WATER WORLD: THE ANGIE DAVIS INTERVIEW.

From her home in the Byron Bay hinterland, Angie Davis has reached across oceans and continents to tell the story of Lobitos and its people. The Peruvian coastal village, its self-sustained emergence from under the shadow of ‘big oil’ and the surfing culture that has helped reform the region’s innate strength are examined in Double Barrel, the journalist-turned-filmmaker’s picturesque and deeply humanistic documentary.

In the US to support the festival rollout of her debut long-form work before returning home for the Australian premiere on February 27, Davis (pictured, above) spoke at length to SCREEN-SPACE about her love for the Lobitos community and how their struggle has inspired her, creatively and intellectually… 

What made the culture and people of Lobitos so alluring to you?

The people of Lobitos live a simplistic lifestyle without the modern comforts that we are accustomed to in the West. The rawness of north Peru’s coastal regions make for a number of complexities, such as a dramatic lack of rain, clean drinking water, and fertile soil. The locals are dependent on the ocean for food sources, yet the oil industry combined with commercial overfishing has significantly affected the fish stocks. Local fishermen have to venture further out to sea, in small boats or handmade balsa rafts at night, to hook a decent catch, which translates to greater running costs. I respect the local fishing community for enduring such hardships, while living with big smiles on their faces. And now the son’s of fishermen from the area are getting into surfing and living their lives around the tides and swells. It is this ocean-inspired lifestyle with the backdrop of the raw Peruvian desert that drew me to the area. 

How has the emergence of a modern surf culture integrated with the traditions of the township?

It hasn’t been so seamless. Lobitos was created as an oil town 100 years ago by BP, became one of the richest towns in Peru, and then fell to ruins when the lefts took power in the 60s, expelling all foreign oil companies from the country. In the 90s, the beaches attracted the affluent surfers from Lima who built hostels and surf lodges straight onto the shoreline, which wasn’t exactly welcomed by the existing community who lived back off the ocean a few blocks inland. Surfing has definitely put Lobitos on the map, both domestically and internationally, but the rate of development is alarming. A combination of profit-driven objectives and an ignorant lack of knowledge about how delicate sand-bottom surf breaks are to the movements of sand, tides and wind (means) overdevelopment on the beachfront can lead to the complete destruction of the town’s primary profitable resource - the waves (pictured, right; Davis with environmental advocate and big wave surfer Harold Koechlin and an Andean local). 

Double Barrel balances a human-interest story, environmental/social issues and sports travelogue elements. How did you reconcile your objectivity of a journalist and empathy of a social commentator?

This story was close to my heart. I started writing humanitarian journals for Amnesty International and throwing fundraisers for Surfrider Foundation from when I was 18. I was a surfer with a burning desire to travel and soon recognized a link between great waves being located in underprivileged regions and wanted to explore that more. I was working on a luxurious surf travel piece when I found myself in Peru, but abandoned that story when I saw first-hand that Lobitos was not ready for an influx of wealthy surf tourists. I decided that a film would give Lobitos a chance to move forward more sustainably and challenge audiences to consider their role in the rise and fall of surf communities, or any developing communities, worldwide.

Which filmmakers inspired you? 

I grew up with Taylor Steele’s surf movies. My interview with him on his film Sipping Jetstreams was my first published magazine piece, and I watched him evolve as a filmmaker from action-packed surf films to more travel-inspiring cinematic ‘journey’ pieces. Taylor was a great mentor on Double Barrel. In the end I wanted to make a surf film with ‘everyday’ people that everyone could relate to, with inspiring travel cinematography supporting a story that inspires hope. Too often environmental films finish with that feeling of “wow, I have no idea what I can do to help save the world.” Double Barrel highlights marine environment protection initiatives like the Juntos Por Las Playas Del Norte, a project that was inspired by our efforts making the film. 

The impact of industry on a population and their natural habitat is key to Double Barrel. How did your experiences living in Japan at a time of enormous hardship influence the film?

The Japanese disaster in 2011 was devastating. After the earthquake, we were forced to evacuate for what started as one night but eventually turned into about three months of uncertain life on the road. Nothing could prepare you for living through something like that. The aftershocks were constant and powerful, the constant threat of tsunami was exhausting, not to mention the unknown consequences of the Fukushima fallout. As someone who surfed, swam or walked alongside the ocean daily, and with a one-year-old toddler and being pregnant at the time, the entire experience was life changing. When I first visited north Peru and saw the aging refineries and platforms so close to the shore, the thought of what could happen brought up so much pain inside of me. My experience in Japan made me feel there was an urgency to make this film. I couldn’t bare to see another place I love and the people who inhabit it become so devastated by the consequences of building industry right on the coast. Surviving an event like Fukushima stays with you forever, but it has to be taken as an opportunity to grow and evolve from the experience. 

