by Basie Campbell
What are the advantages of a cinematic window into a culture using symbolism and unspoken interactions, rather than traditional verbal storytelling?
I find that it allows me to focus with greater magnitude on atmosphere and emotion. My primary goal with Kora is to do one thing: to instill a sense of awe. In an era where the average American has a cell phone that doubles as a computer with access to the wealth of the world's knowledge, we often forget that there's still mystery to the world. And I don't mean in the theological sense as to: "What lies beyond this plane?" or any form of Fortean explorations. Merely, there are eccentricities to cultures that we don't realize exist. When I first visited China in 2011, I was enamored with the culture, largely because so many elements were altogether new to me. It was as if I'd stepped through the looking glass into a totally different world, and was intrigued by event the slightest minutia, because to me it wasn't routine. Daily chores and rituals to the Chinese were a source of fascination for me, and so I chose to try and present the culture in that same light within the film. I didn't want the film to be a traditional documentary, for that would reduce it to a travelogue. Rather, I wanted to restrict the audience's view of the whole in such a way that they feel like invisible travelers in this foreign realm, and are filled with a sense of wonderment at the end of their journey.
Do you/did you prefer shooting in urban industrialized environments or natural/rural landscapes?
I enjoyed both for very different reasons. The cityscapes were accompanied with an element of convenience. If my Mandarin fell short, the odds are great that there would be an English-speaker nearby. That, and the cities felt almost more bizarre than the countryside;a refraction of the reality I'm accustomed, too. City life is still city life, regardless of the continent, but all elements were a permutation of the familiar, often accompanied by an aspect of novelty (from poor English translations of signs to odd variations of name-brand foods). However, once you get out of the city, away from the droves of other laowei (the Chinese slang term for "foreigners"), then it just becomes you, the road and what crude language skills you possess. In short, traveling alone in that kind of environment really forces you out of the comfort level you create for yourself in your daily life. Basic tasks, like trying to find camera film or a bus that will take you from one location to the next, become an adventure. That, and if you're traveling on your own in some of the obscure villages as I was, you're already a novelty to the locals. When you factor in my being 6'6", blonde and covered in tattoos, I'm a goddamned anomaly to those people. And as such, it wouldn't take long for several folks to approach and satisfy their curiosity by inquiring about why I was there. I'd explain the best I could with my crude Mandarin skills, and a short conversation later, I'd easily find myself being shown around town. They'd show me off to their friends, proud that they'd discovered me - their source of fascination and entertainment for the day. These are the people who really appreciated that I'd gone to the effort to learn the language, who were impressed that I'd taught myself what I knew, who were humbled that I wanted to capture their way of life on film, and who laughed at how crazy they thought it was that I was traveling by bus, bike or even hitchhiking all alone in ridiculously remote areas of the country. In the city, you don't get such a reception, for foreigners and tourists are all too common. But in China obscura, you become a celebrity...or a circus freak...but either way, you don't go unwelcomed.
How does your experience as a teacher effect your film making and/or how does teaching effect your film-making?
I suppose there are several elements at play here. In general, becoming a teacher has been a huge boon to my scripted film projects. I regard my fellow faculty as a veritable casting pool - many of the regular players in my films are colleagues. Teachers are essentially actors - you play a role when you're up in front of students that is scarcely who you really are. They tend to be naturals for my projects because it's just switching from one facade to the next. But as to how my avocation influenced Kora, that's a bit different, for in the absence of a script, I didn't need actors. Instead, I'll credit my specific discipline to aiding my focus. I teach Biology and AP Biology, and as such, the sciences, especially the biological sciences, encourage observation skills and curiosity about one's surroundings. I feel it would be naive to assume that doesn't lend itself to skill behind a camera. On the flip-side, film making is very much a hobby. In fact, I'm not a tremendous fan of the term "filmmaker," for I feel most people who label themselves as such are just out to make a name for themselves (akin to calling yourself a rock star just because you play a guitar, or a chef, because you like to cook...). I don't make films to support myself, and likely wouldn't want to. I believe you should do what you love for your family and friends, not a boss or a paycheck. Digression aside, I regard creative expression as one of the biggest priorities in my life. And I try to convey that to my students. The biology classroom can lend itself to creative outlets just as much as the art classroom - it's just up to the teacher to make that choice, and most don't I've found. Part of my opening day talk with new students is assuring them that they will have such opportunities in my class, for I value the bygone art of imagining and taking the time to express one's personality (not to be confused with expressing an opinion). That, I regularly discuss travel with my students as well (for the opportunities to travel dwindle with the onset of age and added obligations to jobs and families), encouraging them to get out of the microcosm of Shepherdsville, KY, if only for a couple of weeks, because there's no other way they'll be able to see their lives in a new light. I didn't have such focuses early on in my teaching career, and admittedly, such changes might come about with experience, but I feel that film making has led to that positive focus in my classroom.
I did a piece with William Bryan Ragland a few issues ago and we briefly discussed Kora. How was it working with William again, and why did you choose a singular source of music for Kora?
