Archive for The Scotsman

The Edinburgh Dialogues #5: Shane Danielsen

Posted in FILM, Politics with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 9, 2011 by dcairns

A few of my more sharp-eyed readers may notice that this is not, in fact, Shane Danielsen. Claudia Cardinale in Valerio Zurlini’s GIRL WITH A SUITCASE. Shane suggested, wrongly I feel, that this would make a more attractive start to the article than a portrait of him.

 

THIS PIECE IS COPYRIGHT BY THE AUTHORS.

Shane Danielsen was Artistic Director of Edinburgh International Film Festival from 2002-6, having first attended in 2000 as curator of the Max Ophuls retrospective. During his time, Edinburgh saw some memorable events and screenings, and retrospectives particularly to my taste: Mitchell Leisen and Henri-Georges Clouzot, as well as Valerio Zurlini whom I hadn’t even heard of. He conducted memorable onstage interviews with Liv Ullman, Steven Soderbergh, Charlize Theron and George Romero. And the new films at Edinburgh were a choice bunch.

Shane arrived with a reputation for passion and even violence, but the only incident I heard of in that line was the delivery of a strongly-phrased three-word sentence  to former Tory cabinet minister Michael Portillo, which struck me as entirely appropriate in the circumstances.

The following conversation was conducted by email, and Shane is his usual out-spoken self. I don’t always agree with Shane but I always find him entertaining, even as I wince on behalf of those who become his targets (including, below, film bloggers and those who read them).

John Huston said this, of Edinburgh — in 1972.

DC: I’m starting off by asking people about their favourite memories of the Festival.

SD: Okay, here’s the thing: I’m not that interested in talking about my time there – mostly, because I don’t think it’s especially helpful to where we are now. Nostalgia for some perceived golden age – be it Jim Hickey’s time, or Murray Grigor’s, or Lizzie’s – is honestly the last thing Edinburgh needs at present, given the state the festival is in and the severity of the choices confronting it.

But there’s also another reason, which is why I said I was hesitant, initially, to do this interview. And that’s that Edinburgh is – as my friend Derek Elley often noted – a festival haunted to an unusual degree by the ghosts of directors past. All rattling their chains and moaning to anyone who’ll listen that, were they still in charge, they would have done it all sooooo differently . . . It’s tedious, and redundant – and also kind of dishonest, because it fails to acknowledge that time has passed since then, the film industry has changed (quite profoundly, in fact), and as a result, so has the place that festivals like EIFF occupy within it.

So when I left Edinburgh, I vowed that I wouldn’t speak of my time there publicly again. I wouldn’t comment on subsequent festivals; I wouldn’t turn up and hang around like some grandee – which always struck me, frankly, as the height of bad taste. Hannah deserved rather better, I thought, than yet another Banquo at her feast. Her first year, I didn’t even look at the programme. I was in Berlin, reading and writing and, I suppose, just enjoying being in a city that excited me again.

Hannah McGill.

DC: I’ll just say, in defense of everyone who’s talked to me so far, they were all very anxious NOT to be seen as sniping from the sidelines or harking back to a bygone age.

SD: They might not choose to here, in this forum and at this time, but that’s not to say it isn’t a recurring, and regrettable, tendency. I remember all too well, when I took the (to-my-mind eminently justifiable) decision not to programme Richard Jobson’s “A Woman In Winter,” the carping from certain ex-directors – never to my face, of course – about how I was letting down the side and not supporting Scottish filmmaking . . . Which of course brings into play all kind of issues about nationalism and funding and special pleading, too complicated and tedious to get into here.

I endured this, mostly, with polite forbearance. When, really, what I wanted to say was, Mind your own business. You had your time; you made your choices. Now kindly do me the courtesy of fucking off and letting me make mine. I didn’t agree with all of Hannah’s decisions – how could I? we’re different people, with different tastes – but I did think that a lot of what she did constituted an ingenious solution to certain problems, as well as a necessary response to certain external pressures – which we can, and should, discuss later. But whether I happened to agree or not didn’t actually matter. Because it wasn’t my show anymore, it was hers, and I should – and did – accord her the respect of not throwing in my unasked two cents’ worth.

[DC: I haven’t seen A WOMAN IN WINTER. I have seen Jobson’s previous film, THE PURIFIERS, an unofficial remake of THE WARRIORS. Starring martial artists. Shot in Milton Keynes. So I can imagine the decision not to screen his movie in an International Film Festival being justified, despite it’s being Scottish product: there does have to be a quality threshold. But as I say, I haven’t seen the film in question.]

