Audiovision project cost 22 million Euro and we were also responsible for it on behalf of the partner in the project, Radio and Television of Slovakia (RTVS), which also built a digitisation workplace. The digitisation of over 1,000 items was the result of the work of our institution, and we continue digitising more than 50 items a year within the sustainability of the project. It is also important that we have managed to digitise not just full-length feature films, but also documentaries and newsreels, because when we want to license films to public or private television companies, an HD medium is a basic condition for their screening. Thanks to the Digital Audiovision project, we have started to issue Blu-rays in the SFI too. Signum Laudis by director Martin Hollý was the first one, then two titles in high demand – Lady Winter (Perinbaba) by Juraj Jakubisko and The Fountain for Suzanne (Fontána pre Zuzanu) by Dušan Rapoš. The SK PRES Blu-ray collection of ten films issued on the occasion of the Slovak Presidency of the Council of the European Union was received remarkably favourably, especially by foreigners; we issued 10,000 copies of the collection.

While recapitulating the period in question, it is also necessary to highlight Cinema Lumière which established itself among cinema-goers within the six years since it was re-opened, and last year it had a record attendance. How do you explain this success of the SFI cinema and what is behind it?

A huge amount of work was done in Cinema Lumière. The cinema gradually underwent planned renovation – the screening rooms and technological equipment were renovated. Today all four screening rooms are digitised and the cinema also has 35 mm projectors available; these are the sole ones in use on a daily basis in Slovakia. The overall programming has also been stabilised with a focus on European and Slovak cinema, which constitutes eighty percent of the programme. Nowadays, it is a repertoire cinema capable of screening twenty different films a day with excellent attendance figures. The attendance climbed over 100,000 viewers last year and the cinema gains a good response not only with general audiences, but also with the film community.

Do you think that you have managed to fulfil your idea of transforming the cinema into an arthouse cinema for film fans, with which you re-opened in 2011?

The position Cinema Lumière finds itself in today models my idea from the time we opened it. It has become the home venue for key festivals, such as Febiofest, Slovak Film Week and others, it affords the option to host various fi lm showcases, the French, Italian, Polish and Goethe Institutes collaborate with us in organising film events which is a great opportunity for cinéphiles to see extraordinary films. We also have the unique repertoire series Music & Film which has been visited by more than 6,000 viewers since it came into existence and even foreign viewers attend these screenings. We organise premières, meetings with filmmakers, projections with Slovak archive films in the Filmotheque, we have the educational projects Film Cabinet (Filmový kabinet) and Film Cabinet for Children (Filmový kabinet deťom). We think that this is the way Cinema Lumière should profile itself in the future as well. It still has a long way to go and there is room for improvement, but I am happy that it has become an oasis for people who are interested in the audiovisual arts. It is a satisfaction to me with regard to the complicated circumstances under which we took over the cinema from the former lessee.

What are the current priorities of the SFI? The institution’s mission has not changed but how are its priorities modified in the period of new media and technologies?

The SFI is the only memory and fund institution which has all its basic activities defined within the Audiovisual Act and its chief priority is protection of the audiovisual heritage. It fulfils its mission via two organisational units – the National Film Archive (NFA) and the National Cinematographic Centre (NCC) where we have managed to staff both the director’s positions, which is also reflected in the relationship to the International Federation of Film Archives (FIAF) and European Film Promotion (EFP) where Slovakia is represented by Rastislav Steranka, Director of the NCC. As for the future vision, I think that, in addition to making films available by means of cinemas or television licensing, the SFI will have to focus more on new opportunities, such as VOD platforms or various applications for downloading films into phones. It’s good that we are prepared for it as we have almost one hundred feature films in HD quality. Dušan Hanák’s complete works have been digitised and also Juraj Jakubisko’s works, with the exception of two films – Deserters and Pilgrims (Zbehovia a pútnici) and See You in Hell, My Friends (Dovidenia v pekle, priatelia). Ideally, it would be good to have all the key works of Slovak cinema digitised, as technological progress is really prominent and the SFI has to react to it.

How do you perceive the SFI’s position today compared with national film institutions in the V4 countries, as regards its activities but also international respect?

