It’s a very candid piece of work. What was the context and what were your motivations for telling this story?
Scientific research exploring the self-administration of morphine in animals in the 1970s proved that when rats were offered two water bottles – one filled with water and the other with heroin – the rats would repetitively drink from the drug-laced bottles until they all overdosed and died. Every single one. In a largely forgotten and overlooked experiment, Canadian psychologist Bruce K. Alexander hypothesized that this might be related to the setting and conditions they were kept in. In contrast to the small, solitary, metal cages of the previous experiment, he and his colleagues built ‘Rat Park’, a large housing colony 200 times the floor area of a standard laboratory cage. They were free to roam, play, and socialise, they had mental stimulation, the capacity to mate and bear offspring… And they were given the same access to drug laced water bottles. Not a single rat over-dosed. However, the human equivalent of ‘Rat Park’ can’t be built in a lab. Contrary to many preconceptions, recovery takes a lot of time, effort, and energy and that extends to loved ones too. There is no magic wand solution or quick fix. And no guarantees. But I truly believe you can’t do it on your own. I suppose my motivation for telling this story is the idea that the opposite of addiction is not just being clean and sober, but rather connection. Authentic and meaningful human connection. And even that isn’t always enough.
How smooth or bumpy was the shooting process? Was there anything you ended up leaving out or struggled to film?
There are so many films about the dark descent into addiction, but not so many that take us into the challenging, deeply personal, and unknown world of recovery. However, I underestimated how hard this film would be to make. There was a lot of debate about whether to include everything I shot – and whether it would be damaging to me or my partner to do so – but in the end I decided that it is what happened, so it should be part of the film. I did withhold some of the more graphic ‘cold turkey’ scenes. I wanted to document everything as honestly as possible, but the physical act of coming off the drug (the synthetic heroin substitute Subutex) did not feel like the point. Recovery can’t be reduced to ‘cold turkey’. In this way, the search for normality and stability becomes the main subject, whilst coming off Subutex is only the result. Seeing how much I have broken my partner’s trust was what I struggled with the most. Also seeing my lowest points reflected back at me made them even more painful somehow. I kept asking him if he was ok to carry on and he always said, if it can help someone else not go through what we have, then it would be worth it a million times over.
How have you found the reception whenever you’ve screened it? Did any reactions particularly stand out?
Heroin is still a taboo.On top of that, motherhood as a recovering addict is not only shrouded in stigma, but is also a medically, ethically, and psychologically complex terrain to navigate. The reception has been, generally speaking, immeasurably positive. I find that people are curious – they often have a lot of questions about it all.
What’s your background as a filmmaker?
Since finishing Clean I’ve enrolled in an MA in directing at the National Film and Television School, so I’m doing things a bit backwards. Prior to that I’d made campaign films for NGOs and charities as well as working in broadcast.
What sorts of stories are you keen to tell going forward? Would you also like to explore fiction?
I’m currently in the midst of making my first fiction film via the BFI sharp shorts scheme. I’m also very interested in the threshold between the real and the imagined – it’s a really interesting time for hybrid filmmaking.
What’s your favourite short?
Sergei Dvortsevoy’s In the Dark is one of my favourite shorts – for what it leaves out as much as what it includes. It’s about an old man and his cat – and there’s a Sisyphean tragedy to it all. It’s not overly expositional or overly concerned with ‘aboutness’ but rather it is a film that manages to say so much without relying on words to convey its meaning. I love Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s shorts, Peter Greenaway’s, Philip Hoffman’s, as well as avant-garde works like Peter Kubelka and Morgan Fisher that explore and play with all the permutations between image and sound, silence and absence.
What does the Festival mean to you?
It is the Cannes of short films, so it is of course an honour. I think even more so because it is such a personal film, and a topic that is so close to my heart. Therefore to have a platform like this is truly humbling.
Clean is being shown as part of the International Competition I2.