I love working with Will. The average person might look at the two of us and think we're on completely opposite ends of the spectrum, but when it comes to tastes in films and music, and more importantly, creative expression, I think we're pretty simpatico. During the scoring for both Symbiosis and Kora, I would make a trip into town just to listen to his live-scoring in his studio. There is just something about listening to his music at an organ-rattling volume as he dreams it up that makes all the pieces of imagery in my head come together. The two of us had been casually chatting for years about how we needed to collaborate on a film in the vein of Godfrey Reggio's Qatsi Trilogy or the nonnarrative films of Ron Fricke (Chronos, Baraka, Samsara). When I realized that I had the potential to film something of that nature during my upcoming trip to China, he was down in an instant. So he had the context of the type of project I was doing from the start (as opposed to any other composer where I would have to loan them those films to use as a reference). Will is one of the most versatile musicians I know and I knew it was within his ken and ability to incorporate Eastern sounds within his own music to complement the film - specifically his style in the vein of his Cosmonaught or Misc, Etc albums. I also felt it was best to stick with one predominant composer, for if the film switched musicians every several minutes, then it could detract from the imagery on screen. For the project to work, the music and visuals needed to sync in perfect harmony, and we both felt in the end that they do. Ultimately, our process was this: first, I would look over the imagery I wanted to edit and suggest a rough length and tone (the only time he felt he couldn't capture what I'd suggested was we asked Tony Robot of Ultra Pulverize, aka Chris Vititoe, to guest write a piece). Next, Will would generate a piece or two, if not more, and send them to me. From there, I'd listen them on loop until I knew the beats by heart and edit the footage accordingly. Finally, I'd run the edit by him and the two of us would debate whether the segment was too long, too short, etc. Often it would seem like a splitting of hairs, but for a project of this nature, the addition or subtraction of a few seconds really does make a world of difference. In the end, we both felt the final product was the best work we'd each done and were left with only one question: what project should we do next?
How did you interact with individuals who appeared in the film?
I covered this a bit when discussing the differences on being in the city vs. countryside, but for the better part, I stayed back from the moment I was endeavoring to capture and just let it happen. I shot 35mm film for years before I caved in and bought a digital camera, and as such, learned that you really can blend into the background and become invisible when you have a camera blocking your face,provided you allow that to happen. Most individuals who were in the film were oblivious to my existence, despite the fact that I stick out like a sore thumb in that culture. For the other individuals who are clearly interacting with the camera, typically the case was they approached me, out of inquisitiveness, as I was filming something else. Once I explained what I was doing, they were usually pretty receptive to letting me add them to my collection of Chinese curiosities, so to speak. I'm also glad I started out in 35mm, for training yourself on a camera with only 24 shots teaches you the discipline of making each shot count, as opposed to regarding every image you capture as dispensable. I treated every image in Kora as a 35mm still image, in terms of composition, angle, etc. and feel that what I captured benefited from this guideline in a long run.
Did you work with or correspond with any Chinese or Tibetan filmmakers during the making of Kora?
No. I would have loved to had I met any, but outside of Hong Kong, Chinese filmmakers are few and far between...at least those making projects outside of the government or CCTV's watchful eye.
I read that 1960's Outer Limits influenced you in earlier work, and perhaps it's a conclusion that my mind jumped to alone but, did Outer Limits and other early sci-fi/horror influnces have a hand in your decision to open and close Kora with a sort of classic hypnosis narration?
Subconsciously, perhaps. The narration was an "after thought" to an extent. Once I began editing, I realized that there would be a lot of comparisons of Kora to Koyaanisqatsi or Baraka, because there are very few non-narrative films out there (sadly). I also realize that the ultimate, subjective difference between a film being regarded as an homage and not a ripoff is whether people like it or not. So I strove to add elements to Kora that would make it feel very different, while paying tribute to the works that influenced it at the same time, and the opening narration was one of the biggest components of that. I didn't want this to be the type of film that people would just put on in the background and half watch. That opening narration necessitates you stop what you're doing and pay attention. Furthermore, I felt the overall project was going to turn out very dreamlike and quite relaxing, and a desire to enhance that for all it was worth was how the narration was borne. It might seem gimmicky, but I encourage all viewers to "play along" with the hypnotist by closing and opening their eyes when commanded, for it truly does induce a lucid, trance-like state, enhancing the film's power.
Did the conceptualization of Kora lead you to Asia or did Asia lead you to the conceptualization of Kora?
The latter. As mentioned earlier, China imbued such an overwhelming sense of awe in me in 2011, I felt the need to bring back that awe when I returned in 2013...which I suppose it almost seems strange to think that rather than bringing back baubles and cheap trinkets as souvenirs for my friends, I brought back an emotion and a state of mind.
Were your human subjects individuals who fit a sought after character or image that was vaguely conceived of before shooting, or was each individual found without a precedent role and brought in elements of unique personality?
