Recent Work

I haven't done this for a while but I intend to get a new site up and running very soon.

For now, here is some of the stuff I've been working on recently...

THE BAILOUT
A Primetime Special for RTE that explores how Ireland lost its economic sovereignty.
http://www.rte.ie/news/av/2011/1128/primetimespecial.html#

HOME TURF
A documentary for the Irish Film Board about the dying tradition of cutting turf by hand in rural Ireland. After debuting in Cork, the film recently had its International Premiere at Hot Docs, screened at  Krakow and will soon have its US Premiere at the AFI Discovery Channel Silverdocs Documentary Festival.
www.hometurffilm.com

BYE BYE NOW
The little film that could, continues to be invited to screen all over the world after touring festivals successfully for the last two years or so, including winning at Silverdocs, Nashville and elsewhere.
www.byebyenowfilm.com

Film Ireland Galway Edition Editorial

It seems this industry of ours is rarely out of the news. Recent articles in major media both question and justify the continued support for Irish film by the public purse. The relevance and importance of Irish films differs depending what newspaper you pick up and with the economy continuing to struggle the pressure is increasingly on the film community to prove the investment is good value.

The argument put forward so often is that there was a type of Golden Age of Irish film in the early 1990s when films like My Left Foot and The Crying Game were winning Oscars and competing at the very highest level in the worldwide film industry. The same questions are asked time and time again. Where are the new Neil Jordans and Jim Sheridans? Why are filmmakers no longer punching above their weight in the way that actors and authors do? And, what is the point of investing in Irish film if it doesn’t compete at the highest level?

So how can we provide value for money, for this investment that the Irish public, via the goverment, passes to us?

It would be wonderful to turn a profit but that’s difficult in a world where more films than ever are being released and the bulk of the audience veer more towards blockbuster fayre and away from the kind of personal, complex tales that we tell best. And, anyway, even for the most famous filmmakers, profit can be elusive – there is no magic formula and the competition is fierce. Some say we should make bigger films so that we can ‘compete’ but what if they don’t succeed? Bigger failures are not something to aspire to.

All that we can offer financially is that we are doing our best. We will, as much as is humanly possible, sell our films, distribute them, convince people of their worth and return what we can to the pot. And we will push our films to the four corners of the globe in the hope that we can sell some kind of idea of Ireland and hope that somehow this feeds back into the exchequer in tourist dollars.

What can the Film Board do?

They can develop numerous talented, diverse voices that represent the full variety of Irish experience, they can investigate appropriate distribution strategies that give small films a chance of connecting with the right audience and they can seek out international partnerships that bring more money into Irish film and give our films more chance of spreading.

It seems to me that this is exactly what they are doing. At this transitional time in Irish film they deserve some credit for that.

Some of that talent that has come through recently is already punching above its weight, winning awards at major festvals and putting bums on seats in cinemas. Sweeping cuts would stunt the growth of the emerging filmmakers that might just be the next Neil Jordan. It’s easy to forget that The Crying Game was Jordan’s eighth film. Instead of looking backwards, let’s look forward to increasingly skilled filmmakers making more and better films of value and some that turn a profit.

Irish film does its best to represent those who fund it and it seems to me that films like Once, Kisses and His & Hers do that very well. This magazine will launch at on of the world’s great festivals, the Galway Film Fleadh, a traditional birthing place for new Irish films. Keep an eye out, you might just get a glimpse of the future.

Film Ireland Cannes Issue

When One hundred Mornings is shortly released, audiences will no doubt be wowed by the wonderful performances, the stunning photogphy and the subtle direction.

They won’t, for a moment, think about the budget. The film was originated under the Catalyst Scheme and was thus made for limited funds. Yet, it is good enough to stand beside any quality film out there. And it has – at festivals around the world and on release in the United States.

A couple of years ago at an Irish Film Board panel, one of the panellists was asked what had happened to the Micro Budget Scheme. The answer, only partially in jest, was that almost all of the films made here could be considered very low budget, so perhaps there was no need for a specific scheme.

I think we can sometimes get hung up on budgets but when a film like One Hundred Mornings, or His & Hers or The Fading Light comes along, we are reminded that films can be great films regardless of budget.

