The Fight is Worth it: An Interview with Frans van de Staak
Frans van de Staak & Gerdin Linthorst, 1989
Translated by Veva Leye
The following interview with Frans van de Staak originally appeared in the film magazine Filmkrant in February 1989, around the release of his film Deed Undone.
Frans van de Staak
Like Your Garden Plot, The Delayed Departure and Windshade before, Frans van de Staak's latest film will premiere at the Rotterdam Film Festival. Deed Undone is a contemplation in recurring images, again based on the poetry of Gerrit Kouwenaar. In conversation with Gerdin Linthorst, the Netherlands' most independent filmmaker tries to explain his working method and motives in more detail.
GL: The starting point for Deed Undone are two poems by Kouwenaar: In deze kamer [In This Room] from the collection De stem op de 3e etage [The Voice on the 3rd Floor] and the last part of the cycle Momentopname van een dood punt [Snapshot of a Dead Point] from Data/Decors [Data/Decors].
FvdS: No, the starting point was actually all of Kouwenaar's poetry, and some conversations with him. The poems were added to the screenplay when it already more or less existed. The film is not about these poems, it is inspired by them you could say. In Windshade, there was still an attempt to incorporate the poems in the film by having Kouwenaar read them. Here, they are placed on screen at the beginning, middle and end. You can hardly read the first poem, it’s not intended to be read. I almost want to say: just take that volume and read the poem in print.
What initially struck me is the extraordinarily scanty use of language and words in Deed Undone. Did you want to have a look at what’s behind language this time?
What did you say there? Have a look at what’s behind language... yes. Of course, language will always be very important, it was not a conscious decision to use very little language this time. But perhaps [to use it] from a different perspective. Poetry involves a different perspective on language than prose, too. You can write a poem in four words, for a piece of prose you need pages and pages. It’s about such a comparison. Language is very important in this film also, but it is indeed sparsely present.
I see a film in which different characters are followed through the city by means of tracking shots. In a recurring route, back and forth. In between these walks, some simple actions are performed by the characters, who form different pairs each time. They are played by well-known actors like Titus Muizelaar, Olga Zuiderhoek, Catherine ten Bruggencate, Thom Hoffman. What exactly did you want to tell with Deed Undone?
Attempts are constantly being made. I show the way to the attempt and the way back, in whatever field it happens. For instance, Thom Hoffman tries to catch a mosquito. Whether he actually succeeds does not matter, the result does not matter.
Isn't it mainly about attempts to communicate, about loneliness, powerlessness?
Well, look, if you say so then so be it, I'm not going to argue otherwise. In that respect, you are as right as I am. I mean, lack of communication might play some kind of a role. But I never put it that way, you know. I'm not very fond of that term ‘an attempt to communicate’, I don’t know what to do with it. But there's something in it, you're right about that.
You only show the attempt in itself and you draw no conclusions.
Right, yes, I mean... that's right. Then you might ask why not? Because what matters to me is the attempt itself, because I equate the result with the attempt. It has no consequences, it’s actually of secondary importance. The battle that is fought to get to that result, that is what matters, that is worthwhile. Because once you have fought that fight and see that you have won, you actually don’t care about the result anymore. It no longer matters.
Phantoms
Shoes, there are a lot of shoes in your film. And laces, tying and untying of laces. Does that mean something?
No, I hadn't noticed that. My father was a shoemaker, maybe that's why. But it's not in my other films. Apart from being a cobbler's son, maybe it also has to do with the fact that those people simply walk a lot. But I didn't do that on purpose, it's funny you say that.
There are also numerous attempts to put words in writing. Is it true that most of the sentences are quotes from the poems?
Yes. Because I knew I would be referring to those poems through the intertitles, I also wanted to somehow bring the notion of language on paper into the film. Because those poems exist as language on paper. That's why the actors write down texts. Do you find it disturbing that they do that?
No, absolutely not, in fact I didn't expect otherwise. Because language, words, sentences always play a big role in your work. You've kept it very much within limits here.
Yes indeed, haha.
The few comments made by the characters are of a surprised kind: “Are you in a hurry?”, “Are you still here?”, “What are you going to do?”. It’s a bit like one person suddenly becomes aware of the other person. Can you explain what exactly moves your characters?
No.
That’s difficult. Now how do we get an interview like this.
Haha. Um… let me think about it for a second. I can't figure it out, that question. I don't treat them as real persons, they remain film shapes, phantoms, I don't try to turn them into characters. If there is a kind of alienation around those characters, it exists because of the fact that the transience of everything cannot be made tangible. They walk a lot because I see every step the actors take as an attempt to take another step forward. That sounds very trite but... um... if you have moved forward then you have also moved forward in time. But that's a bit abstract. I just think people who are walking are beautiful and I hope some other people think so too.
Do you find it hard to talk about your films, don't you like it?
