Costa Botes on Creating from Scratch, DIY Film-making, and the Art of Making the Unusual Compelling

Interview conducted by David Feltman

Photo by Daniel Batkin-Smith

New Zealand filmmaker, Costa Botes, lives in a world filled with oddballs and madmen. Well, maybe not any more so than the rest of us, but the difference between us and Botes is that Botes has a camera, and a knack for portraying the unusual in a compelling way.

Botes has made both short and feature-length dramas, however, his love and primary focus over the past decade has been in documentaries. His body of work as a documentarian betrays an interest not so much in the peculiar as in the passions and ambitions that drive it, the spark of creativity that drive some to madness. It’s a motif that pervades even in his fictitious works like “Forgotten Silver.”

While Botes himself isn’t particularly eccentric (at least not in any outward way we’re aware of), this creative passion is something the man can certainly relate to. As an independent documentary filmmaker living in New Zealand, Botes is all too familiar with the DIY trials and tribulations of creating something from scratch. It’s a process no sane person would ever consider undertaking unless they had that spark in them, a process Botes was kind enough to give us a few pointers on.

What drew you to documentaries? What has held your focus there as a filmmaker?

An old truism states, “In drama, the director is God. In documentary, God is the director.” I started out as a drama director. Over the years I became frustrated with the process of daily trying to control the uncontrollable. And I noticed that the best bits of my films seemed to occur when unexpected things happened and I seized the moment. No matter how carefully something might have been scripted, it was perverse how accidents could deliver much more powerful images or ideas – as long as I was flexible enough to recognize these gifts of fate and use them. So I decided to embrace chaos, chance, and change instead of trying to control them.

Unlike a drama director who works with a script, I can’t work from a detailed road map. It’s not a case of not knowing where you are going; more that the exact pathway is unknown. So, shooting the film is a process of exploration rather than execution. It’s exciting and stimulating to work that way. I feel that documentaries are the most pure and instinctual form of film-making. It’s a form in which one is automatically much closer to the truth.

My models or teachers would be Les Blank, The Mayles Brothers, and, in particular, Werner Herzog, whose work has inspired me my whole career.

I’ve noticed many documentary filmmakers are guilty of relying too much on talking heads which makes for dull viewing. Your documentaries, however, maintain a brisk, dynamic pace. How do you avoid falling into such monotonous pitfalls?

There’s nothing wrong with talking heads. The problem is integrating a static shot of a face with more active or scenically interesting shots. My work tends to be voice led. But I do a lot of inter-cutting between people talking and hearing them over visual shots. I try to break up patches of dialogue with active visual sequences to give relief. And I am always looking for ways to make sequences as cinematic as possible.

I’m happy you thought my editing brisk. Some people might consider my films to be fairly languid.  I have tended to cut harder and faster as I’ve gone along, but in general I would not say my work is anywhere near as epileptic in style as the norm seen in contemporary reality TV.

For me, the greatest challenge of documentary, as in drama, has always been to maintain an effective balance of emotional involvement and clear exposition. Editing style tends to vary a bit with subjects, but I do try hard to be dynamic, by which I mean that the pace will vary as the story ebbs and flows. Going fast all the time can be as monotonous as going slow. Dull is dull at any speed. At the end of the day, what is most important is that an audience gets caught up in a story and that it takes them somewhere rewarding.

I think there has been a very noticeable dumbing down of the general audience over the past generation. Particularly on TV, people have got used to being spoon fed information, they’re not encouraged to retain information, join the dots, or make their own judgments. There is an impatience for exposition, and an expectation of being told what to think. Particularly in the USA as well, there is an almost depressing adherence to classical structure. The moment a story diverts from classic archetypes, the yawning and the scratching and the complaining starts. I don’t know what this means for the future of cinema as an art. But nothing good I fear.

A lot of your films focus on individuals (often eccentric) rather than general topics. Do you find that individuals make better subject matter than something like, say, war in the Middle East?

Yes. I would only make a film about war in the Middle East if it was focused on an interesting, charismatic individual. Anything else is more journalism or history. That’s not what a film-maker does. Others may disagree, but I think we trade most effectively in emotion than fact.

Maybe it’s my background in drama, but I personally find films with singular protagonists to be most compelling. I am most drawn to characters who in some way embody the theme of persistence of passion – people who have stayed true to their inspirations and beliefs, usually at some great cost.

What are the pros and cons of DIY film making?

While I appreciate and enjoy working with other people, there’s both challenge and opportunity in going it alone. The obvious upside of DIY film making is freedom – from all kinds of hard costs; but also in terms of time. With everything I need to shoot in one bag, I can be ready to go in seconds. Physically and creatively, DIY film-making has been an irresistible challenge to me. I was always bothered by ‘auteur’ labels. I figured the only way to be the true author of my work I had to make films the way a writer writes. By myself.

The downside is it can be lonely and anxious at times. It’s always nice to bounce ideas off someone else, or be inspired by a fresh interpretation. There are also inevitable limitations on the kind of film one can shoot when working by yourself.

What special obstacles do you have to face when making a documentary rather than a feature film?

All films are hard. The biggest problem with the kinds of documentaries I like to make is that there is no commercial market for them. Perversely, the public appetite for festival or ‘art’ documentaries has never been greater, but it is very, very difficult to get them funded or to build a sustainable business producing them. Traditional broadcast markets have all but disappeared, and theatrical distribution is very hit and miss. The current situation is flat out depressing. But there are signs of evolution and hope. Online ‘crowd funding’ and direct web marketing to customers are providing alternative ways to fund and distribute work.