His & Hers, in particular was a fantastic example. I’ve heard many in the film community marvel at the limited budget and the impressive box office return but when I went to see it in the cinema, I only heard the audience chat about the humour, charm and emotion as they left the theatre.

These films are stand alone works of art and storytelling and I think we in the filmmaking community, in these times more than ever, need to spend our time focussing on our creative vision and making daring, innovative films that surprise and delight audiences.

And when remarkable films come along, let us in the community support them and celebrate them. We should tell our friends and drag them along. If we don’t support these films, then who will? If we don’t support them, then we can’t expect others to support ours!

As the summer approaches, Europe’s greatest film festival looms on the horizon and some wonderful Irish filmmakers will be bringing their films there and we wish them well. In this issue, we have Cannes and Irish filmmaking at the front of our minds.

We talk to Ireland’s Cultural ambassador, Gabriel Byrne, about his visions for Irish film and the upcoming season at MOMA in New York. We have an interview with the legendary French filmmaker Agnes Varda who recently attended the Cork French Film Festival and we look at ways in which Irish and French filmmaking talent have intersected on film projects.

We focus, too, on some emerging creative talent, some of whom will be at Cannes, and some of the many wonderful locations that we have at our fingertips in Ireland.

I hope you enjoy the issue and, as always, keep in touch. If you have something to say, let us know, we have a Sounding Off section after all!

HOW TO MAKE AN EPIC DOCUMENTARY FOR 25K

Well, first things first: if you want to make money, go into sales. If you put your head down and push yourself you can really make a good living.

You’ll probably even get a free car if you’re on the road and each year a few weeks paid holidays.

If you want to make documentaries, you probably won’t have any of those things. Not for the first few years anyway.

When I started out, I tried hard to get a project commissioned. I submitted scripts to all of the normal funding rounds and documentary proposals through established production companies to broadcasters. It seemed to be one rejection after another.

Before long, I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. I got a loan, bought a camera and started filming. The idea was to make films and sell the finished work to broadcasters afterwards. The revenue from selling the first film would fund the next and so on. It was a great plan. But then I learned nobody wanted my early work and even if you could sell the films it wouldn’t be for much.

A few years on and things have changed. A little. With a few documentaries in the bag, it’s slightly easier to get an audience with commissioning editors but that doesn’t mean they’ll fund you.

Still, when Mark Pollock asked me if I’d be interested in making a documentary about him, I knew we had a task on our hands. I always felt that Mark’s story was fascinating. He lost his sight at the age of 22 but refused to let it ruin his life.

He created a niche for himself doing adventure challenges and giving motivational talks to businesses. Then on the tenth anniversary of losing his sight, he came up with an adventure challenge far beyond anything he’d done before.

He wanted to prepare for and take on one of the hardest races on earth. Like Scott and Amundsen almost 100 years earlier, he was racing to the South Pole.

From my point of view it would be a challenge too. To do it right, filming should take place for nine months before departure and for close to two months in Antarctica. Anyone I asked suggested that I’d need a huge support crew in Antarctica and the race organisers told me that it would cost EUR50k per person traveling – and that’s before you paid the crew!

Then I got sick. Without getting into the details, it soon became clear that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for me to travel. And the EUR300k budget wasn’t exactly prompting commissioning editors to reach for their chequebooks.

So we created a Plan B. Rather than spending my time searching for funding, I spent it filming the preparations. I contacted the race organisers and a Norwegian crew that would be following the race and they agreed to help me out with footage. Mark’s teammates would film as much as they could during the race and we’d figure out a way of putting it all together when they got back. It would still be a great story, even if this wasn’t the ideal way of telling it.

When they returned from Antarctica I was almost afraid to look at the footage. And when I did, I found a mixed bag. There was some ropey stuff but, thankfully, there was some amazing stuff too. The video diary feel to the footage captured in the tent felt really immediate and powerful. There was definitely something there.

A few months later, I had a meeting with Mairead NiNuadhain in RTE Diversity about the possibility of completion funding and she agreed to try to help. A little while later, I got a call from a nice man in RTE’s finance division, who wanted to go through my budget, line by line. “Does this,” I asked him, “mean the project is financed?”