]]> How did you construct your narrative from the VR chats in The Phantom Touch? Did you approach users with the project already in mind?
The narrative was built along the way, as when I started I was not sure what the documentary was going to be about. I just knew I wanted to explore and feel the virtual reality world of VRChat. I told the users I was making a film of course, and as time went on conversations about the doubts of the future and lack of purpose were some that repeated frequently, and ones me and my team wanted to explore in depth. But the overall narrative and structure was created as we went along.
What does the bird appearance choice mean?
Choosing an avatar is an interesting thing, as you choose the form with which you present to the other users. I think that the melancholy and general vibes of the bird avatar resonated with me, but I can’t really say why. It just felt like a right fit for me. Also, having a “cute” avatar makes people be more open to talking with you, as they empathize more easily with seeing a funny looking character.
How much are you interested in virtual realities? Do you have further projects in VR?
Virtual realities, the metaverse and the internet are things that I’m very much interested to explore in my work. We live in a very digital reality, even if we don’t acknowledge it, and VR is just the next step of this. That may sound a bit radical for many people, but it’s an extension of what came before. I currently don’t have a project in VR, but I’m writing a TV show that has parts that happen in a virtual reality world, expanding on some ideas and themes that were featured in The Phantom Touch.
While working on The Phantom Touch, have you considered recording your everyday life and chatting with relatives in real life?
The idea did cross my mind, and could be an interesting one. One of the things I like more about The Phantom Touch is the intimacy that you get in every one of the conversations featured, and I do wonder if I could replicate that in real life. But the fact is that in the digital world you don’t carry a camera or a microphone, so there’s not the intimidating factor that always comes up when you put a camera in front of someone.
What’s your favourite short?
The Wrong Trousers, the second Wallace and Gromit short. It’s one very dear to me, and I was fascinated with it while growing up. It was very revelatory too, in the sense that I was introduced to a new form of animation and filmmaking as a child. I still watch it every now and then and I always appreciate the craftsmanship and work that was put into it.
What does the Festival mean to you?
It means a lot, and it’s very important for me as a director. This is my first film, and being able to showcase it outside of Chile, my home country, to such a large audience from all over the world is very exciting and I can’t wait to be there.
The Phantom Touch is being shown as part of the Lab Competition L5.
]]> What interested you in the relationship to extreme heat in Big Bang?
Big Bang is the second short film in a trilogy of “space” films (the first one being Sideral). In Big Bang, I maintain my focus on the ordinary lives of the marginalized. But like in Sideral, I find the power and strength in the character that will turn everything upside down. Chico is, symbolically, the universe’s particle that is just waiting for the spark to explode and spread.
How did your meeting with the actor Giovanni Venturini go?
Giovanni is a well-known Brazilian actor who has participated in various projects (movies, theatre, TV, etc). We met for the first time – that’s what he told me – at a party, while dancing (what a coincidence), during a concert of one of our friends. So, when I came up with the story for the first time, an image of him came to my mind too. I contacted him and presented the project to him. He accepted immediately, I was lucky!
How did you develop the process of framing?
As in all the other films that I have directed, the form never precedes the narrative. I find the starting point, the concept and, to complete it, the form. With Big Bang, it was the same, and the framing – the film’s imagery – came to me almost naturally, in this search to produce a singular point of view and to better highlight it in the film. For the reverse segregation, it is only a provocation, and at the same time, it is an invitation for us to notice, to look at the world in a different way.
Could there be a sequel to Big Bang?
At the moment I don’t think so. I am currently working on the third short of the trilogy, and I have developed my second feature film. In any case, it will always be there, and at any moment, I can think about it and pick it up again.
What’s your favorite short?
I don’t have one, in fact. As I said, I am looking for the concept’s own reference within itself.
What does the Festival mean to you?
Clermont-Ferrand is globally recognized as the Mecca of short films. So, it’s fantastic to have a film in its selection. For me, particularly, who is experiencing this for the fourth time, it’s absolutely astounding.
