Interview with Nikolaj Arcel (director of Island of the Lost Souls)

Jack Sargeant, the 2008 curator of the Revelation Film Festival, describes the Danish fantasy/adventure film, Island of the Lost Souls, as “entertaining and fun… yet twisted, weird and a little subversive.” The film’s director, Nikolaj Arcel, seems reluctant to concur. When he hears this assessment, he laughs and then coyly admits, “I’d say the movie was actually a rather obvious homage to the kind of films that Hollywood does. I do try to infuse it with my own sense of humour, and a lot of heart and soul, but I think that it’s ultimately a very classical adventure film.”

Island of Lost Souls is, however, undeniably subversive in so much as it challenges our expectations of Danish cinema. Far removed from the more arthouse tendencies of Scandivian filmmakers (particularly those associated with the purity of the Dogma 95 film movement), this fast-paced, flashy, genre film is the last thing you’d expect from that corner of the globe. Arcel agrees, “It’s very different, but the really fun thing is that I’m working in the Denmark film town, right in with all the Dogma directors. During the process of editing then, most of these guys, like [Lars von] Trier and [Thomas] Vinterberg, would come in and help me edit and it was such a surreal experience, because it was clear that this was something very different.”

Arcel’s first film, King’s Game, was a political thriller, and much more in line with this Scandinavian tradition. “It was the success of that one that left me able to make something different this time,” Arcel explains. “After I’d finished it, I came to realise that this might be my only chance to make something expensive, so I decided to do something I’d dreamt of doing since I was a little kid, and that was an adventure film, which is basically what I had been brought up on…. I was really into those escapist fantasies like E.T. or Back to the Future – the kind that have an emotional, human story to them, with all these additional fantasy or supernatural elements.”

In Island of Lost Souls, this emotional core rests with the three central characters; Lulu, who has just moved into a small Denmark town with her recently-divorced mother, her new friend, Oliver, who is wrestling with his own family problems, and Hermann, the 19th Century soul who has possessed the body of Lulu’s younger brother, Sylvester. While the fantasy dimension evolves around them, Arcel’s characters remain firmly grounded in reality. They’re recognisable, relatable human beings, struggling to cope with these extraordinary events.

For Arcel, it was also important to position a strong female (Lulu) at the centre of the film. He ponders aloud: “I guess that shouldn’t be subversive, but maybe, sadly, you could see it that way. Certainly, here in Denmark, we have this tradition, this cliché, that every time you make this kind of fantasy film, even if it is for kids, it has to be about boys – boys having adventures. Most of my scripts have a girl as a main character, and I thought that just for once it would be good to make an action film with a girl at the centre, which was a very interesting challenge.”

Despite this all, however, Arcel maintains that he’s always seen his film as one for children. “I was actually sure that it would not be a particularly Festival-ish film,” he says. “I also never thought it would translate very well. Let’s say for you Australians, for example, you don’t have that pride of ‘Oh wow, they made a Danish adventure film,’ you don’t care about that! You have so many big great films of your own, and so many other English language films of the same sensibilities, so I did not think that this would travel so well. But then it’s always so hard to predict how your own films will be received.”

It’s definitely another unexpected choice for the Revelation programme, particularly as an opening night film. Then again, though, Revelation is far from your ordinary film festival. As Sargeant described it, “The festival is all about throwing people curve balls. I really wanted to have a family film on Day One, because people would never suspect that.”

Revelation Film Festival

A zealous defender of the underground and the independent, Jack Sargeant has little time for the blockbusters of mainstream cinema. Instead, he has devoted his life to the hunt for more open and more challenging forms of filmic expression. Having written several books on the topic of underground cinema, contributed writing to various other collections and publications, and extensively toured through the world’s largest independent film festivals, he has a CV to match his passion and the perfect for Revelation Film Festival’s 2008 curator. The hunt for films beyond the mainstream has after all been his life’s focus. It’s only appropriate then, that when I arrive to meet Sargeant at a bustling Mt Lawley café, I catch him in the midst of an impassioned discussion about the latest Narnia film and its many vices.