It did.

So, after filming for nine months in Ireland, making agreements with other film crews, putting a camera in the hands of adventure athletes with little idea what would happen, praying that funding would come through and numerous weeks editing, we have a completed documentary about the first blind man to race to the South Pole. It’s an epic, of sorts, and it cost just EUR25k.

Now, where can I get a job in sales?

Documentary Longinotto Style

Ross Whitaker took a trip to Guth Gafa film festival to talk to an extraordinary documentary maker, Kim Longinotto. The director tells us about her unique approach and the difficult decisions she’s made whilst making her films.

Guth Gafa is fast becoming one of Ireland’s most enjoyable festivals. Locked away in the north west corner of the country, it is delightfully small yet perfectly formed and screens some of the world’s most exciting documentary films, always with the filmmaker in attendance.

One of this year’s undoubted highlights was two screenings and a masterclass with Kim Longinotto, whose marvellous films have been gracing festivals around the world for over thirty years…

Kim Longinotto refuses to be unequivocal. She has done these masterclasses before and as she begins to speak to the group, she is just a little careful about what she says. ‘I promised myself I’d never do one of these things again,’ she says with a smile.

But everyone here is glad she didn’t stick to that promise.

Longinotto has a way that she likes to make films and it has served her well. For many years her films have been greeted by critical and audience acclaim and she was given an Outstanding Achievement Award at this year’s Hot Docs. Major awards at festivals like Cannes and Sundance and a European Film Award prove the world likes the way she makes films too.

Generally speaking, Longinotto doesn’t use interviews in her films, uses little music and rarely uses any kind of voiceover. She never wants to ask her subjects to repeat anything or act in any particular way and she doesn’t shoot cutaways. But she doesn’t want people to think that she is against these things, she just doesn’t want them in her films. She is at pains not to generalise about how films should be made.

‘What we all do is make films that reflect who we are,’ she says. ‘What you make shows so much of what kind of person you are and how you see the world and you just have to go with it really.’
Longinotto’s personality seems reflected in the films that she makes. She seems unassuming, quiet but confident and very open. You can see how the subjects of her films might warm to her.
In her films, she doesn’t tell the audience what to think but instead creates a narrative with complex, human characters. She does all her own cinematography but she is not a fly on the wall, rather she’s another person in the room. The audience becomes a witness in the world she portrays rather than a passive observer.

‘It’s a different kind of information that you’re getting. I remember sitting through documentaries that were on before a fiction film and everyone used to talk through them because documentaries were the boring bit where you were told something and it was supposed to be good for you somehow. What I’m trying to do is make a story where you’re being drawn into a world and you’re watching a story unfold and you stop thinking about what type of film it is and just follow the narrative.’
The full article is printed in Film Ireland 133

100 Mornings - COMING SOON!

Conor Horgan is a man in a hurry. He squeezes me in for a chat in a Dublin café the day before he is due to fly to the Slamdance festival in Park City, Utah where his debut feature - One Hundred Mornings - will have its World Premiere.

For his first film to be chosen for Slamdance is a creditable achievement in itself but over the coming days the film makes a substantial impression at the festival, where it receives a Special Jury Mention and is described by Filmmaker Magazine as, "Achingly humane and stringently observed".

One Hundred Mornings was one of three films green-lit by the Catalyst Project to go into production with a €250k budget. The other films were the festival favourite Eamon and the as-yet unreleased Redux but the scheme was also responsible for incubating other fine films like His & Hers and Savage, that weren’t funded by the project itself but were developed to the point that production was almost inevitable, and was ultimately successful.

What comes across so strongly in conversation with Horgan is just how much he enjoyed making this intense, moving film. His eyes light up when he thinks back to the process, holed up in a Wicklow location for four weeks.

“The film is quite bleak, you could say, but the set was the happiest set I’ve ever been on. Perhaps that was a reaction to the material. We were a group of people doing something that we believed in and believing it was something we could do well. There was a strong feeling amongst the cast and crew that we had the potential to make a good film.”