Big Bang is being shown as part of the National Competition F6.
]]> The film is a very moving account of a father’s struggle. What inspired you to tell his story?
This film is inspired by my own childhood when my dad was a journalist and he was imprisoned for two years.
How did you cast the film? And how did you work with the actors to re-create these subtle family dynamics?
In this film, the female character has to work and be active, I chose an actress who is also a very capable actor and famous in Iran, she is naturally full of energy, in contrast to the male character who had been in prison for a few years, he should have been less energetic with a hard face, I had seen this actor in the movie A Man of Integrity, directed by Mohammad Rasoulof, who was present at the Cannes Film Festival. To find a child actress, I auditioned a lot of child actors until I got to this little girl who had acted in TV commercial teaser. I really liked her face and she was very smart. I went to her house to play games, and between games, I would practice the movie sequences. Children should think that everything is really just a game. We had training sessions with male and female actors, but the child only practiced with the female actor and did not meet the male actor until shooting time, because I wanted them to be strangers to each other.
What’s your background as a filmmaker? What sorts of stories do you like telling?
I have two documentary films, one of which is called Finding Farideh that was the representative of Iranian cinema at the Oscars 2020. And I have four short fiction films and my previous film called The Visit was also in the Clermont festival and this will be my second time at this festival. I am interested in stories that are inspired by real society. Especially stories that are self-portraits.
What are your cinematic inspirations?
The Dardenne brothers and Abbas Kiarostami’s films.
What do you hope to work on next?
I have a short story script inspired by the recent events in Iran which is not unrelated to my previous works.
What’s your favourite short?
The first short films that attracted me were Krzysztof Kieślowski’s short films.
What does the Festival mean to you?
Generally in my opinion, the artistic community in the world has no borders and forms a big family and festivals are very useful for gathering these family members for cultural exchange. I hope to find good connections here to produce the next film.
48 Hours is being shown as part of the International Competition I5.
]]> Where and when does Paradiso, XXXI, 108 take place?
Paradiso, XXXI, 108 is taking place in Al-Naqab desert, in the south of Palestine.
From which material did you get the military pictures? Did you do editing?
The material is coming from films commissioned by the Israeli Army. They were didactic, educational propaganda films, where basically being in the army meant to look very entertaining and full of learning. The whole concept of the film is in the editing, which allowed me to subvert the material by changing the order of scenes and actions, by exasperating the iteration of mechanical activities through which these war games are questioned and seem senseless. But in some scenes the editing was kept as it is because it served the idea of the film. Also the narration in Hebrew was taken from the original material and, despite the fact that it is fictitious, it is a document that testifies to a certain state of mind.
What did you have in mind when making the soundtrack of the film?
First I was interested in the mechanical aspect of human beings, and, more specifically, of an apparatus of destruction, the army. The sound gives you the feeling of that and builds up the tension. Like the “Danse Macabre”, which is a music that already talks and reflects on human nature, as its title reveals. In a way this is what we see. While I used Haendel’s “Sarabande” for delivering a kind of melancholy for all that is going wrong with humanity, which always pays the price for being at war and creating systems that are enforcing destruction. Surely this film is showing a specific place and a specific case, but I think it is a reflection on humanity itself and on its failure. Then there are some parts in the film where we are using Suleiman Gamil’s music (“Pharaoh Funeral Process”, “Isis Looks for Osiris”) that in a certain way is the sound of this landscape. The sound of the flute is coming again and again, like the wind, it is almost what this landscape is telling: you cannot defeat me. This area of Palestine has been very affected both by using a large part of it as army bases for exercises and by creating settlements and, by doing so, changing the nature of the place. Where there is desert, in many places in the world, it has been used to exercise, to test bombs and finally destroy the landscape itself. In the material we never see the people: the enemy is always supposedly hiding behind the hills, or between ruins, but we never see it. Nevertheless the soldiers continue bombing and maneuvering and attacking again and again with their power forces. This whole thing that the enemy is not to be seen is also quite symbolic: it’s the way the Palestinians, are perceived in many aspects of their life, as non-existing and temporary. Yet the “state” is set to look for them, in a way the material testify for this ideology, they are there and not there. They are not being recognized as human beings and the army attempts at the same time to fight them, which is in itself very contradictory and prone to failure.
