Tuesday 10 October 2017

Vancouver at the Vancouver International Film Festival



The last time I checked there were over a thousand film festivals a year – so that’s three a day.  No doubt that figure is increasing all the time.  So how and why does a filmmaker attend a festival? In my time, I have been to plenty all around the world – all are distinctive for one reason or another, and some are certainly more useful than others as far as distributing one’s new film is concerned.  One thing they do share is that they are a great place to see great films that you almost certainly will never otherwise have seen.

I know how hard it is to raise the funds to make decent films so I am always taken aback by how many good films do get made.  So, comment no.1 would be if your city has a festival, go every day and see as many films as possible.



As someone who adores documentaries I love going to festivals just to watch films. However, I simply don’t have time so I have to choose really carefully.  So, some will go to a festival to try and pick up distribution.  Festivals like Sundance, Toronto, Berlin, Cannes are full of new work looking for a home with someone who will bring them to the world. As we distribute our own films, that’s not relevant to me.  Plus I’m personally no fan of those hugely busy events where everyone is just a little bit too concerned about how they look and who’s there to notice.

Another reason to enter a festival to present your film for the first time to a paying audience and see what they think.  That is certainly one of the reasons I love Vancouver - the crowds are enthusiastic, informed and (it’s that Canadian thing!) very nice!  Reason no.3 is to pick up early reviews.  This is actually pretty important – you need reviews for the poster, the social media campaign and so on.  The one great thing about films is that they get far more reviews than anything you’ll do for TV or digital. Reason no.4 might be to pick up an award.  We’ve won plenty and I’ve no idea whether it has made much difference but it’s still nice.  Our new Hockney film picked up an Audience Award in its first screening and that was a great boost to us all.


Reason no.5 is festivals can be great fun. Again, Vancouver is my absolute favourite festival partly for that reason – they do everything right and look after us film-makers really well.  So, for example, instead of one big dinner for all the filmmakers that can be uncomfortable if you don’t know anyone and no-one has the sense to make introductions, Vancouver does small intimate lunches of 6-8 filmmakers each day. Much better and much more valuable.  Reason no.6: it can take you to some great cities – I still regret turning down festivals in Tehran, Kathmandu, Tallinn, Skopje, Busan, Kiev, Doha, and plenty more.  On the other hand, I’ve been to plenty of others and had a great time.


But I’ll come back to the reason that I think we all need to remember: there is no better place to see a film than in a cinema.  Most of the films I have seen this week in Vancouver have been excellent and, if I had seen them at all, it would almost certainly have been on my laptop. Please, I encourage you to buy my DVDs and download my films BUT the best place to see any film is in the cinema. Yesterday, I watched my own film David Hockney at the RA on a huge gorgeous screen at the VanCity Cinema in Vancouver – the quality of the sound and picture was out of this world.

That was a tough project for various reasons but yesterday all that was forgotten and it brought a tear to my eye.
Art Makes Us indeed.





Wednesday 28 June 2017

CANALETTO AND THE ART OF VENICE - AT THE QUEEN’S GALLERY, BUCKINGHAM PALACE

‘You are invited to Buckingham Palace’…  Now that is a phrase to seize anyone’s attention. I am a naturally curious soul and had always wanted to take a peek inside the palace. I have never done the tour that one can do in the summer months and so I have never seen the Picture Gallery – with its wonderful collection.  The reason for my new invitation was to discuss the production of CANALETTO AND THE ART OF VENICE - AT THE QUEEN’S GALLERY, BUCKINGHAM PALACE.  Now, if you haven’t been to see an exhibition at the Queen’s Gallery then you have been missing out.  The Royal Collection has around a million objects under its care so they can put on the most wonderful exhibitions from their own stores.  The Collection itself contains works from a dozen or so royal locations throughout Britain and is a wonderful national resource.  



When we heard about the possible Canaletto exhibition we knew right away it would make a great film. Who wouldn’t be excited to film in Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle? But even more than that, I hope any art lover would share with me the thrill of being able to take a really close look at the wonders of 18th century Venice.  Canaletto is the best-known artist of that period but far from the only one worthy of our attention. As ever, I am fascinated to know ‘why then and why there?’   If there is one European city that really can be called unique then it is Venice. What an extraordinary city – and a city that over the centuries of its unconquered empire produced some of history’s great artists.  