What are your thoughts on ‘film’ as a force for change? How would you define the relationship between your artistic vision for Double Barrel and the message you had to impart? 

Until I went to Peru and had the idea to make Double Barrel, I had never desired to be a filmmaker. I loved storytelling through writing and producing. Taylor had done a short film for Charity Water in Ethiopia, and helped raise $1million for fresh water wells. I was blown away by how much documentary film could appeal to a global audience, and actually impact developing communities. I knew I had to have a script and storyboard, so that it had structure and context. I didn’t really know a thing about filmmaking, but I knew I wanted the film to be of the highest quality possible, and placed myself around geniuses in their fields that were also passionate about the project. Dustin Hollick was a surfing ambassador for Patagonia who had made surf films growing up in Tassie, including a film ‘El Gringo’ which had sequences from Peru, so I went to him with the script knowing I could trust him. I could not have made the film without him. Dustin recognized my emotion to the place and knew that had to be included in the film, resulting in a transparency that tells the story as it truly happened. Cinematographer Tim Wreyford had previously shot Mick Fanning’s ‘Missing’ film and we shot the first half of the film together. Then I returned with Alejandro Berger who is one of the world’s best water photographers (pictured, above; Davis, left, whith her key crew members). I wanted to combine the format of surf films with longer music-driven surf and travel montages that would give a real sense of the place. We learnt a lot of lessons the hard way, and threw in a lot of our own money to get this off the ground, but the response so far has been incredible. I am very proud of everyone for sticking with it.

A Switchboard Media production, Double Barrel has its Australian premiere in Byron Bay on February 27. Ticket and venue information available here.

THE POWER OF ONE: THE PHILLIP VIANNINI INTERVIEW

With his director Jonathan Taggart, producer Phillip Viannini spent two years documenting the off-grid existence of the sustainable communities in some of Canada’s most extreme wilderness. The result is Life Off Grid, a picturesque and profound insight into the commitment needed to live disconnected from the accepted fossil fuel-driven culture of western society. A Professor and Research Chair at Royal Roads University in Victoria, Canada, Viannini (pictured, below) spoke to SCREEN-SPACE about the vast range of personalities his lens captured, the harsh realities of off-grid living and what Australia can do to further the off-grid cause…

When did you first become aware of the Lasqueti Island ‘Off Grid’ movement, whose residents are central to Life Off Grid?

I visited an off-grid home for the first time in 2008 whilst researching small island lifestyles and I became fascinated by the idea of living in such a different home. Where I live, the Salish Sea archipelago, many islands are off-grid and even those on-grid make use of renewable energy and practice sustainable living. I was first exposed to the Lasqueti community by a student of mine who, incidentally, now lives in Australia. When Jon and I travelled to Lasqueti for the first time I had already visited a few homes on Vancouver Island.  

Via beautiful widescreen images, you capture some extreme locales at their most photogenic. How did you settle on the aesthetics of your film?

Jon and I discussed the aesthetics of the film throughout our travels. We operated on a very small budget and, like many off-gridders--we had to make virtue out of necessity and sought beauty in simplicity. Everything we needed had to be carried by us, on our backs and hands. To get places, we had to bike, canoe, kayak, skidoo, walk, or fly small bush planes. We often stayed at off-grid cabins that we rented for the duration of our travels. Recharging batteries at the end of the day wasn't always easy so we had to carry as little equipment as we needed to recharge. So what you see is the result of a ‘Spartan’ aesthetics: one that would be as mundane as the images and sounds we captured, and therefore one as unassuming and genuine. That's why we have no aerial scenes, no camera tricks, no flashy stuff. We just let our eyes and ears dwell on what was before us--whether that was a live tree or a piece of firewood--and let that come to life. 

How has off-grid living benefitted the Lasqueti community in a ‘human’ sense? How has this living improved their outlook on life?

Practicing an off-grid lifestyle teaches anyone that life isn't easy. It's not meant to be easy. The notion that easy living, extreme comfort, and constant convenience are somehow a modern right--a cornerstone of consumer society and culture--makes absolutely no sense when you live off-grid. Whatever you get, you have to work for. And that has an interesting effect: work's results are more pleasant, easier to enjoy. Anyone who grows their own food will tell you the same thing: vegetables and fruits taste better when you work hard to grow them yourself. Living off grid is not simple, at all, but it allows you to enjoy and cultivate the simple pleasures that your labour yields. 

Has experiencing such commitment to the cause changed your views on the sustainable, off-grid culture?