This discussion inevitably provokes Sargeant to list a couple of independent films that have worked within a simple genre to produce cleverer results. “I’ve been doing it since I was 20, I’m wired this way!” Sargeant professes. “There’s a poster for The Velvet Underground that says, ‘So far underground you get the bends,’ and I’m like that. People ask where I found this or that film, but it’s just my world. I can sense these things. It’s like spider senses, but I have an underground film sense, just because I’ve been involved in that world for so long.”

For Sargeant, the Revelation programme evolved organically from a process that involved contacting old friends and following word of mouth. Appropriately, the final film list does mirror Sargeant’s own interests and passions. In particular, the high number of music documentaries reflects his concurrent interest in particular genres and musicians. For example, What we do is Secret, a biopic in the style of Control, focuses on one of Sargeant’s favourite bands, The Germs, while My Name is Albert Ayler and Weird Old America reflect his interest in free jazz and folk respectively. “All these music films are about stuff that I really love,” he admits. “It’s about sharing the music as much as it is about sharing the film, so will hopefully appeal to film and music buffs alike.”

While it may mirror Sargeant’s personality, the programme also paints a picture of trends in independent and underground cinema. As usual, it is dominated by documentaries; 19 to 11 features. “In terms of film as form of empowerment for individuals, anyone can make a documentary,” Sargeant suggests. “Everyone has a camera and editing software these days, so a lot of documentaries are being made, like Tarnation [which screened at a previous Revelation Film Festival] which was made for like $100. And obviously these films aren’t all getting a lot of attention. A lot more feature films are picked up by distributors, and if they’re going to be picked up and screened widely then there’s no point in showcasing them here. So, Revelation has always had a history of focusing on documentaries.”

Joining Revelation’s documentary hall of fame is a whole host of films focused on musicians, as well as a couple of quirky numbers such as The Last American Freak Show (the title says it all) and Hell on Wheels (which looks at 1970s’ women’s roller derby). There are several films that look specifically at individuals; Words of Advice follows William Burroughs during the last years of his life, while Gonzo: The Life and Death of Dr. Hunter S. Thomson combines archived footage and extensive interviews to present the infamous author as he has never been seen before. Some social documentaries have also made the cut, including Begging Naked, which looks at the impact the recent New York clean-up had upon the poorer portion of its people, and Flow, which focuses on water politics and economics. Sargeant is adamant that these films achieve something that more mainstream documentaries may struggle with, particularly An Inconvenient Truth.

“All these hipsters have gravitated towards Al Gore but he’s part of the power machine and I find that very troubling,” he sighs. “Al Gore’s wife Tippa Gore actually persecuted The Dead Kennedys for being obscene; she was one of the Washington Wives. And Al Gore, he wants to be in charge of America, so that’s an instant warning… [These Festival films] are different, they’re made by people who are politically directly engaged, and Begging Naked is actually made by a friend of one of the women who is the documentary’s focus.”

The programme is also dotted with a fair portion of films that explore specific Australian issues. The Tumbler is an Australian thriller that explores Australia’s experience of colonialism through its multicultural characters. Spirits, another documentary, explores the nature of Nyoongar storytelling. Sargeant adds, “It’s an amazing documentary… and I’m not interested foregrounding it as about indigenous issues, it’s just a really good film. I think that as soon as you start labelling films, people start projecting meaning on them.”

The label of “Queer,” however, is one that Sargeant has applied to some of his films, though he appreciates the gravity of the term. “There are large parts of the gay community who would rather see it called Gay Cinema or Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Cinema; it’s a political gesture on my part as a curator…,” he explains. “It’s a term that engages with a whole range of political and cultural gestures, but it’s appropriate because the Queer films that we’re screening, Pangrogeny Manifesto, Words of Advice and even Cthuli (a thriller) are all about gay and lesbian politics in a way.”