But I mention this mostly, I suppose, because Edinburgh has always been prey to an especially virulent strain of nostalgia – part of which, admittedly, it brings upon itself, with its endless looking-back: “The oldest continually running film festival in the world,” “John Huston said he gave a damn …” blah blah blah. I remember trying in vain to move the debate on from this – now, I think, the festival has no choice. Because in the radically accelerated environment of the digital world we inhabit – a world in which artistic scarcity is a thing of the past, and not only historical context but the very notion of programming are increasingly imperiled (since works from all times and places are almost instantly accessible, to be consumed on-demand and in ways that exclude traditional cinema or festival environments) – that kind of anecdotal history means less and less.

I’d also argue that 2011 marks such a rupture in the history of the festival, that the chain of continuity has been broken anyway. And so, après le deluge, it’s probably time to speak out.

DC: A big topic of discussion has been the date change from August to June.

I don’t want to go on about dates except to note two things:

Firstly, let’s acknowledge, shall we, that there is no ideal time of the year to hold a film festival. None. There might have been in 1963, or even 1993. But today? No. Not with four thousand bloody festivals out there.

Secondly, and more importantly, how come no one is placing some of the blame for the ‘disaster’ that was the shift to June – if indeed it was such a disaster – where it belongs? Which is not with Hannah, or Ginnie, but with the UK Film Council, and specifically Pete Buckingham. Who basically strong-armed EIFF into accepting a date-change (from August to June) and becoming a particular thing (a “festival of discovery” a la Sundance, leaving the “festival of spangles and riches” for London). Otherwise, no cash from the UKFC, thank you very much.

And then, when it isn’t an unqualified success, he’s screaming at Hannah for “not getting it right” (er, getting what right, Pete? you mean that vague, half-assed plan you were told from the outset wouldn’t work?), while cheerfully disavowing any hint of responsibility to everyone else who asked. Now, of course, he’s walked away from the burnt carcass of the Film Council and slid across to the BFI, sound as a pound. You couldn’t make it up.

I have a reputation for being somewhat . . . outspoken, I know. But can you be surprised, when this kind of shit goes on, and nobody calls anyone out on it? I can only conclude it’s a British thing, where you’d prefer to grumble about things, to chafe under the yoke, rather than actually stand up for yourself. But I’m afraid I’m not like that. I’ve got more pride; my father raised me better than that. And if no one else is going to say it (and clearly they’re not), then I will: the UK Film Council fucked the Edinburgh Film Festival.

DC: The strangest thing about this year’s festival was the decision not to appoint a director, then to use consultants, then to have a director after all, but not an “artistic director.” By the end, I think James was being called artistic director, but he was executing bits of a programme of ideas put together by other hands, plus a few ideas of his own.

So, what does the title artistic director mean to you, and what do you see as the consequences of stepping away from that approach and putting power in the hands of a CEO? Or, to be blunt and very specific, should Gavin Miller be in the position he’s in? Should James Mullighan have been placed in the position/s he was in?

SD: Well, James was definitely placed in a position. No doubt about that.

It’s funny: I made a point of meeting him in February, when he came to Berlin for the Film Festival. It was a brief visit, a quick in-and-out; I had to work to pin him down. A more suspicious soul might have sensed a certain reluctance on his part – though he was friendly enough when we did talk. (And, for the record, I thought he acquitted himself well in your interview.)

By now the awful, faux-naif conceptualism of Mark Cousins’ plan was starting to filter out. The underpants. The anthem. The statues. A ‘pay what you think the film is worth’ day – an idea so stupendously idiotic that I found it hard to believe that it issued from someone who’d actually run the festival before, much less knew anything about how the film industry works.

DC: Why?

SD: Well, imagine emailing or telephoning a sales agent, the people who, in most cases, give you the films you show – say, Wild Bunch, the most haughty and disdainful of the European titans – and, when they ask for a screening fee, or a minimum guarantee, explaining that the actual market value of their product – which they’re licencing to you, more for your benefit than their own – will be determined by the audience. A Scottish audience.

(Of course, this is all pure conjecture, since Wild Bunch wouldn’t take a call from Edinburgh any more, such was the reputation of the festival after the protracted, bungled search for a new AD – an instance of mismanagement that had not gone unnoticed within the international industry. Nor would most of the other major sales companies. The festival was perceived to be dying, or dead. As one sales agent remarked to me, in March, ‘One less we have to worry about.’)

Mr. Cousins, I’m glad to say, was paid precisely what his ideas were worth – which is to say, nothing. Indeed, he made a point of saying so himself, in his Teflon-like slide away from actual work (beyond that airy ‘sending of a few emails’) or accountability. A slide which I’d predicted to Mr Mullighan during our conversation in the early evening of February 16, in the lobby bar of the Hyatt Hotel, Potsdamer Platz.

I suggested to Mullighan then that he’d been hired as a quisling, as a fall-guy for what promised to be a potentially reputation-tarnishing disaster, and that my only advice to him would be to get a good lawyer to go over his contract, as he would almost certainly be out of a job the minute this year’s edition was over. And so, four months later, it proved. That he now claims to have only ever been hired for one year surprises me, when I recall our discussion, but perhaps he was simply being discreet.