Canaletto is certainly among them but sometimes can be a little misunderstood. Some might think he simply does accurate portrayals of Venice landscapes to be then sold to both locals and travellers.  Anyone thinking that would be wrong. He is, in fact, a master storyteller in light who plays with reality for his own purposes.  To see his works out of their frames in the labs at Windsor or hanging in pride of place in Buckingham Palace – and to then listen to the two wonderful curators Lucy Whitaker and Rosie Razzall talking with great knowledge and insight – is a privilege which our film will share with you.  Or if, like me, you also fancy a peek inside one of the world’s great palaces, yes we can offer you that too!

Tuesday 7 March 2017

More on Monet...


Hi everyone...it's been a hugely busy few weeks with three films all coming to fruition.  The one we have just released is I, CLAUDE MONET and I'm delighted it's been so warmly received.   Here's a very nice article from a magazine I'd highly recommend if you're interested in France and all things French:  FRANCE CULTURE.   
 
 

Friday 27 January 2017

'My Head is Bursting' - Claude Monet as you've never seen him before

I am sure you all know the wonderful paintings by Claude Monet - especially perhaps the water lilies from Giverny.  It could be said that he is the world's favourite artist - certainly one of them.  And yet it almost never happened.   On the 29th June 1868 the young Claude Monet wrote the following letter:

I must have undoubtedly been born under an unlucky star. I've just been turned out, without a shirt on my back, from the inn where I was staying. I have found somewhere safe in the country for Camille and my poor little Jean to stay for a few days. As for myself, I leave this evening for Le Havre. My family refuse to help me any more.  I don't know where I'll sleep tomorrow. I was so upset yesterday that I was stupid enough to hurl myself into the water. Fortunately no harm was done.


Claude Monet 1899 Photo:Nadar

Was he rescued from the Seine by a passer-by? Did the shock of the cold water bring him to his senses?  We'll never know but on such moments the world turns. It is so easy to look back at an artist's life and think the path from youth to old age was somehow pre-destined; that such talent had to find its way, no matter what, to fame and fortune.  I think the opposite is true: such paths are strewn with obstacles: many turn back, or lose their way, or are struck down by misfortune and disappear.   I believe Monet lived with his knowledge all his life - he never considered himself (publicly at least) a great artist.  His letters (the basis of a recently finished film of mine - I, Claude Monet - soon to be released in the cinema) reveal a man forever troubled by the fragility of his own talent.  He never felt that he worked hard enough or saw clearly enough.  He was endlessly frustrated by what he thought of as his inability to capture nature correctly.


Claude Monet, The Japanese Footbridge, 1899, National Gallery of Art Washington

There are two dangers with Monet - one is that there are folk who are simply disinterested in art or the perceived chocolate box nature of the impressionists.  Or there are those who think they know everything there is to know about Monet.  Familiarity can, as they say, breed contempt.  Both camps are in the wrong.  I can argue all day why I think everyone is - certainly should be - interested in art.  It is such an integral part of our daily lives - the way a New Yorker might decorate their apartment, or a Pakistani truck driver might decorate their vehicle, or a Japanese Buddhist might build their temple...and so on and so on.  Nor is there anything confectionary about the impressionists - look closely, look again - look at our cinema screen and see the works in a way that has never in history been possible before.  And look afresh at the remarkable skill and creative imagination of these artists.

On a surface level there is so much pleasure to be had - look deeper and harder and you'll be even more rewarded.  As for those who feel they know all about Monet, I ask forbearance.  I often hear folk saying 'oh, we know all about...so & so".  Never is it true.  I thought I 'knew' Monet until I started reading his letters (around 3000 have survived) and, just as importantly, started really looking at his work again - in chronological order.  Throw in the historical, the economic, his peers, the personal, the technological...and what emerges is one of the most fascinating stories in the history of art.  His gaze may well have gradually withdrawn to his own garden, his own lily pond, the reflections on the water but the results tell a universal story as relevant today as the day he died in 1926.   After 85 minutes in the warm, comfortable confines of your local cinema, I think you'll have re-discovered the wonderful, inspirational Claude Oscar Monet.


Claude Monet, Impression Sunrise, 1872, Musee Marmottan