It has taught both Jon and I that everything has a cost. Before I began this project I would give no thought whatsoever to simple domestic acts such as using a toaster or a microwave. Now I know how many watts/hours those appliances draw. And I am aware of the sources of electricity that generate those watts. I can tell you the precise dams that feed my house. And I know what those dams do to the local ecology.

Some of your subjects are intellectuals, academic types, who have embraced sustainable living philosophies largely because they are financially able to do so. Is off-grid ever going to be an option for the layman?

I can only recall one academic we interviewed. The reality is that most of the 200 or so people we spoke with are carefully self-taught. They're DIY craftsmen and craftswomen who have taught themselves how to wire their house or collect water or build a compost toilet. Some of these people were financially stable. Others lived below the poverty line. Most were middle class. Off-grid living is an option for anyone who is willing to (learn), regardless of income. If you want 50 coastal acres in British Columbia and require a 4 KW/h system to answer your every domestic wish then you'll need a substantial amount of capital. (But) if you can live on a 10acre lot in the prairies and can get by with less than 1 KW/h, you can still live below the poverty line but have richer existence than most people who live on the grid.

Australia seems ideally suited to off-grid acceptance. What are the steps that government bodies and commercial interests can take to inspire action?

Having just visited Tasmania, I was impressed by the solar panels I saw everywhere. I know how much Australians have worked to make their water consumption sustainable. Like Canada, Australia has a densely concentrated population in a few regions and beyond that, there are massive rural and remote lands where the grid simply isn't an option. With the acceptance of a couple of provinces, Canada does little to encourage renewable energy generation, yet it still subsidizes and promotes fossil fuel harvesting. Australia could learn from Canada's bad example and invest more, much more than Canada can possibly do, in the biggest source of energy it has: the sun. Last time I checked on my travels, there was a lot of that.

Life Off Grid will be released in Australia via TUGG Distribution on simultaneous theatrical and VOD platforms on February 4.

HEAVEN AND EARTH: THE NICOLAS HUDAK INTERVIEW

Afforded unprecedented access to the Blackfeet reservation in Browning, Montana, director Nicolas Hudak (pictured, below) and his wife, producer Anna Hudak, set about capturing the modern experience of three young Native American people. As filming began, each was on the verge of their adult lives - Andi Running Wolf, an intelligent, independent woman about to leave the reservation for college life; Edward Tailfeathers, a philosophical backyard muso caught between a teenage mindset and his grown self; and, Douglas Fitzgerald, a softly spoken, family-oriented cowboy, working the earth of his ancestors.

The Hudak's moving account of these lives, Where God Likes to Be, examines a world of rarely-glimpsed bonds within the Native American community - between the Montana land and its people; the old traditions and new society; and, most tellingly, between youth and adulthood. Ahead of its Australian premiere at the 2015 Byron Bay Film Festival, Nicolas Hudak spoke to SCREEN-SPACE about his unique production experience...

What was so unique yet so universal about the experiences of the three young people that led to them becoming the focus of your documentary?

When we set out to make the film on the Blackfeet reservation we did not have a specific topic or narrative in mind. The Native American stereotype across the US is one of downtrodden impoverishment and hopelessness. We wanted to show another side of the Native American experience, one that explored the feeling of somehow being between two worlds, coming of age in modern America and clinging to a sense of unique indigenous culture. Spiritual leaders, teachers and people we met on the street encouraged us to make a film that is uplifting and inspires cultural pride in their youth. The three young people that allowed us to have their voices in the film struggle with many of the issues that are universal on the Blackfeet reservation - and at the same time really try to make the best of it and create opportunities for themselves.

Was the broader reservation population open to the intrusive-by-nature arrival of a documentary crew? How did you and the production team go about ingratiating yourself with the community?

Actually no, they were initially not open to having a documentary crew there. People there have been burned so often by white people coming on to the Rez, looking for the sad Indian story, focusing on alcoholism, substance abuse and general "poverty porn". I think a lot of Blackfeet people are just sick of it. In fact, shortly before we showed up a National Geo crew was thrown off the reservation. We learned that it was important to them that their voices were heard, rather than having another film that points fingers and has outsiders talk about them. We spent almost six months talking to people without touching our cameras. Once we started filming we tried to tread lightly and stay small, which wasn’t too hard since most of the time we were just a team of two. We lived in a trailer on the reservation for six months while filming which I think helped us blend into the scene and really get a feeling for the place. (Pictured, above right; Andi Running Wolf)

How did the experience of living and studying in New Zealand shape this film and the filmmaker you've become?