Tilda Swinton and Mark Cousins.

[DC: Unfortunately, I haven’t seen the actual All That Heaven Allows blueprint: Mark Cousins didn't feel able to supply a copy for publication. But the press, and PopBitch, did carry the story about the Festival Underpants, and it was apparently presented to the staff at EIFF.]

Should Gavin Miller remain in his position? No. And I don’t feel especially bad about saying so, since I said as much to his face, when I met him – again, by careful contrivance – at Cannes. (My wife was amused to note that, when I walked up and introduced myself, his proffered hand began to tremble slightly; I felt for a moment like Lord Voldemort.) We had what might be called a full and frank exchange of views, in the course of which I suggested, politely, that he resign. Not altogether surprisingly, he disagreed.

The CEO doesn’t have to be a cinephile (though the AD definitely does, and it’s to Mullighan’s discredit, I think, that he’s not). In fact, it’s better that they’re not a film nerd; they’re about realising, in a practical sense, the vision of the AD, and reining in their wilder excesses. The two jobs are very different, and require very different and even opposite skill-sets. But it should, at the very least, be someone who knows about the film industry: how it operates, where it’s at, and how Edinburgh might work within it. Same goes for the Board: to have a Board comprised of people who know next to nothing about either the festival or the industry – as was the case in 2010-11 – is a recipe for disaster. But the failure here is an institutional one, of extraordinary proportions, and it goes from the Board right down through management to the staff. Who are good, hard-working people, trying to do the best job they can despite the idiocy of those above them. (In this respect, at least, it probably hasn’t changed all too much from my time there.)

And while we’re apportioning blame, the last thing I’ll say about Cousins’ ‘Ziggy Stardust moment’ for EIFF is this: Mark always enjoys telling us how much he loves film. That his is a purer, better, nobler love than any of ours’. It’s a very canny strategy, this fey innocence, since it has the effect of making even the mildest criticism appear to be motivated by black-hearted cynicism. (Obviously you don’t love cinema enough! You’re disconnected from your sense of wonder/child within/spirit-totem!)

But for someone who’s constantly banging on about the magic of movies, he certainly doesn’t seem to care much about screening them with any integrity. He talked this year about wanting to get away from using ‘traditional venues’ (cinemas are so square, daddy-o!) – but screening a DVD on a sheet in an attic is not, I think, the most creditable way to watch a movie. It devalues the work, and it disfavours the audience. One of his mooted ideas – that a film would begin at one venue and then stop, halfway through, and you’d have to walk to another venue to see the rest of it (ah, but along the way, you’d talk about Cinema!) – says all that needs be said, I think, about his fondness for gimmicks, and his blithe disregard for the level of care a filmmaker should reasonably expect from a festival that has invited his work.

I mention this because he’s managed, with characteristic adroitness, to escape most of the blame that should, I think, be laid as much at his feet as at Gavin Miller’s. Had he not been so shifty when trying to exculpate himself from the mess he’d helped create – first spitting his dummy in the dirt when the staff rejected his plans as bullshit, then ducking out as soon as it looked like the festival would be a flop, I wouldn’t lay into him like this. But he did, and I am. I CALL SHENANIGANS!

As for the AD, I was asked recently what that job requires. This is what I wrote: ‘The obvious things required are also the obvious things that were noticeably lacking here. Someone with a broad and detailed knowledge of international cinema, both historically and in the present, and strong curatorial and presentation skills. Someone who understands the business – specifically, the complex network of inter-relationships between UK and international producers, sales agents, distributors and festivals, and where EIFF can and should exist in relation to each of these. Someone with ideas that are credible, and not bullshit. Someone who can inspire both a severely demoralised staff and a signally disinterested pool of funders, both public and corporate, to work toward the rehabilitation of what has become, in less than twelve months, a badly devalued brand.’

The CEO of the CMI: Gavin Miller.

DC: The abortive search for an artistic director last year was a strange sight, certainly as viewed from the outside, and there was widespread doubt about whether the Festival was even going to go ahead. How could it have been so hard to find someone suitable? Do you know anything about how all that went down?

SD: I had a number of people I know – and also one or two I didn’t – contact me to ask whether I thought they should apply for the job. I looked at the advertisement and told them I thought it would be a bad idea. For one thing, there was no actual mention of programming, and everyone who spoke to me was more or less the same kind of person: an enthusiast, rather than a careerist, someone in love with the idea of just selecting beautiful movies and splendid retrospectives. Which is a lot of what the AD job is, but by no means all of it, alas.