Have you used online crowd-funding resources?

I have not used crowd funding resources to date, but it seems like an idea that has taken off very quickly, and I’m very much in favour of trying it with my next film, although probably more to supplement funding than pay for everything. Yet, who knows? It’s lovely to think that there are film makers now who can make films with complete artistic freedom, supported by people who believe in what they are doing completely outside of normal commercial restraints.

I don’t have a problem with reasonable commercial restraints, but the corporatization and commoditization of creative industries has become a serious malaise, leading inexorably to cultural stagnation. If the web is able to bring passionate audiences and film makers closer together again, then I’m all for it.

I think it is possible to make high quality films very cheaply, so crowd-funding is definitely viable. The bigger challenge is to draw enough income from the resulting film to make ongoing production sustainable. Distribution remains the toughest frontier.

I’ve noticed a recent flood of movies coming from places that people don’t often associate with film making, places as disparate as Norway and New Zealand. What do see contributing to this abundance of films? Is New Zealand simply becoming a more film friendly environment or are there other factors involved?

There is an across the board increase in the number of films being made around the world. That has been driven by access to cheap high quality digital tools and an explosion of film education globally. The irony is this massive increase in the numbers of wannabes has occurred at the same time as the biggest share of the global box office cake has been going to fewer and fewer movies. Hollywood films account for more than 95% of world film revenues. Maybe a dozen titles take half of that. It’s slim pickings for the rest of us. I’d like to see some positive change in this situation. It’s very unhealthy.

I would not say New Zealand is a film friendly environment. At least not in the sense of it being easier here to make films than anywhere else. The reverse is true. Our domestic market is too small to support much of an industry. We only make an average of 4-6 dramatic feature films a year, and a handful of indie documentaries. Most production here is for TV. Very parochial and often mediocre, with some shining exceptions.

You’ve collaborated with other filmmakers, namely Peter Jackson. Did you find sharing a director’s credit with someone to be a beneficial experience or was it restrictive?

The collaboration with Peter was very beneficial. “Forgotten Silver” would not have been made otherwise. We each brought different strengths to the production. I could not have done it alone, and Peter had plenty of other fish to fry. The downside, for me, is that Peter today gets most of the credit for the movie, which is understandable but rather unfair. But we did it, and the film exists, so I’m happy. That’s always the bottom line. Making things happen out of thin air. Sometimes it takes two to tango, but you’d better both be working from the same songbook. Directing is such a mercurial activity I would tend to avoid collaborations unless there was a really compelling reason to do it.

From what I’ve read on your blog, filming in Manitoba for “The Last Dogs of Winter” was a trying experience. What did you learn from tackling something so far out of your comfort zone?  Do you think you would try something so ambitious again?

The physical difficulties of filming in Manitoba were not that excessive. More a matter of discomfort than debilitating. There are certainly things I would never do: no thanks to climbing mountains or jumping out of airplanes. But in this case, I was well within my comfort zone, and I had a wealth of scenery and wonderful characters to motivate me every day. I intend to try and make another film set in the same area in the near future. I always weigh up everything I do in terms of logistical difficulties vs. creative opportunities. If it is easy, then likely as not, someone else has already done it.

I’m a big fan of “Forgotten Silver” do you think you’ll ever explore such satirical territory again?

It’s unlikely I’ll make another ‘mockumentary’. I sort of got that out of my system! But anyone who has watched many of my films will detect a certain consistency of theme and tone. “Forgotten Silver” fits right in. It’s a love letter to cinema, and to people who do things out of passion. At the same time, it pokes a sharp stick at the things I despise. I’m not shy about mocking or even attacking the things that displease me.

What advice would you offer to fledgling documentarians?

I’m often asked to give advice. The first thing I usually say is, “get a real job.” But if you’re still reading and you really want to make documentaries, then the following points might be helpful:

• People are interested in people, and people are always more interesting than events.

          For instance, I’ve had folks tell me they want to make a documentary about an event like a music     festival. Why? “Because it’s in a cool place, great scenery, the people are nice, and everyone had a great time.” Well. That sounds deadly boring to me. I always say, fine, but make it about someone. Maybe the organizer who has mortgaged their house to pay for everything, and if the weather turns nasty they’re going to be ruined. Or the brother and sister rock and roll act who have been rejected by every record label in the country and this is their last chance for a big break…I dunno. But you get the idea.

• Go for characters who want something badly and are having a hard time getting it. Focus your attention on a singular protagonist who is compelling or charismatic, and whose situation embodies concerns that are universal. Somebody you can root for, or feel sorry for, or admire. Or all of these things. They must engender identification, or at least empathy.

There we go, that’s my 2 minute film school!

Oh … very important, don’t use music you can’t afford to license. That’s a rock that’s broken countless low budget films. Music publishers will not be interested when you cry poor.It’s their job to make money, not give stuff away for free. So forget about that Rolling Stones track you can’t live without. Live without it and learn how to use Garage Band or some other self-help solution.

And one last thing…always try and find a strong personal concern in everything you do. A documentary can take a long time to make. One or two years is average. You need to care a lot to make it to the finish line.

Costa Botes’ “The Last Dogs of Winter” was recently an official selection at Toronto and IDFA film festivals and “Candyman: The David Klein Story” is currently available for instant viewing on Netflix. You can find more about Botes and his films at costabotes.com.