| A retrospective of Jos Stelling's films is ending The title of Stelling's last feature film, No Trains, No Planes (1999), was suggested, oddly enough, by Hemingway. Once, responding to a request from a less experienced colleague for help with the title of a new book, Hemingway asked: “Are there going to be drums in the book? No? And the fanfare? No too? Wonderful! So call it “No drums, no fanfare.” There are indeed no trains, no planes, no drums, no fanfare in Stelling's film, but there are precious details of everyday existence and the extraordinary visual humor that has always been the trademark of this Dutch director. Stelling has been known in Russia for a long time: his first films were shown at Moscow film festivals back in Soviet times. In addition to “No Trains, No Planes,” the program of the current retrospective at the Cinema Center on Krasnaya Presnya includes both Stelling’s films that have already become classics (“The Illusionist,” “The Switchman,” “The Flying Dutchman”) and his latest experiments with short films ( "Waiting room", "Gas station"). On the occasion of the retrospective, the director came to Moscow, settled in the Ukraine Hotel in the very room from which CNN once filmed the shooting at the White House, and every day after the next film he humbly signs autographs for fans. Today this will happen for the last time. Before leaving for his homeland, Jos STELLING gave an interview to Alexey MEDVEDEV.
— Over the past week, you have become a real idol for Moscow film lovers. What does this audience reaction mean to you?
- The film itself is only half the battle. What each viewer brings with him also becomes an integral part of the picture. The end result may be something that the director could only dream of. Although sometimes the reaction of the audience confuses me. Yesterday I was in the grip of very strange feelings. After the screening of my film “No Trains, No Planes,” I was signing autographs, and suddenly a girl’s voice was heard: “Tell me that he didn’t die” (we are talking about the main character of the film, who commits suicide in the finale. - A.M. . ). I turned around and saw that she was crying. I felt uneasy - I didn’t need such limitless power over other people’s emotions.
— In the finale of “No Trains, No Planes,” everything is clear - the hero dies, so there is nothing to reassure the girl. But in general, you seem to like ambiguous endings. Let’s say, when the hero of “The Switchman” freezes on his bed of moss, it seems that he did not die, but simply fell into winter hibernation, and in the spring he will awaken.
-- More than anything, I love it when a film has a bad ending that evokes good feelings. If a movie has a happy ending, I feel cheated. In the end, life also ends badly. As for “The Switchman,” the main character can be likened to an insect. In winter all the insects die, but in the spring, God knows where, myriads of new ones appear. So the final scene is not about the fate of an individual, but about the continuous circle of life and death.
— There are sparkles of incomparable humor in your films, but on the whole almost all of them seem deeply pessimistic.
- Like life itself. At the age of 30-40, when the best years of life are already behind us, each of us is faced with the thought of inevitable death. And then we look for a way out - some unexpected trump card that will help us cope with this. It could be religion, cinema, work 24 hours a day. Most people in the West work continuously only because they are afraid to think. For me, life is a continuous farewell, which can only be described with humor. Humor is one of our trump cards, but it is also a wall with which we can protect ourselves from the world. In addition, it is a serious factor in commercial success, like sex or violence. Humor opens hearts: if I can make you laugh, I can do whatever my heart desires with you. And if I then say something terrible, it will be truly terrible.
— Over the past two years, you have shot two short films for the anthology “Erotic Stories.” They are so witty, so close to the genre of pure comedy, that I want to ask: are you going to make an ordinary comedy that would have mass success?
-- Never. I couldn't. The thing is, my humor needs drama. Once you create a dramatic situation, comic nuances appear out of thin air - you just need to look at the hero from the outside. But humor for humor's sake is absurdity. Then you end up with one of those stupid German comedies where they give people long noses.
-- Tell us about your next project. They say he has ties to Russia?
— Yes, although the real story on which the “Dushka” script is based has nothing to do with Russia. It was told to me by my friend Otto, an Austrian journalist. There are many refugee camps around Vienna dating back to the Cold War. These days they were used to house people fleeing the Balkan war. One of the inhabitants of such a camp called Otto and said: “I am Dusko. We met several times." Otto had no idea about any Dusko, but still invited him to a home-cooked dinner. Dusko stayed for a year. In the end, Otto bought two tickets - one return and the other only to Sarajevo - and took him home to prove that the war was already over and he could return home. That's where I met Otto. He told me how he got here and said that Dusko had stolen his return ticket and had already returned to Vienna, but he was left in Sarajevo without money and in complete despair. I immediately said, “We have to make a movie out of this, I want to know all the details.”
- So what does Russia have to do with it?
- I have a Russian friend, an amateur actor, he is an exact copy of Dushko. So I decided to invite him to play in my film and change Serbia to Russia. I met him at a festival in St. Petersburg. He asked me for an invitation to a banquet at some nightclub for new Russians and reassured me that since I was a guest of the festival, they would let me in anyway. When I came to the nightclub, of course, they didn’t let me in. Only after half an hour of negotiations between the security and the organizers did I manage to get inside. My Russian friend was already there: he stood at the luxuriously laid table and had already collected a whole collection of all kinds of treats. But he couldn’t stop and continued to place some sandwiches on the edge of the plate. I took a closer look: from the other edge of the plate, a treat that did not fit fell into the glass of wine of the woman standing next to me. That's how I found my hero.
— The heroes of your latest feature film, “No Trains, No Planes,” are brothers. One of them is a celebrity, the other is a loser languishing in obscurity. You give the impression of a successful person - a respectable European director with a sense of humor, quite confident in himself. Which brother is closer to you?
“I am with my little brother with all my heart.” Fame doesn't interest me, really. I spend my best hours at home - alone or with my closest people.
- How can you engage in filmmaking with such views on life - communicate with hundreds of people, go to festivals, give interviews?
- Very difficult. Honestly, I've had enough. Now I'm returning home and want to have a good rest. Otherwise, it will turn out that I am only explaining what I am doing, without doing absolutely anything. Interviewed by Alexey MEDVEDEV |
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