Is there a sequel to Paradiso, XXXI, 108? Do you have further projects dealing with this issue?
The film was born out of another project we are still editing called A Fidai Film, and in that sense what we see in Paradiso, XXXI, 108 is just one aspect of a work of sabotage that I do to archival materials. A Fidai Film deals with the looting of archives, of a culture, of an entire country, and which is still going on. The film is a visual treatment of all of this. Working with archives allows me to study images and find patterns. In A Fidai Film there are a couple of sequences where we see exercises of the army from different times, and where they attack ruins, empty of humans. There is something very strange about using old and ancient structures to exercise an occupation. Making it in some ways symbolic for the whole story of Palestine, and not only in modern times.
What’s your favourite short?
I would say Homage by Assassination by Elia Suleiman (1992). To me it is one of the best short films of all time. It is his first movie he made in New York.
What does the Festival mean to you?
I have always heard about this festival and I am very happy that my film was selected in your program. What I really love about the Clermont-Ferrand short film festival is the idea of having a place that focuses on and supports short films, which to me manage to deliver the most experimental ideas in cinema. This is both because of their length, which most of the time makes them the most difficult to produce and support, but also gives them the freedom to be independent.
Paradiso, XXXI, 108 is being shown as part of the Lab Competition L2.
]]> Where did the idea for this film come from?
This story is a cumulative memory of my experiences in attending funeral wakes. I realised funeral wake nowadays have little to do with the deceased. In Singapore, we often see family members and funeral wake guests chatting leisurely, discussing business, drinking alcohol, and even gambling rather than remembering the one who passed on. Some people even spend a vast sum of money on a lavish funeral wake, but I can’t help but wonder if it is truly for the deceased or because of saving one’s face for the living.
Can you tell us a bit more about the issues surrounding cremation? What’s the cultural context?
Singapore is always facing land scarcity, and this issue has led to cremations and columbaria replacing burial grounds to house the dead. Cremating a wrong body is a rare case, but it has happened before in different parts of the world. In a traditional Singapore Chinese funeral, the deceased family members will usually hold a funeral wake that last a few days for family and friends to pay their final respect to the deceased. It is often very rowdy, it feels like you are attending a carnival and cremation is just the last act of the carnival. People can be very judgemental when they are at a funeral. If you didn’t express your sadness or emotion strongly, others may criticise you for being heartless and insensitive. Therefore, most people behave in a certain way just to fit into the expectation and judgment of other people and the society.
What would you hope the audience takes away from the film?
This is a dark comedy film as it presents the absurdity of funeral practice and hypocrisy of humans in a light-hearted way. I hope the audience will laugh when they watch the film, but also ponder after watching when they pick out what resonates with them, and how realistic the narrative is grounded in. I also hope the audience will learn to decide or take action based on what their heart feels is right and not based on what the society or others perceive. There are many things in this world that matter more than money and social status. Live for yourself and your family as our time in this world is short.
What’s your background as a filmmaker?
I made my first film when I was studying Digital Media in Singapore Polytechnic. After completing my 2 years of mandatory military service, I decided to take further my studies in Beijing Film Academy, Department of Directing. After 4 years in China, I’m currently back in Singapore. I often joke that I’m probably quite useless if I can’t make films because I don’t have any other skill sets!
What are your cinematic inspirations?
Yasujiro Ozu, Ang Lee, Alejandro González Iñárritu. Their sensibilities and their ability to evoke emotions and feelings in their films that linger in my heart for a long, long time.
What’s your favourite short?