New Zealand showed me how a country with a colonial history can have a different relationship with its native people, identify on a national level with the indigenous population and even have that be part of its popular image. New Zealand also awakened in me a deeper sensitivity to landscape. Obviously, it is a very picturesque land but there is a melancholy there that I had not ever before experienced in a landscape. I began to read and interpret landscape differently there and I think I took a bit of that back to Montana with me when we started working on the film. (Pictured, above left; producer Anna Hudak)

Does the film tell the story or send the message that you set out to convey? How did the film take shape as the production progressed?

We initially thought we'd make more of an activist film but that is just not what we found there. Finding a strong storyline was definitely our main challenge in post-production. In the end, the film shaped us more than we shaped it. I am happy with the message it conveys and it has been very interesting to see people's reactions to it. Often after screening Where God Likes to Be, white people will come up to me and comment on how depressing they find the film (yet) right afterwards a Native American audience member will thank me for finally making an uplifting positive film about an American Indian reservation.

Although your film is not the advocacy/call-to-action type of documentary, what do you hope the narrative inspires in audiences?

I would like for Where God Likes to Be to evoke an understanding of how deep cultural roots are for a lot of Native people and how progress is not just about providing more of the kind of opportunities we think people on reservations need. I hope it leads to small actions on a grassroots level; to more respect and understanding for American Indian people, their reservations and their situation. (Pictured, right; Nicolas Hudak and crew member Anu Webster, on location)

Finally, how did the Blackfeet people and the residents of Browning react to the film?

The Blackfeet Nation and the residents of the reservation have been incredibly kind to us and the feedback we have been getting has been overwhelmingly positive. We are lucky.

WHERE GOD LIKES TO BE Teaser from counter production on Vimeo.

NO HODADS ALLOWED: THE BEST SURF FILMS OF 2015 BYRON BAY FILM FESTIVAL.

"One of the greatest things about the sport of surfing is that you need only three things:your body, a surfboard, and a wave.” - Naima Green, author.

For film buffs, the familiar cadence of the quote recalls the now iconic musing of French New Wave master Jean-Luc Godard, who said, “All you need for a movie is a gun and a girl." Both speak of the profound simplicity at the core of either activity; of the immense pleasure that can be derived from just paddling into the open sea or picking up a camera.  It suggests that artists, whether those that challenge the ocean or capture an image, share a unique bond. It is also why the five films competing for the Best Surf Film at the 2015 Byron Bay International Film Festival offer some of the event’s most beautiful images…

Learning to Float (Dir: Brendan Calder; USA, 20 mins)
At 280 pounds and living a life mired in the drug and gang culture of South Central LA, a carefree life riding the Californian beach breaks did not leap out as an option for 12 year-old Giovanni Douresseau (pictured, above). But a youth centre beach excursion introduced him to the life-giving properties of the sea, the generosity of a man that would guide his growth into adulthood and the spirituality of a life spent surfing. Brendan Calder’s thesis film has warmed festival hearts as far afield Hawaii, Costa Rica and Portugal, with Byron Bay crowds certain to succumb to its charms.

1970 Something (Dir: Rafael Mellin; Brazil, 70 mins)
With the might of a military dictatorship oppressing a once vibrant Brazilian society, a counter-culture subset opted out of life under the regime and established a movement that celebrated music, dance and, above all else, the metaphor for surfing as an expression of freedom. Rafael Mellin, who explored the bond between cinema and surfing in his Everaldo Pato biography, Nalu (2008), will be attending the Australian premiere of his vivid, retro-flavoured ode to the spiritual birthplace of Brazilian beach culture.

Tierra de Patagones (Land of Patagones; Dirs: Joaquin Azulay and Julian Azulay; Argentina, 75 mins; Official site)
Capturing the essence of ‘extreme sports’ fanaticism, brothers Julian and Joaquin Azulay trek to the freezing, hostile southern extremes on the Argentinian side of Patagonia to surf the monster swells at Isla de los Estados (Staten Island), in the Tierra del Fuego (Land of Fire) region. The journey becomes a constant struggle against one of nature’s most harsh landscapes while in the company of some of the planet’s most warm and welcoming people.

What the Sea Gives Me (Dir: Pierce Michael Cavanagh; USA, 63 mins; Official site)
Pierce Michael Cavanagh’s unashamedly celebratory film asks those whose lives are spent on or in the water to define their bond with the sea, its inhabitants and the increasingly lopsided role it plays in sharing the planet with mankind. Amputee surfer Andre Barbieri, activist Crystal Thornburg-Homcy, oceanographer Dr Walter Munk and ‘shark wrangler’ Brett McBride (pictured, right) are among those that share candid insight with Cavanagh’s incisive camera. One of the most enriching visions of man’s interaction with the ocean ever captured.