But then, what had I expected? People I know kept forwarding me newspaper stories about Gavin Miller (for most of the past twelve months, all I had to do to keep appraised of doings at Edinburgh was look at my In Box), and I noticed, in the course of this reading, that he barely used the word ‘film’, much less ‘cinema’ in his interviews. But boy oh boy, was he down with generating multiple revenue opportunities via a diverse array of digital content and cross-platform branding!

This is the new breed: the marketers have stormed the citadel. But this, too, was to be expected, since festivals are no longer allowed to be the things they once were: small, local events of curatorial integrity, put on by passionate enthusiasts. And this clash of expectations is something I’m going to return to in a moment.

Plus, there was the financial situation, with the Film Council money (and the Film Council itself) winding down, the shift to a BFI that’s long disadvantaged EIFF in favour of London, a new Tory government determined to slash and burn, and the vastly diminished sponsorship opportunities of a post-recession economy. I’m not saying for one moment that a new approach to delivering the festival wasn’t needed; without question, it was. But there were ways to do that – and just as importantly, to sell it – without having to go the Dreamy Outsiders, ‘pay with a current bun and sit on a cloud’ route. Ways that might have retained some fundamental goodwill and belief in the event from outside stakeholders, instead of disbelief and derision.

Anyway, I heard about most of who applied, and who they spoke to. So thoroughly fucked-up was the process that one candidate – the head programmer for a reasonably high-profile US festival – didn’t even score an interview. Now, I’m not much of a fan of the guy personally, nor am I terribly convinced by his sterling good taste. But you’d think he’d be someone you’d at least want to talk to. . .

DC: Obviously a lot of very vocal people in Scotland, including myself, have a kind of proprietary feeling about the EIFF which might make things hard for anybody wanting to impose changes. But nobody wants it to be a purely local event, and it’d probably die if that’s what it became, so those voices and audiences aren’t all that counts. The big question, I suppose, has to be “Who and what is the EIFF for?” or even “Who/what is any 21st century film festival for?” Who does it have to satisfy and what does it have to do to achieve that? 

SD: A friend there sent me a link, a few weeks ago, to aBBC radio report on the festival, and while I agreed with most of the complaints the (Scottish) journalist raised about this year’s event, her bleating about how ‘Edinburgh should be more like Cannes’ just betrayed, to me, a stunning, provincial ignorance about what this festival is, what Cannes is, and where each sits in the broader scheme of things.

This endless carping: Why isn’t Edinburgh more like Cannes? Well, there’s a very easy answer to this question: Cannes has an annual budget of over 20m Euros. EIFF, by comparison, runs on the spare change found at the back of the sofa. Considerably more money might mean a slightly more Cannes-like experience, provided that one’s index for this happens to be a ‘red-carpet’ (i.e., stars and premieres) style event. Slightly, but not completely. You’ll never get the same level of world premieres as Cannes. You’ll occasionally get A-list stars – but not all the time.

But Cannes is also on the Côte d’Azur– a highly desirable destination. It has, in addition to its festival, the largest film market in the world. It happens at precisely the right time of year to begin positioning films for sale and distribution and awards. So everyone wants to premiere there, and everything else is considered second- (or third-, or fourth-) best.

It’s also, for better or worse, the defining brand – the words ‘film festival’ are synonymous with Cannes; it’s the only one that everybody knows – and its prize is the only one that means a damn out in the wider world. (Who, apart from a few trainspotters, remembers what won the last two years’ Golden Bears? Or Venice Lions?) Even well-funded contenders like Venice and Berlin, can’t match the value it brings to a film . . . so to try to emulate it in a small city in Scotland, on a budget of £13.75, strikes me as kind of idiotic.

I actually had a test, whenever a journalist complained of EIFF not being enough like Cannes. I’d ask them if they’d ever been to Cannes themselves. And I wasn’t exactly surprised to find that, almost without exception, the answer was no. Supposedly informed professionals, their image of Cannes was essentially no different to any reader of Hello: a non-stop parade of red carpet events, with Angelina Jolie and George Clooney sashaying, while a million flashbulbs pop. Never mind that this spectacle occupies perhaps two or possibly three nights out of the festival’s eleven. The rest of the time, that same red carpet is occupied by precisely the kind of filmmakers in which EIFF specialises: Alexsandr Sukurov, Bela Tarr, Hou Hsiao-hsien . . .

But the press are especially guilty, in this respect, I think. You have people like Andrew Pulver, in the Guardian, complaining last year that Edinburgh had ‘sold out’, somehow, by having films like ‘Toy Story 3’ – which is apparently not what a supposed ‘festival of discovery’ is all about – and then complaining this year that ‘the big films are missing.’ Well, which is it?