Oscar winning short film Skin (2018) by Guy Nattiv. The ending blew me away.
What does the Festival mean to you?
A dream came true! It has always been a mini dream of mine to have my film selected and screen in Clermont-Ferrand. I’m forever grateful and I can’t wait to be there!
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes is being shown as part of the International Competition I1.
]]> What prompted you to make a film about the issues raised by the messages left by Anathematic Anarchist? Do you plan to make other films addressing these issues?
My initial desire was to make a film about the solitude specific to digital capitalism through the example of dating apps. But when I found and read Anathematic’s suicide letter, which moved me a lot, I decided to introduce incels as a focal point. They embody for me a very dark human desolation, linked to the social atomization produced by the Internet and screens. I wanted to explore their emotions, which resonated with me in an unexpected way, because I too have often found myself terribly alone behind the screen of my mobile phone, obsessed with its illusion of connectivity and sociability. Young people – of my generation, Gen Y, but it is even worse for Gen Z – are spending less and less time with their friends, making love less, and are more depressed and anxious than ever. Personally, I am convinced that the cause of all these sad transformations is the same: digital platforms, and the virtualization and increasing automation of our existences. My second short film, HODL, deals with another very masculine virtual community, one which revolves around cryptocurrencies. In making La Mécanique des fluides, I also realized the contradictions and complexity of masculinity as a socio-cultural construction. In approaching these communities, I want to understand how they contribute to the production of a patriarchal masculinity that seems dangerous for both women and men.
How did you construct the narration, and organize the videos and virtual space excerpts?
The narrative was constructed organically as I found documents on the Internet, researched incels, dating apps, and the effects of algorithms on our subjectivity (especially Eva Illouz and bell hooks, but also Judith Duportail and many scientific articles on the manosphere). After a long process of theoretical research and field investigation, I wrote a voice-over that gave the film its first structure, but I rewrote and rearranged it based on the videos and material I gradually found on the Internet. The problem – and the advantages – of working with the Internet as an archive is that it is a process that is endlessly open to serendipity.
Do you organise any activities beyond simply showing the film, such as art exhibitions, public meetings, or online or social network debates?
The film has already been turned into a video installation for an exhibition at the Filmwinter Festival in Stuttgart, where we presented it next to a print of the complete Anathematic letter (which is not shown in its entirety in the film). There have been public meetings at festivals and other screenings, but I would really like there to be more presentations of the film in the activist feminist community, as I am very interested in what kind of debates the film might spark in those circles.
Have you considered turning La Mécanique des fluides into “spam”, proposing or integrating it into algorithms, etc.?
Given the subject matter, I was afraid of being harassed by masculinists if they discovered the film. I even considered not signing it with my own name at one point. However, it is very important to me, from a political standpoint, that the film be seen as much as possible, that the issues it addresses be discussed. Becoming viral in this sense would be comforting, as I believe the film addresses a growing misogyny that should be part of the public debate as a matter of urgency. But I still have doubts about the film’s public future. The possibility of eventually injecting it back into the same circulation circuit from which it is in a way derived, i.e. YouTube – and thus closing the loop – appeals to me as much as it scares me.
What’s your favourite short?
That’s a very difficult question… I greatly admire the theoretical and artistic production of Hito Steyerl. In France, Gabrielle Stemmer and Chloé Galibert-Laîné have made films that have inspired me a lot (Clean With Me (After Dark) and Forensickness, among others).
What does the Festival mean to you?
It is a wonderful opportunity for the short film to be seen, to engage with the audience and other filmmakers about it, to meet other artists and discover their films. The Lab program, in particular, seems amazing and it is a real honor to be part of it.
La Mécanique des fluides [The Mechanics of Fluids] is being shown as part of the Lab Competition L4.
]]> What did you want to explore through the relationship between Michel and Santos in the film?