Very much the latter. As I mentioned above, I wanted to bring back the wonder of China with me, but as to how I was going to do that, I was clueless and chose to work it out once I got there. In addition, to plan out any shots ahead of time would have been ill-advised. Where directors like Godfrey Reggio or Ron Fricke had tremendous advantage over me when it came to their filming Koyaanisqatsi or Baraka and Samsara, respectively, is they had time and money. They could afford the luxury of staying in a location for a week or two for a single shot, whereas I was living out of a backpack and constantly on the move. That is another element of Kora that I feel separates it from the rest - it's very much a film of sheer serendipity. Not a single shot in the film was planned. Every image you see was captured in the moment, and it was pure chance that I lucked into the beauty that I did.
Early on, I foolishly sought to create the film in a no-budget mimicry of Fricke's style, but I soon learned that would not work. Point in case: on my first day of "filming" (I put that in quotation marks because loosing myself in China was my priority, not going to China to make a film) I went to the Temple of Heaven in Beijing. It's a gorgeous structure and I loved the idea of capturing it with a bit of time lapse. Problem #1: it was smoggy the day I went, so I could either pay to come back another day or just settle for a static shot. Problem #2: it was crowded as hell and there was no way I was going to get an open window for a clear shot. Then I backed up and realized that the essence of that moment was those people getting in my way to pose for cameras. I began to film people posing for other cameras instead, and so all you ever see of the Temple of Heaven in the finished film is what little pieces of it you see out of focus behind people posing. It felt very true to that moment in time, because as you view the film, you're thinking, "Move out of my way," as well as realizing, as I did, what a bizarre ritual it is to have a picture taken of yourself standing in front of an object to prove you were there.
That then became my rule for filming while I was traveling; I sought to capture the character of that fragment of time, that point on Earth. In short, I woke up each morning and went out in search of what I didn't know I was seeking. China revealed its soul to me through happenstance. If I went back ten more times, I would likely capture it ten different ways. Kora is just one of countless experiences that China could have offered forth to share.
Additionally, in the end I had nearly 33 hours of footage that I whittled down to an hour and eighteen minutes (Will and I agreed before I began editing that the film should be the length of a standard CD). I could easily edit a variety of permutations for the film if need be, but the outcome, as it exists, is the right one.
In many scenes you are shooting on busy streets where subjects are less individualized and instead framed in a holistic view of motion and life, lending a feeling of chaotic anonymity to the viewer (and perhaps to the filmmaker?) In others, subjects are given a more intimate focus, their emotional expressions are singled out and magnified. Could you give an idea of how that dichotomy of interaction feels as a filmmaker? (How does the contrast in method effect your personal relation to what you create?)
A lot of what you mention is, I feel, one of many interpretations of the imagery on screen. Ultimately, it's all an extension of my experience in the country. There's no intentionality behind the sensation of chaotic anonymity within the noisy, mephitic din of the metropolitan areas - that perception is merely the reality of that location. I merely strove to objectively capture all that I encountered, free of staged arrangements or a skewed perspective that's borne of a desire to make a viewer feel predetermined emotion. The viewer is truly seeing that world through "my eyes" as I perceived it firsthand. As such, not only does this level of voyeurism allow the viewer to vicariously experience this alien world, but it's also incredibly personal for me, for I regard it as an extension of myself.
Films with little to no dialogue or speech certainly have an established intrigue, a manipulation of sensory focus, and enable a distinct alternative to how modern viewers prominently process film. Personally what led you to make Kora in this way?
This has probably been covered more than once in previous answers, but... my main intention was not to sway the viewer into regarding China in one particular way. It, like all cultures, has a mix of good and bad. There are segments within Kora that are as beautiful as other segments are horrific. I endeavored to treat all these elements of the culture equally, and found the best principle to adhere to to ensure that happened was edit by visual, not subject. My strict guideline was that every single shot in the film not only had to have a visual connection to the shot that preceded it, but also to the shot that would follow it. The resulting product flows effortlessly from one subject to the next, not only making it hard to discern distinct sections within the film, but also allowing for subject material of a variety of natures to blend together. Fog-shrouded temples complement smog-ensconced skyscrapers. Labyrinths of artwork for sale in metropolitan markets are seen as wildly confusing as an ancient maze built for an emperor. Rivers of neon reflective off of well-polished cars in Beijing's business district flow to the irrigation canals of the rice terraces of Yunnan. In short, I wanted to represent everything - to have those who knew from experience through their travels to point at Kora and say: "That's China."
After the initial premiere of the film, I found that such was a summation by those few in attendance who'd traveled to the country. But it was offered forth by an audience member: "The film depicts what a Westerner would find eccentric or worth noting, but how do you think someone who was born and lived in China would react? Would that person be offended or enjoy it?" I had no answer, for I really couldn't begin to guess. So I took the film to a Chinese friend of mine who'd missed the premiere and watched it with her. Afterwards, I posed the question to her. She explained, "I can't answer that question very easily, because it's not a question about the movie for me. I watch Kora, and I'm seeing an extension of myself. I can't be offended, because I'm not offended by myself. I am happy to be who I am, and that film is me. " That complement alone told me that Kora succeeded in being everything it needed to be.