You have arts journalists at the Scottish papers mostly sitting on their hands for the first six months of this year, either unable or unwilling to do the kind of basic investigative journalism that might detail what’s happening within what’s become a noticeably strife-torn organisation – a story that, it seems to me, might be of some passing interest to their readers. Other than to trot out their usual piece about how it’s ‘not the same as it was,’ and why, oh why can’t it be better? Meaning, presumably, ‘more like Cannes’.

But by parroting these two things – glassy-eyed nostalgia and a vague, itchy sense that they should say something – they never actually focus on the bigger issues (in particular, the experience the festival offers people who actually buy tickets and attend it – only Siobhan Synnot’s piece in the Scotsman did that this year), and never take a broader perspective, and site the festival in the international world of other film festivals or the international film industry, and consider what external pressures may be upon it, and how well – or not – it’s reacting to those. The level of discourse is so low, it’s staggering. One guy was happy to run something – provided I wrote it myself and basically did his job for him. (And presumably, insulate him from actual blame as well as undue exertion.) I said, er, no.

This is what I mean about the clash of expectations. Everyone has a different and competing idea of what EIFF should be, and the one thing those visions share is that none of them are congruent with social or economic reality. And the people out there now, in the wake of this year’s disaster, saying, oh, it should go back to showing art movies, and being a bastion of academic excellence, a la the 1960s . . . Well, guess what? It’s no longer the 1960s. The audience has changed (and diminished) and so has the culture. And except for a couple of hundred logorrheic nerds on the internet, blogging endlessly to each other, that kind of film culture is largely extinct. And most importantly of all, no one will fund that kind of festival any more. I’m sorry about that, but it’s true.

Steven Soderbergh took time out from OCEAN’S 13 to talk to Shane (right).

DC: When you ran the event, it was a cinephile feast that also had areas of much wider appeal. Are you saying that such a festival is no longer possible? Have we moved that far on/back, that quickly?

SD: Well, that’s nice of you to say. If that’s true – and I’m sure some would disagree – it’s only because, while I hesitate to use the word cinephile, I do love movies. And all types of movies, old and new, from the very commercial to the very, very slow, hermetic and austere. (For the record, test things I’ve seen so far this year: Ruiz’s “Mysteries of Lisbon”, Köhler’s “Sleeping Sickness”, Naranjo’s “Miss Bala”, and Durkin’s “Martha Marcy May Marlene.”) I think that Catholicism of taste is important for an Artistic Director, lest the festival become too much one thing.

(Actually, this does remind me of one funny story from my time there, at a dinner with an actress, who had clearly screwed her co-star during the shoot, and was flirting outrageously with him across the table – much to the irritation of his wife, who was sitting beside him. Eventually the starlet turned a bored eye in my direction, and asked what was good at the festival, anyway? What she should see? I named one or two films screening the following day, but then said, you know, it depends on what kind of movies you like. I mean, I’m sure you’ve got pretty Catholic tastes . . . ‘Oh, no,’ she replied firmly. ‘I don’t like anything about religion.’ A beat of embarrassed silence ensued, during which the actor’s wife was staring right at me, with one eyebrow raised, as if to say, ‘A slut AND an idiot. Nice.’)

The one thing it should be, though, is a reflection of the artistic director’s tastes. Because to me, that’s the job; that’s why I was paid what I used to laughingly refer to as the big bucks. And part of it is simply covering your own ass: no one, in a dismal year, would say, gee, Shane Danielsen’s programmers really let him down … Ultimately, the buck does, and should, stop with you. To be the director of something – be it a festival or a film – means putting your own stamp upon it: this is after all one of the tenets of auteurism. Unless, of course, that film or festival is part of an industrialized process, the work of many hands. Which, unfortunately, may be where Edinburgh is at right now.

This is not uncommon. You know at Toronto the programmers often don’t even write their own catalogue copy? A lot of them have interns or other staffers do it for them, and then put their by-lines to it. And they’re not alone: apparently quite a few festivals do this, now. Because they’re too large, too anonymous, and being run by bureaucrats, or by committee. And also because Film Festival Director or Film Festival Programmer was, for some years, seen as a thing to do, a way to enjoy a certain kind of lifestyle and build a career. Now, of course, the result of all this enthusiasm has become apparent: a sub-prime-mortgage-like bubble of too many festivals fighting over too little product, followed by an inevitable meltdown, timed to the 2008-9 recession. Which brings us to where we are now: a period of correction in the market, where there will undoubtedly be casualties. And EIFF may yet be among them.

Having no EIFF catalogue this year was sad, yes. Obviously that publication was something that was quite close to my heart. But better not to do something at all, I think, then to do it badly.

DC: I agree entirely that the Scottish press has two default stories, “too commercial” and “lacking glamour” and it trots them out alternately more or less at random. But isn’t there some way the Festival could GIVE them another, better story, something worth writing about? Journalists, being lazy, might welcome a story that comes pre-packaged.