Oney Anwar – Chasing the Dream (Dir: Karen Donald; UK, 41 mins; Official site)
From a remote rainforest enclave deep within Indonesia, a singularly-focussed young man named Oney Anwar emerges to challenge for the surfing world championship in Karen Donald’s rousing, heartfelt human story. In addition to the majestic surf footage, Donald captures a fish-out-of-water tale that effortlessly changes gears from lump-in-the-throat tearjerker to heartwarming crowdpleaser. A star is born in the form of Oney, a driven, humble and wonderfully engaging screen presence.

WHATEVER...: THE CHARLIE LYNE INTERVIEW

Charlie Lyne, a culture blogger and film critic, has directed the stunning ‘clip-umentary’, Beyond Clueless, which deconstruucts and analyses the 90s/00s teen movie craze with incisive clarity. From 1995, when Amy Heckerling’s Clueless kickstarted a new wave of teen movies that lasted a decade, the genre tackled teenager life at the turn of the modern century, when uncertainty about the future was rife and the outsider angst of those teenage years seemed more universal than ever. From his London base, Lyne (pictured, below) spoke with SCREEN-SPACE about the films that both reflected and guided the teenage experience of the late 1990s and how they would inspire his feature directing debut….

Most great teen films from any period - Rebel Without a Cause, The Graduate, Carrie, The Breakfast Club - take on alienation, rebellion, coming-of-age, blossoming sexuality, etc. What point of difference do the films from the 90's-00s display?

Lyne: I agree with you that the thematic preoccupations of the teen genre have been relatively consistent over the years and decades, but I think the 90s/00s era offered a really diverse range of approaches to tackling those subjects. Whereas before, the teen genre had been defined by a few key players - James Dean, Molly Ringwald, and so on - now it was blown wide open, and those key concerns you mention were being expressed through the mediums of horror, comedy, drama and a thousand other modes of storytelling.

1994-2004 was a period of immense social change and uncertainty. The end of the millennium was nigh; the Net in particular and technolgy in general was expanding exponentially. How were teen films influenced by, and reflect the teenagers place in, this new world?

Lyne: I think one of the greatest assets a teen movie can have is insularity, so that whatever major social, political and technological movements are happening in the background are rendered relatively insignificant compared with the minor emotional problems of our teenage protagonist. So events like Columbine, 9/11 and the rise of the internet certainly left their mark on the genre, but in quite an oblique way — they were refracted through characters, rather than being portrayed directly.

You top-and-tail the film with two big hits - Clueless (pictured, above) and Mean Girls - but many of the films referenced did not register at box office. It could be argued that this was the period when teens, consumed with new personal devices and video game tech, starting turning away from cinema-going. Were these films undervalued by their target audience at the time?

Not at all. There was no major decline in teenage cinema attendance in the 1990s as compared with the 1980s; it's just that teenagers in the '90s had a far wider range of teen films to choose from, with relatively few 'big hitters' to soak up all the box office. So instead of something like The Breakfast Club becoming a behemoth, the same amount of money was spread between Swimfan, Down To You (pictured, left), The Rage: Carrie 2 and a bunch of other movies that made more modest sums at the box office.

The melding of montage and the music of Summer Camp is a highlight of the film. Tell me about that process; did the visuals or the music come first? At what point were the band members involved?

Lyne: We worked in tandem throughout the whole process, so sometimes I would take the lead on a montage, sending them a short reel of footage, and sometimes they would send me a demo and I'd start cutting to that. It created a kind of feedback loop, where we just kept playing off of each other's ideas until we reached something that felt right. And they were involved from the very beginning, so this process went on for nearly a year.

Recall for us securing The Craft's Fairuza Balk as narrator? How was the project pitched to her and what were her reactions?

Lyne: Fairuza (pictured, right) had always been my number one choice for the narrator — she has that perfect blend of 'outsider' and 'insider' encapsulated in her voice — but for various reasons we couldn't bring anyone on board until the film was nearly complete, so there was always a part of me that worried we wouldn't get her. Thank God she said yes once we eventually asked, otherwise I'd have had to reimagine my whole perception of the film.

What did you discover about yourself in revisiting the films that helped form the film lover you are today?

I still love the teen movies of my youth as much as I did ten years ago, only now I recognise all the lessons I unknowingly learned from them — some good, some less so. The whole process taught me just as much about myself as it taught me about the oeuvre of Devon Sawa.

Beyond Clueless will screen as a double feature with Andrew Fleming's The Craft as the Closing Night event at the Perth Underground Film Festival; read the SCREEN-SPACE review of Beyond Clueless here.