The film imagines a world where society has broken down and the population is struggling to survive with no energy and limited resources. At the centre of the film, two couples form an uneasy alliance, hiding out in a remote lakeside cabin and hoping things will somehow improve.

Time passes. With precious little information from the outside world and an increasing amount of external threats to their survival, tensions rise between the characters, leaving the audience gripped by the action.

To make the film, it was vital that Horgan find a location cut off from the external world, both from the point of view of isolating his characters and also creating a quiet world away from the sounds of daily life.

“Writing the film, I thought I was being very clever because we only needed one location but when I actually broke it down I realised that the location had to provide a very long and specific list of requirements. It took us an awful long time to find it. We were at the top of a hill looking down at Lough Dan and we saw this place. I remember walking down the hill and looking in the windows and thinking, ‘this is it!’”

“It was just in the middle of nowhere but because of the film it needed to be in the middle of nowhere. It needed to have no lights, no noise, not even a road nearby or even livestock. And it had to big enough so that we could shoot four people in it and make it visually interesting.”

The film is definitely that. At times watching it, I was reminded that Horgan has a background in photography; so many of the frames could have been stunning photographs in themselves.

This visual strength allied to the bleak but beautiful location makes this film the best looking of the recent lower budget Irish films, in my opinion at least, and Horgan explains that he had a strong collaborative bond with cinematographer, Suzie Lavelle.

“Suzie was just a really great ally to make the film with. We spent two weeks on the set before filming, looking at everything and storyboarding. She has a document somewhere with photographs for every scene from the film but when it came to filming we just put that in the back pocket and were open to what would happen in front of us. There was a spontaneity and an energy about how things happened on set that gave the film life.”

Horgan has achieved a taut, compelling drama that sucks you in and won’t let go. Central to achieving this outcome is his choice of bravely long takes held in wider shots that drag the viewer into the centre of the unfolding human drama.

“I didn’t want to make a cutty film,” he says. “I started off in commercials where you cut so often. Where possible, I wanted to make the scene work in one take. I wanted to block the scenes and set the frame and create something that held the attention and held the drama without needing to cut to another angle. It just makes the film feel more real.”

Test screenings confirmed that the intensity of film could emotionally engage viewers. Horgan sat delighted amongst the punters while post-screening debates about the film unfolded. People were engaged and passionate about it. The film’s domestic premiere at Galway continued the trend and success at Slamdance suggests it has a bright future.

“It isn’t a film that’s everyone’s cup of tea but then it wasn’t intended to be. I think the people that get it, really get it. I certainly hope that it’s thought-provoking and, so far, it seems to be.”

JAPANESE CINEMA GEMS CURRENTLY @ IFI

Departures - until Jan 7thWinner of the Oscar for Best Foreign Film, director Yojiro Takita’s drama conjures an arresting story from unlikely subject matter: the travails of a cash-strapped cellist who takes on a new job preparing corpses for Japanese funeral rites.This fundamentally warm-hearted film finds a balance of humour and sobriety in its touching exploration of both the pain and the catharsis involved in saying our farewells.

YASUJIRO OZU SEASON - until Jan 29thRegarded by many critics as the greatest of Japanese directors, Yasujiro Ozu (1903-1963) is celebrated in this short season built around the re-release of digitally restored versions of Tokyo Story (1953) and Late Autumn (1960).

SCREENINGS:An Autumn Afternoon (Sanma No Aji) until Jan 7th Tokyo Story (Tokyo Monogatari) until Jan 14th Floating Weeds (Ukigusa) Jan 16th & 18th The End of Summer (Kohayagawa-Ke No Aki) Jan 17th & 19th Late Autumn (Akibiyori) from Jan 29th.

Coming soon

Still Walking - Jan 15th - 28thHirokazu Kore-eda’s previous work (After Life, Nobody Knows) has been impressive, but this family drama is so wise and true that it affirms his position at the forefront of Japanese cinema. It revolves around a single family gathering, in which elderly parents host their grown-up son and daughter, their respective partners and children. Ozu is a reference point, obviously, but you might as well say Jean Renoir or Chekhov. It’s that good.