SD: Oh, indeed. (Sorry, have been watching ‘The Wire’ again, and am very taken with Omar’s speech patterns.) But my question is this: why do we have to do their work for them? Why can’t they bring some kind of informed, analytical perspective to the very thing they’re supposed to cover? I mean, if your beat is the Scottish arts scene, it’s not too hard, is it, to keep abreast of developments? To know the players and follow the narrative? It’s not like you’re covering Wall Street, or trying to find out if Iran are developing a nuclear weapons programme.

Omar.

I didn’t realise, until a friend pointed it out to me about an hour ago, that the Herald subsequently ran your Mullighan piece. (Did he know that was going to happen? And did he consent to it being used, there? Because I certainly wouldn’t.) This, to me, is the Scottish press in a nutshell: aggregators of other people’s content. You did the hard work, and they scooped it up. Presumably, in the spare minutes between updating their Twitter feeds.

[DC: The journalist in question tweeted to let me know he was writing the piece and was nice enough to ask how I wanted to be described. But he didn’t actually ask permission, I guess because once something is labeled “news” it belongs to everybody. James Mullighan expressed surprise that the Herald didn’t call him directly: it’s not like he’s been in hiding.]

James Mullighan.

DC: Some might accuse you of score-settling here. Can you offer a positive suggestion for carving out a future for smaller film festivals generally?

SD: Well, that’s the unfortunate consequence of my compulsion to speak truth to power – ironically, the very quality which defines a good journalist. But Hannah, I know, is just as sad and furious as I am. She’s just a more tactful and politic person. As she said to me just this morning, she has to live in Edinburgh. I don’t.

But score-settling … I don’t know about that. I haven’t said anything here that I haven’t said already to the people themselves. I haven’t spoken to Mark in a few years, perhaps because he’s always clinging on so tightly to his Famous Friend. It’s hard to get his attention. But given the spirit of the last discussion we did have, at Edinburgh’s Closing Night Party in 2005, I don’t think he’s under any illusions as to my feelings about him. Had he been in Cannes this year, I certainly would have gone up and given him some feedback – if only in terms of how to write a press release that doesn’t make your balls ache. Though my wife said she was relieved he wasn’t, as she didn’t much fancy bailing me out of a French jail.

But I did make a point of speaking to James Mullighan, just as I made a point of meeting Gavin Miller. And I did so because I wanted to get my own sense of each of them, rather than go on gossip and hearsay. And I expressed my concerns to each of them, as an ‘interested stakeholder’, honestly and forthrightly – but above all politely; voices were never raised above a polite murmur.

I also chose to hold my tongue about Edinburgh for a number of years, as I said at the beginning of this talk, feeling it wasn’t my place to comment. But given this year’s debacle, I thought it might be time to use this project of yours for what could be most pertinent: an interrogation of where EIFF is at, and how it came to get there, rather than yet another chance to bask in the rosy glow of nostalgia, and remember when so-and-so came, and so-and-so said, and so on, and so on . . .

I’m not in Scotland; I’m out in the world. And I cannot overstate to you the degree of dismay and disappointment in the international film community right now. For agents, Edinburgh is something to be avoided, lest it tarnish their clients’ reputation (and believe me when I say that my sources, in this regard, are excellent ones). For many sales agents, as I said, it’s simply ceased to matter; they’ve struck it off their lists of significant festivals to deal with. The river flows fast, in the world of film festivals: you stop swimming for a moment, and you drown.

For distributors, it’s a non-event, without either the money, the press profile or the reputation to make the necessary difference to their films. It’s broken – and worse still, it’s broke. And what we’re seeing now is the result, not only of a catastrophic series of appointments since Hannah’s departure, but of a long-term narrative of financial mismanagement and administrative neglect. In which I am as every bit guilty as anyone else. I should have done more, or been smarter, or stronger. I definitely should have been a better manager. But I also could see the ossification of the organisation from within, and its dysfunction – and also, how the tide was turning in the broader world. I’m very glad I got out when I did, at the last possible moment that doing it could have been remotely considered fun.

Claudia Cardinale resolutely failing to look like Shane Danielsen.

DC: Whatever the cause of the Festival’s problems, the solution has to involve enlisting and empowering an Artistic Director who can improve the event’s standing by their very reputation, and then funding the thing to a reasonable level so it can do what its more informed critics demand: not compete with Cannes, but stand on its own as a worthy event presenting exciting modern cinema and retrospectives and events and stimulating thought, for the pleasure of Edinburgh residents and visitors alike. That’s the minimum. If Gavin Miller and his Centre for the Moving Image can’t do that, what are they paid so handsomely for? 
Here is the link to the CMI’s website. Does this suggest a vibrant organisation working to promote cinema?  A “powerhouse of ideas and activity”? I don’t see the evidence of it here. I think this organisation needs to change from secrecy to opennessm admit its mistakes and move on. The process of choosing the next Artistic Director is underway. I hope they make a good choice.

