National Film Unit —from Miramar to Brussels

Press, 30 December 1976, Page 11

National Film Unit —from Miramar to Brussels

The first “prize" won p\ the National Film Unit came tn the shape of a at a foreign film festival six-inch statuette — a golden ladv with outs’retched aims, and wings. It was won tn 1956 at the Cleveland Film Festival for a film called “The Snows of Aorangi.” The latest award is a three-volume history of France won by the film unit at an October festival tn Brussels, for the film “Somebody Else’s Horizon.'’ The 20 years between hate been rewarded often — certificates, awards of merit, a nomination for an academy award. cups, plaques. They are housed behind glass tn the office of the unit’s manager, David Fowler They are important, he says The unit 'elects its foreign film festivals with care, staving with the more prestigious, notably those at Venice. Berlin, Cork, New York, San

Francisco. Milan, and Tehran. They are the kind

that do not guarantee a film will even be screened, let alone claim a prize. That the film is seen at all is in itself a recognition of merit.

To enter a film festival is relatively simple, but to produce a film that meets the regulations of a particular festival, and will withstand the scrutiny of judges and the competition of fellow filmmakers from ail over the world is an art learned with time. It involves a combination of acquired skills. For the National Film Unit the process begins at Miramar, where its studios. wrapped about with Wellington suburbia, have been since 1928. The films made there originate from three sources — the unit s own department, Tourist

and Publicity; other governm e n t departments, which pay to have films produced: and within the unit itself, films it calls “in-house" productions. "Somebody Else’s Horizon” was made for the Tourist and Publicity' Department’s 75th anniversary. celebrated this year. It did not start out as an

“award winning film” — the award part cannot be planned. Most of what else happens, is. The producer of “Somebody Else’s Horizon” was Tom Williamson, an Englishman who joined the film unit in August, 1975. The producer acts as a link between the sponsor who wants a film made and the film crew who will make it. He chooses the director, together they select a crew.

Fiim-making is very much * question of

“horses for courses,” says Tom Williamson. Different people make different films, some are better at certain kinds of films than others. He will put unlikely people together on a crew because he wants the differences between them on the screen. But he has to make sure the crew is compatible; people have to be swapped about within the unit, made available.

The unit has a yearly programme to complete. On an average there are .30 to 35 production projects at various stages on the books, and things and people have to fit in. The producer creates the conditions under which a film can be made; he settles problems, such as money; then he stands apart, the objective element, and critic. 1 be director, however,

is intensely involved. The job demands much. It is, says Tom Williamson, a strange commitment. It absorbs. Hugh Macdonald directed “Somebody Else’s Horizon,” but it would be another of his films, “This is New Zealand,” that would be remembered by most New Zealanders.

From the sponsor, in this case the Tourist and Publicity Department, the director learns the subject of the film, the audience it is to be aimed at, how long it. should be, where it will eventually be screened, the budget within which he must work. Knowing these things he can write the script or “treatment” -— a statement of what he intends to include in the film and how he proposes to treat it. The director is responsible for the indefinable part of film-making — th*

ideas and creations, the art involved. He selects a crew that, hopefully, can translate those ideas to an image on the screen. Hugh Macdonald had his crew in mind at the time he was writing the script for “Somebody Else’s Horizon.” He knew who he wanted for sound and camera, and knowledge of their particular abilities contributed to the way he thought about making the film. He chose MurrayCreed for his cameraman and Kit Rollings was put in control of sound.

The disagreements and hassles and changes that may' have occurred before the sponsor of the film finally agreed to a treatment are left behind when the film-makers move out of Miramar and into the business of making “magic.” There is no right or wrong way of making a

film, says Tom Williamson. Just so long as it works. After the film has been shot, and the actors have played their roles, the material is edited. Editing is a specialist skill in its own right: a good editor can sometimes transform indifferent material into a good film, a bad editor can reduce good material to tatters. At the film unit, the responsibility of editing, for now. often remains with the director.

The edited film is shown to the producer and at his suggestion the cuts might be revised, the parts that do not quite work will be polished up. When the “rough-cut” is eventually shown to the sponsor, it can be a shock, for rarely is that edited film exactly like the treatment agreed on some time before. Between times the

director’s ideas have changed, things happened or did not happen on location in a way not originally planned. This will probably mean more discussion, maybe revision, compromise. With time, the “fine-cut is produced, the 'inal print, the image defined. Now is when the last decision by the sponsor must be made — is the product being offered what was wanted? The film has been expensive, it will not be changed again. If accepted — and it almost always is — the final sound tracks are laid, the commentary recorded, loose ends tied. The film is ready for distribution. From beginning to end the process takes time — sometimes too much time — skill, from a variety of people with specialised crafts, and money. Too

often, says Tom Williamson, people who commission films seem to have a "box brownie” mentality and do not realise how expensive good film-making

is. The reward for all these things combine I varies. The film-makers set out to make as good a film as they can and their commitment is put upon on the screen for public scrutiny. It is a time for recognition that often simply passes by the National Film Unit.

To enter a film festival and, maybe, win an award, is a more definite way of finding out whether people do notice. Film-makers make films for an audience, for themselves, and for their fellow tech-

nicians. says Tom Wil liamson. Most of all, prob

ably, they want the recognition of their peers. In

this sense the awards matter But. as well, festival participation and awards can lead to world-wide sales of a New Zealand film, they can promote the organisation, the film unit, and the country By entering a film in a foreign festival a presence is maintained, an image promoted. In the last financial year the film unit took part in 17 international film festivals m 17 different countries. Recently, a marketing officer has been employed to broaden the commercial distribution of the units film.

At home, the filmmakers tend to shrug off awards, modestly, which may be a cover-up for deeper feelings of accomplishment. The film crews are out. intent on making other films, for that is their purpose. The award remains, a symbol of past and present efforts, a real and wdrldlv object presented, after all. for the best produced illusion.