Finally, the programme also includes a focus on experimental film, with a special event showcase of work from Britain. We discuss the hesitation that seems to stop certain people from engaging with experimental film and Sargeant chews over the topic: “I don’t know what people think experimental cinema is, but it’s beautiful stuff. It’s stunning to look at, vivid, vibrant cinema. People are scared of the word “experimental,” but in The Matrix, all that dodging of bullets and floating in mid-air is experimental, and that Australian film last year, Noise, that sound of tinnitus is also experimental. Yesterday’s experiments are tomorrow’s normal cinema, so every experiment in cinema is a good one.

“Change is good, risk is good, people should want to risk things and change their perspective. That’s the importance of Rev; that it will give you something you’re not going to normally see.” At this point I ask if he has any personal recommendation, and Sargeant suggests that everyone should see simply one thing that they had not previously heard of. “Take a risk, the worst thing that will happen is that you’ll see something you don’t like,” he urges. “But at least you will have seen something that has challenged you and changed you and that you can talk about. Otherwise, you can always just go and watch Narnia.”

Unfinished Sky

Adopted from the Dutch drama The Polish Bride (De Poolse Bruid), Unfinished Sky was originally the story of a Polish woman who moved into Holland after the fall of the Berlin Wall, pursuing prostitution in order to finance the daughter she had left back at home. In Australian version, rewritten by Peter Duncan (Children of the Revolution), the same Dutch actress, Monic Hendrickx, returns to play the heroine, but now she is an Afghani refugee called Tahmeena, who has fallen into a desperate set of circumstances in a small Queensland town. The film opens as Tahmeena, bruised, bleeding and hysterical, wanders onto the property of the withdrawn farmer John Woldring (William McInnes). Fortunately, John fears police more than he fears strangers, and so he keeps the strange woman a secret. As he slowly brings her back to life, they communicate through an endless game of charades and mumblings, and Tahmeena’s Dari is not sub-titled, so we experience the frustration of miscommunication right alongside him. This continues, until gradually (and predictably) Tahmeena and John find that their connection exceeds the limitations of language.

The fact that this Dutch story could so easily be transformed for an Australian audience raises some interesting points about our world’s shared experience of globalisation, and the universality of human connection. Sadly, the film is ill-equipped to deal with such meaningful messages. Yes, there are some lovely moments in the film (the chemistry between Tahmeena and John feels genuine), and certainly these are important and topical themes. It’s also refreshing to see McInnes to take on a new role (not the fast-talking journalist for once), and actually deliver a convincing performance as the stoic farmer. Beyond Tahmeena and John’s enthralling connection, however, the film feels cheap, as if underdeveloped. The secondary characters are all flat caricatures, the dialogue often feels contrived and stilted, and the inclusion of so many arbitrary flashbacks serves only to belittle Tahmeena’s traumatic past. With each new scene, the plot grows more and more unbelievable – watch out for Tahmeena’s almost instant grasp of English! When you’re noticing inconsistencies like that, you know the film has made a mistake somewhere along the line.

Rating: 6.0

Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian

If you haven’t seen the first film or read all the books, the second instalment in the Chronicles of Narnia might leave you feeling as if you’ve missed some crucial detail along the way. For a film to have you yearning for a “Previously on Narnia” segment is never a good sign, and it’s a reflection of how, from the offset, this film fails to deliver on the plot front. In terms of plot, we start off by following the four Pevensie children as they return to the magical world of Narnia. Previously their portal was a wardrobe, but now it is the London underground, where they’re awaiting a coming train when a sudden gust of magic sweeps them onto an idyllic beach in Narnia. 1300 years have passed since their last visit, and the decadence they once enjoyed has been destroyed, with the diminished Narnian populace now hunted by the aggressive Telmarines. The magic that once filled the land is fading fast, and, with Aslan in hiding, the only way to for the children to save Narnia is by enlisting the support of the recently-exiled Telmarine Prince, Caspian (Ben Barnes).