The Edinburgh Dialogues #4: James Mullighan

Posted in FILM, MUSIC with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 29, 2011 by dcairns

James Mullighan, fresh from bruising treatment in the British press for the perceived failings of the 65th Edinburgh International Film Festival, was good enough to speak to me, to set the record straight, express his side of things, and put forward a bold vision of the Festival’s potential future.

James has worked for Sony Classical and Columbia records in Australia and as a journalist. When recruited for the Festival he was creative director of Shooting People, the online network of independent film-makers.

James is a nice man and no idiot: you may not agree with what he has to say, but let’s be polite.

The day of our interview, the Festival board had just issued a press release confirming that some of the changes to the 65th Festival would be reversed next year, and that the new director would be a cinephile — this had to seem like a shot at James, who, by his own admission, is not a man with an all-consuming passion for, and encyclopedic knowledge of movies. He did, however, bring the Festival in on budget and in an impossibly short time frame.

I find James commendably frank in the following interview, conducted a Filmhouse a couple of weeks ago. In a few instances there might be more to things than he can reveal, and also other people may have very different takes on what went on. I’d be very interested in getting everyone’s views.

DC: There are lost of positives – all the industry events, from everyone I spoke to in the industry, were well received. I wasn’t aware of a lot of talk about films that were on that shouldn’t have been. A lot of people were happy with the films they did see.

So I guess some of the negativity was inevitably down to it being a smaller festival. And some of it was specific choices they didn’t like.

You came into the job under circumstances that people on the outside didn’t necessarily understand. I wondered if you could talk about how it all began for you.

JM: As you know, well before I came into the picture, there was wholesale change at the top. Iain Smith resigned, Leslie Hills was appointed, the Centre for the Moving Image was created, Gavin [Miller] was appointed, Hannah McGill resigned, Ginnie [Atkinson, Festival Producer] had resigned six months earlier […] and budgets were set. And the budgets were, necessarily, with the end of that three-year funding that the Film Council gave us, considerably smaller. For the Festival especially, but also for the CMI as a whole. So Gavin had to merge jobs, and that was all very unpleasant and uncomfortable, the last few months of last year.

Then Mark [Cousins} and Tilda [Swinton] were appointed as artistic advisors [also Linda Myles] at the CMI. And one of the first things they did, because they [the CMI] had failed to find a director, was, they started work on a consultancy process – this is back in October/November. And they said “Here’s our vision for the Festival: No Michael Powell Awards, no red carpets, and and and… playful… naked events on Salisbury Crags, all sorts of things. A very Mark, playful, philosophical, intellectual, risky, bold proposition which he put to the Board. The Board signed up for it.

And so then, a slightly different recruitment process started, which was someone to produce and direct that event. Then I got into conversations with Gavin, somebody I know recommended he speak to me, this is in early December, we had a couple of chats on the phone, he came down to London, we had a long afternoon together, and I came back up and met Leslie and Mark, and Mark spent more time talking about what he had in mind. And I agreed that sounded exciting and bold and would give it a shot, and my appointment was announced January.

I started working part-time on both Shooting People and the Festival, and I started full-time on the Festival on the 6th of February. Soon after, Mark, Tilda and Lynda delivered their blueprint that they called All That Heaven Allows… have you seen it?

DC: No…

JM: You probably know quite a bit about what was in it…

DC: Yes, but I’ve not seen a full document. Mark sent me the initial proposal.

JM: So, I had face-to-face or email conversations with them about how each of their aspects of how All That Heaven Allows was progressing, so a whole afternoon in Mark’s flat, guest curator by guest curator, a series of meetings – Lynda lives near where I live in London, so we meet up quite often, still do. Tilda was instrumental in me being introduced to, for instance, Jefferson Hack and Rankin of Dazed & Confused, as guest curators as well […] and then we announced on the 14h of February: Creative Scotland Expo Fund does a bash at the Berlinale and so I stood up, thanked everyone and (and Lynda was next to me, actually) “Here are eight guest curators,” and we announced that morning via a press release. The blogs lit up. A misapprehension was immediately created that those eight names, Isabella Rossellini, Alan Warner, Gus Van Sant, Mike Skinner… were all coming to the Festival. Actually, if I look back at the language I used, I could maybe have put in “This Does Not Mean They Are Coming,” but I didn’t mean to imply that they were, but that implication was taken.