Bellus follows Michel’s inner and spiritual journey. The film tells the story from the perspective of the young man. It is not a story of conversion, but of a winding path toward a form of redemption. Evangelical religion plays a very important role within the Gypsy community. Many former traffickers find meaning and balance through religion. Michel aspires to a better life and will fluctuate between a spiritual quest and the search for his “true self”. His relationship with Santos allowed me to underpin this journey but also to show that through their relationship and sometimes opposing lives, solidarity is the strength of this community.
Has your experience as a photographer helped you to be accepted by the community of Gypsies in the south of France?
In 2016, I wanted to photograph the pilgrimage to Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer with the intention of feeling the religious force that brings together preachers from all over Europe, and that gathers Gypsy, Rom, Tzigane, and Manouche populations. I met Tino there, a Gypsy boxer from the Bellus neighborhood, near Perpignan, who offered to introduce me to this place. Without hesitation, I accepted his invitation. Fascinated by the unique identity of this community and touched by the warmth of its reception, I quickly felt the desire to repeat the experience. During my many stays, I became familiar with the culture that cradles this neighborhood. I found in the violence of their wounded history and their uprooted daily life an echo of my family history. As is common in these migrant populations, we find women and men who cling to strong traditions, doubled by an attachment to religion. This gave birth in me the desire to build a story from this theme, to draw a faithful portrait of this community, away from the stereotypes often associated with Gypsies. My experience as a photographer allowed me to discover this community, but not to be accepted by it. Only persistence and time allowed me to be accepted.
One of the successes of the film lies in the presence of the actors on screen. How did you work with them? Did you have a spontaneous and informal approach to the script, or rather a very written one?
The documentary aspect of this story is completely assumed: the sets are real and are an integral part of Michel and his community’s daily life, in order to capture an atmosphere that is unique to them. The actors are mostly family members of Michel Pubill. I wanted to involve the residents of the Bellus neighborhood so that they could interpret their own role as much as possible, such as Grandma Carmen, for example, who is actually Michel’s grandmother. The material of the script served as a basis from which they expressed themselves freely with their own expressions and dialects in order to paint a faithful portrait of this community. The dialogues for the different commissions we presented were heavily written, but there was a lot of spontaneity as well.
What’s your favorite short?
A film reference for my director of photography Hovig Hagopian and myself is A Ciambra by Jonas Carpignano. He shot a film in a Romani community in southern Italy with non-professional actors, starting with a short film before making this first feature film.
What does the Festival mean to you?
With my producers, we have been targeting the Clermont-Ferrand festival from the beginning, which represents for us a real stepping stone in the career of this film, and we are extremely proud to be selected.
Bellus is being shown as part of the National Competition F9.
]]> Can you tell us about Daphne, the main character, and what led you to write her story?
Daphne is a single mum. She has hardly any communication with her socially awkward son, who has been consumed by technology, and she is struggling with that. She works from home due to the pandemic restrictive measures, so she has no other human interaction. She is lonely and due to the curfew and the lockdown she cannot go out to meet people. So she signs up on a dating app. My own need for artistic expression after being locked inside the house for so long as well as my desire for human contact, love and affection during the lockdowns, prompted me to write this story, while simultaneously aiming to portray the survival instinct of human nature.
The film is set during lockdown. Why was it important to put your character in this particular context?
Daphne’s desperate desire for love and affection is what the film is all about. It was important that my character was positioned in the context of the pandemic and the lockdowns as her desire became more intense during this period, and consequently loneliness kicked in. And loneliness is what really made her so desperate for human contact.
What were the challenges you have encountered while making Daphne?
As Daphne was shot with a minimum budget (10K), because we had no state funding in place, it was a challenge. I had written the film during lockdown and wanted to make it as soon as possible, as I felt desperate myself to be creative. I have many colleagues and friends in the industry who were willing to help me bring this project to life. It took me a few months, but I finally managed to put a team together and we shot the film in three days after the third lockdown. Budget restrictions are always a problem, but with the help of this incredible team we managed to make the film.