It's awkward yes, but it doesn't matter.
I can imagine picturing a film like this largely from intuitive feelings. If you have to put it into words, it flattens out.
That's true, it's annoying to be half wrong. Some things you are not aware of, or don't want to be aware of. Or you are indeed aware of them in an intuitive way that you cannot explicitly formulate or code.
You work very much from literature, from words and formulations, and at the same time you are now asserting the inadequacy of language.
Well, for me then huh. A poet knows how to formulate. But in my creative process, there are lots of things I don't want to or can't formulate in words.
You formulate in images. Aren’t you a poet in a way?
I wouldn't use these words myself, but I like it when you do it. I can relate to that.
Transcience
What was it in Kouwenaar's poetry that drew you to this film?
The aura of those poems. It's hardly reasoned. For me, that poetry is so tangible, so concrete and profound that I wanted to try to do something with it in film. To see if that was possible. And beyond that, of course, there are a number of substantive aspects to that poetry that attracted me.
Can you name a few?
Jeez.
What elements in Kouwenaar's poetry gave you the idea of having those people walk back and forth, making attempts?
Those attempts I got from his poems, just not always in such a direct way. Somewhere, of course, a kind of transformation took place in me. Someone else undoubtedly would process that poetry very differently. It is very difficult for me to dissect that poetry and what of it appealed to me. I have a reluctance to capture that. But it has to do with the fact that one likes to make so many things tangible, while the transience of one’s own life is so very intangible. That contradiction, that tragedy is what attracts me to Kouwenaar's poetry.
Is that adequately portrayed do you think, now that your film is complete?
That's for you to say.
No, no, that's for you to determine now. You can also conclude that you should actually devote three more films to it.
I'd rather not talk about that today, but in a month or so. I can very well imagine thinking then: I should actually devote three more films to it. But that becomes very unrealistic. The Film Fund Committee already had objections because I already made Windshade and now I wanted to make a second film about Kouwenaar's work. Suppose I arrive as a madman with three more projects, that doesn’t stand a chance of course. But I could imagine it, so that ‘adequately’ you refer to is relative. But I feel that I am satisfied.
Do you have an emotional connection with your characters or are they just pawns on your chess board?
I do have an emotional bond with my actors, not with my characters. They don't really exist for me, are only aspects of.
Instruments to demonstrate something. In all your films, actually.
Yes, that’s right.
Emotions always matter less, it's about more abstract things.
But then I think, I don't know if I avoid emotions, I don't think so. What am I saying now? Um… I think there are plenty of emotions in here too, but they are treated differently.
You translate feelings into a movement, an action.
Yes, it can't actually be called abstract either. Every attempt, reaching for something, already has an emotion in it. But your comment is not so crazy, you mean I don't use recognizable emotions as units to build a film with. Most films do that, they use emotions, clichés sometimes as dramaturgical units. Indeed, I never use delineated emotions to build a dramatic structure with.
Which means you do not manipulate the audience through recognizable emotions that evoke an identical feeling in them. Which creates the risk that the spectator ...
...falls asleep halfway through.
No, not that either.
No, but I do realize that. You have to be receptive to it, it's a matter of taste: one likes beer, the other likes wine.
A small audience
Your audience has always been small. Does that never bother you?
No, it doesn't bother me that much. I think it's good actually, those films are not meant for everyone.
You don't make any concessions to a larger audience.
No. Oh well, a lot of poets also only sell a thousand copies. As long as it has an audience, I don't think its size is very relevant. But it’s a fact that film involves a lot of money. One could ask oneself whether it is economically justified to make such an expensive product for, say, a thousand people. I think so, but it's not really my problem. I can only make films that also have something to tell me. That is exactly the battle I fight: to make something that is a mystery until it is made. If other motives come into play, I wouldn’t feel like doing it.
The price one pays for that is fairly high: a small audience, a short period during which one’s films are shown, a shaky financial base, also in one’s private life.
I don't think that price is too high. Other filmmakers, Annette Apon, Frans Weisz, to name a few, have to scrape together a million and a half each time for a new film. This film received a subsidy of 60,000 guilder. One must make use of this small amount of money extremely wisely. But I am willing to pay that price.
You are the only Dutch filmmaker who shows every new film in Rotterdam.
That was just because of Huub Bals, who always took them. And I also have an audience at that festival, whereas after the festival there’s not a lot happening to my films.
What does Rotterdam mean to you?
It is a very attractive place, every year something happens there that has to do with film as I experience it. It is stimulating and I hope it stays that way. The international allure of course had everything to do with the openness and sincerity Huub radiated towards film. It was about love of film, not about economic motives. You felt from the festival the character of Huub, who took all kinds of films just because he loved them.
Finally, the bonus question: what do you still hope to achieve?
My next film.
- Gerdin Linthorst
Translated from Dutch by Veva Leye