While you might be expecting the plot to develop from there, it really doesn’t. The film’s central conflict simply develops into a series of elongated battle scenes that swiftly become repetitive and tedious to watch. The filmmakers are clearly channelling The Lord of the Rings here, but their choreography and computer-generated warriors are far inferior (when getting through some of those LOTR battles was already a challenge for many). Some sort of romantic chemistry is half-heartedly developed between Caspian and Susan (Anna Popplewell), but that never really gets off the ground. Aslan and the White Witch appear in what can only be described as ‘cameo’ appearances that feel rather arbitrary and distracting. The talking animals and the stunning scenery are highlights, but even a humorously indignant mouse voiced by Eddie Izzard won’t make up for the lack of a compelling story.

Rating: 6.0

Is Green the New Black?

“There’s no debate in this town without me – on any issue or at any level of government or religion or even in a household. I will always be called in. My opinion is sacrosanct in this town.”

These humble words belong to Perth comedian, Paul “Werzal” Montague, one of six comedians invited to participate in the upcoming “Is Green the New Black?” Comedy Debate. Hosted by the Conservation Council, and set to take place on World Environment Day, the debate will be traditional in structure, but unique in its speakers. With Malcolm Dix, Andrew McDonald, Steven McKiernan, Xavier Susai, and Nicole Hodgson joining Werzal, the ideas expressed are bound to get a little controversial.

Personally, Werzal doesn’t consider himself ‘green,’ and admits that his carbon footprint is “probably king-kong like.” Werzal was obviously selected not for his position on environmentalism, but rather for his comedic expertise. He has been moving through Perth’s comedy scene since the early nineties, and has worked as a comedian for both the ABC and 96FM. For him, environmentalism is just “something you do.” That said, Werzal’s more pragmatic appraisal of environmentalism does leave him in an ideal position to argue for the negative side of this debate.

“I think the organisers clearly read which people made sense for which side,” Werzal agrees, “because there will be a lot of comedians on the positive side, like Malcolm Dicks or Andrew McDonald, who will inevitably leap on the bandwagon to try and impress the smelly-armpit-dreadlock brigade by harping on about the environment. The thing is that I have no objection to saving the planet. I’m into that, just let’s not pretend it’s cool. That’s all I’m saying.”

Werzal doesn’t agree that Hollywood’s recent attention to climate change issues renders environmentalism attractive. Instead, he believes that “the more you preach something, the less sexy it becomes,” even when hot young things like Cameron Diaz and Leonardio DiCaprio are heading the campaign. “The more celebrities stand up and preach, the less cool it is and the less cool they are. The thing is that, with the impact of human existence on our poor little planet earth, we’re never going to be able to relax and say, ‘Everyone’s doing a great job, just chill out for a while and we’ll get back to these practices in ten years.’ The urgency is always going to be there, and as long as people are saying ‘Do it, do it, it’s got to be done,’ it’s never going to be hip.”

He explains his position by likening conservation to toe-nail cutting, as something that you can care about only in so much as you know it has to be done. “It’s a pragmatic issue, like teeth-flossing or monogamy,” he adds. “It’s something you do because the consequences of not doing it are worse than doing…. I object to the premise of ‘green is the new black’ because it kind of implies that green is somehow sexy, that it’s cool or hip. It’s neither cool nor hip, or sexy or mysterious like black. It’s not fun, it’s not good times, it’s not something you feel special doing, it’s just something you do.”

With such passionate conviction, it will be interesting to see Werzal under the pressure of rebuttal. He believes, however, that comedy is ideally pre-disposed to respond to such questions. “It’s a temptation to get too political or too preachy but you’ve definitely got to do this,” he emphasises. “I think what comedy has to do is look at what we’re being told and ask questions of it. A lot of these issues are present to us as, ‘We must…’ And what I want to do, as a comedian, is ask ‘We must… what?’ or ‘We must… why?’”