Daphne is a raw and realistic portrait of how people seek for affection in the modern age. Why is it important for you to explore this in a film?
Affection is something that we are missing nowadays. We are so preoccupied with work and material things that we keep forgetting how to communicate with people and show our true feelings. It was important for me in the film to expose the strong need for affection which goes beyond the bodily connection. I wanted to underline people’s unfulfilled emotional needs in the modern age and the testing of human limits; how during moments where people are tested emotionally and physically, unprecedented behaviours might be manifested in an uncontrolled and surprising manner.
What’s your favourite short film?
Wasp by Andrea Arnold is one of my favourite shorts. It is a beautifully crafted film, in all aspects, about a struggling single mother who is determined not to let her four young children be an obstacle in the pursuit of dating with an old acquaintance. It is the kind of cinema that I love.
What does the Festival mean to you?
Clermont-Ferrand Short Film Festival is the biggest and most important film festival dedicated to short films. It represents success and recognition for any filmmaker to have their film selected by the festival out of 8K plus submissions. We are honoured!
Daphne is being shown as part of the International Competition I5.
]]> How much are you interested in urbanization? Do you have further projects on this topic?
I studied architecture in Dhaka, maybe that’s why I’m interested in urbanism and urbanization. I used to think Dhaka would become a well-designed city and it’s possible. Surely, it was a utopia. But utopia is important for the future. I saw rapid urbanization in Dhaka and now it’s the most densely inhabited city in the world. Sometimes I wonder how to make a film about a place that I hate living in. So, my interest in urbanization is a bit scattered. I’m working on another feature-length documentary project titled Making Places, related to this topic – urbanization. Also, I’m developing a fiction project about a young student in the background of urbanization in Dhaka.
Why do you think your protagonists leave rural areas if they have so much nostalgia for it?
My protagonists leave rural areas in search of work. I guess it’s common all over the world. Also, our rural areas are still underdeveloped in terms of civic infrastructure. Our villages are extremely green compared to our ugly unplanned cities. So, in the mind of the citizens, a city is something which is bad and ugly. It’s a temporary place and eventually citizens will go back to their villages. This is the fantasy my protagonists have. I think it’s because we don’t know what a city is or can be. We only observed rapid urbanization. We don’t have a good example of urbanism here that we can follow. Or maybe we just can’t design our rapidly urbanized cities from scratch. My father has this severe nostalgia for his village too. He started farming there after his retirement. At the same time, he can’t stay in his village for more than two weeks. In his passport his permanent address is his village house not the apartment where he lives in Dhaka.
Do you live in Dhaka yourself? Are there places you enjoy in the city?
I live in Dhaka. I hate to say Dhaka has very little public spaces. I like areas in Dhaka where I can enjoy some sort of public space. Places where I can sit without paying anyone. Again, we don’t understand the concept of public space here in the city. Everything is private or gated here – even the public parks.
Do you think concrete could be domesticated? And do you think nature is actually domesticated?
Building a house is essential for our existence in this world. We need a sense of enclosure where we can live. Animals make their shelter in nature too. Maybe we need to find a balance between the wild and domestic.
What’s your favourite short?
I watched a lot of shorts at my film institute in India. Those are mostly narrative shorts. Once my teacher showed a short documentary called Before My Eyes by Mani Kaul. It was commissioned by the tourism board of Kashmir in India. But the film was nothing like a tourism film. Somehow, I vividly remember this short now. It was like a meditative landscape documentary. A mosaic of static, floating shots over the majestic landscape of Kashmir and sounds from the valley. He used such amazing off-screen sound elements that opened up a different world while watching the landscape of Kashmir. And we hardly see any people in the film.
What does the Festival mean to you?
Though I never visited the Festival, I know it’s a short film festival with great programming and a serious audience. Also, I’m eager to explore the short film industry activities and the Market.
Fantasy in a Concrete Jungle is being shown as part of the Lab Competition L4.
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