The fact that Slovak cinematography is very small plays a little into our hands, as hardly any of the V4 countries can boast of having most of their audiovisual heritage restored and digitised. Our cinematography only started to function on a large scale after 1945, which is why there are not so many films in our collections as in Prague, Warsaw or Budapest. I am very glad that our procedure within the Systematic Restoration and Rescue of the Audiovisual Heritage Project, where we have already managed to restore 80 percent of the materials in the total archive fund, serves as a role model for the archives in Prague and Budapest. They have visited us several times to familiarise themselves with this procedure, and they also visited the digitisation workplace which is comparable with the workplaces in the Bologna film archive, which is considered as the acme in archive activities in Europe. We collaborate successfully with fi lm archives from the neighbouring countries. It is only natural that we have the closest relationship with the NFA in Prague because we were part of the Czechoslovak Film Institute in the past. Recently, together with the archive in Prague, we digitised for instance the sound track of The Shop on Main Street (Obchod na korze) which we are going to issue on DVD and Blu-ray this year, and the Academy Award-winning director Jan Svěrák turned to us; we digitised the sound track of his film The Elementary School (Obecná škola) and we are now working on his other films. It is a positive feature that our institution is respected abroad and that others turn to us requesting not just collaboration but also expert direction.

Last year’s most significant publishing event of the SFI was the issue of the first volume of the History of Slovak Cinema which is the result of the long-term work of its authors.

The issue of this publication is unique; none of the neighbouring countries, when speaking about our territory, has a history of cinema conceived in this manner. The authors, Václav Macek and Jelena Paštéková, have come out with a supplemented issue after twenty years, extended by new studies, new perspectives, and the layout and illustrations, whether photographs or written archival documents, are attractive for readers and they have the effect of transforming this publication into a work we can be proud of. The first volume reflects the period of 1896 – 1969 and we would like to complete the second volume by the centenary of Slovak cinema that we should commemorate on the occasion of the first Jánošík by director Jaroslav Siakeľ in 1921.

Let’s talk about contemporary Slovak cinema. We’ve already mentioned that the previous year was extremely successful for Slovak cinema. Especially, if we realise in what disillusioned state it was in the 1990s, when only two to three films were made in a number of years. Today, more than twenty films are made each year, the production is varied and, most importantly, audiences have started watching Slovak films again. This was confirmed by last year’s attendance figures: over one million viewers at Slovak films. What do you attribute this audience interest to?

The current situation did not arise overnight; it is the result of several key steps that were taken over the last decade. I think that the systematic step – the establishment of the Slovak Audiovisual Fund (AVF) did the most to contribute to the current success of Slovak film. Since 2010, the regular allocation of funds through the AVF independent expert commissions has started and, at the same time, the AVF’s budget has been gradually increased. The existence of the AVF, but also of the Slovak Arts Council and the Council for the Support of the Culture of National Minorities, are fundamental measures taken by the Ministry of Culture under Marek Maďarič, including the adoption and validity of the Audiovisual Act. To date, no other Minister has taken such elementary systematic measures at the Ministry of Culture and we have to thank Marek Maďarič for them. Changes in the public-service TV were also important, as the TV started to show more interest in Slovak audiovisual works and the independent producer environment which was enabled by the contract with the state. Slovak films have gradually come into RTVS broadcasting in the prime time on the first channel, which was not common previously. RTVS also actively enters into film projects and co-production TV series, such as Maria Theresia (Mária Terézia). A shift in the thinking of people in relation to Slovak film is therefore important.

Also, the generation of filmmakers who have started to make their own films having gained experience in the international environment has changed.

At the start of the millennium the incumbent generation of filmmakers culminated, which moved Slovak cinema forward. Young Slovak producers, many straight out of school, started to enter Czech co-productions, but also co-productions with Polish, Hungarian, Austrian and Italian filmmakers and they obtained various funds from the international MEDIA and Eurimages programmes. Slovak cinema developed not only with regard to the number of works produced, but also the heavy themes that we were familiar with in our cinematography in the past ceased to dominate and the genre spectrum was extended by way of crime stories through thrillers up to comedies. The young filmmakers are also capable of making films with political themes, such as in Kidnapping (Únos) or The Lust for Power (Mečiar), and they are able to capture the past and the present by means of highly realistic images which are really up to the European film standard in filmmaking terms. In this context, I like to mention The Line (Čiara) which is one of those films that rewrote the historical tables of attendance at Slovak films last year. That is also because producers and distributors have started to use standard marketing instruments and they present the film to the media when the script is under development. I think that the viewer would prefer to watch a film with Slovak actors taking place in a Slovak environment rather than an American film that might well have been a bit better made, or perhaps made to the same standard, but with themes that are unfamiliar to the viewer.

— text: Simona Nôtová —

photo: Miro Nôta —