Meantime, I’m developing, as much as I could, the other ideas, both for films and strands that were in the All That Heaven Allows document. At the same time, making a bit of a commercial assessment of “What must we put on to hit X target?” And so Mark had said, “Why don’t you play ten films, or so?” and then I said to Diane [Henderson] and the programming team, “We need a lot more than that. As you are going round festivals, think of it as more like fifty or sixty.” Which is half what we played the year before. And so the shape then was, a bit less than half the Festival as 2010, 9 and 8, and then as much of All That Heaven Allows as I could get done at that late point. And there was a whole bunch of stuff that I wanted to do anyway, like develop the industry side, but also throw those shows open to the public, and bring in a couple of guest curators of my own, like Vimeo, and Streetwise Opera and Open Cinema and Vice.

DC: So you had, essentially, half the time that someone would normally have in the job, to put together a radically different kind of Film Festival…

JM: Less than half. Work had begun in that Hannah [McGill, outgoing director] went toToronto anyway, so she kept her eye open for some films, not on the payroll or anything. And Rod [White] who programmes Filmhouse went to Sundance, and we all went to Berlin, and Diane went to Gothenberg, and I think Rotterdam. So, a handful of Usual Suspect feeding-grounds for films. But yes, if we’d had that blueprint six months earlier, and me six months earlier, I suspect a lot more of it would have ended up in the show.

Some of it got really quite well developed and then dropped out at the last minute. Greil Marcus was going to do a mini-retrospective, and then he just couldn’t come, which is a shame. I’d like to think that if I get another crack at it, then the initiated All That Heaven Allows project will continue, with some of the content that Mark suggested this year that I couldn’t get done, but also, just that approach.

So then, Mike Skinner worked up a show, but at the last minute he just couldn’t come so we had to pull it. But they’re really super-keen to come back.

DC: So, of the things you were able to put on, there were some definite hits. What was your happiest moment, or the thing you’re proudest of?

JM: I was very proud of Project New Cinephilia. And that brought some new people to the Festival who hadn’t given it so much attention before, it also gave an opportunity for people to come to the Festival wearing a different hat. So Jason Wood from Artificial Eye came, and normally he’d come up just to look for films or to see how his film’s going, but then he came and contributed to that. I thought that kicked the Festival off well. There’s an absolute opportunity for that to become a permanent fixture. I think it needs a tweak, but not too much. They worked on it very thoroughly, Kate [Taylor] and Damon [Smith] and got it right. There’s a digital publication that exists now, and I think we could, for not very much money, do a physical publication […]

Some of the events that were going to be perfectly reasonable events, premieres in the Festival like PERFECT SENSE, became monster events. We lucked in, and Ewan MacGregor was free for a weekend and could attend, so what would have been two packed shows at the Cameo became a packed show at the Festival Theatre.

I was very pleased that practically all of the Reel Science programming filled up the halls. In fact, if we did that again I’d be putting it on at more favourable times of the day and bigger halls. Some of the films that ordinarily wouldn’t have had a scientist onstage, that were just in the programme anyway, like PROJECT NIM and TO HELL AND BACK AGAIN we added a scientist to the mix so it felt more integrated, rather than being a side-bar.

At pace, we put together the cluster of shorts events. With more time, I’m sure we could have sold twice as many tickets, which would have been purely through marketing. And thank God we didn’t put the show on sale any later than we did do, because marketing had a month to market what they were accustomed to market.  But I was really pleased with the shorts weekender. We had a supportive brand which kept out of it as well as paying for it. They were super-pleased. The people who had programmed some shorts at the Festival before, I gave them a lot of rope, and Kim [Knowles] did her experimental stuff anyway, which was very popular, best sales she’s ever had. And Iain [Gardner]’s animation and Lydia [Beilby]’s narratives: beautiful programmes, they really were, and they’ve been very well received. We’d do that again.

DC: For years there’s been a problem with the short films, and putting them all together like that seemed to help, it concentrated the attention and created a buzz around them. I should confess to some bias because I was a guest at the New Cinephilia event and I had a short in the shorts event.

JM: That was a really nice idea of Diane’s. To put on a programme of Scottish stuff could be perceived as a bit parochial, and at the same time it really cried out for it this year. A lot of submissions of Scottish shorts didn’t quite fit with what Ian and Lydia had in mind, so we were scratching our heads and thinking “How can we do that?” and the answer was “Let’s do one which is the opposite of what people expect.” Which was, rather than a bunch of dour, social realism, let’s have fun. So well done Diane for bringing those in.

Bela Tarr’s presence lit up the Festival for three days, his film was rapturously received, he brought three pieces of pretty-much unknown Hungarian cinema. He spoke after each screening. Those audiences were just blown away.

DC: And he’s quite a presence.

One of the people I’ve spoken to is Hannah McGill who says the worst aspect of the job is the relentless negativity of the Scottish press, which does seem to be year after year. That’s more or less a constant: you may have had it worse, but everyone’s had bruising experiences. So what would you like to say to defend your record?

JM: I’ve got a few things to say, one of which relates to Hannah. When a comment that I’d said was written up in a newspaper, they twisted it: they made it sound like a criticism of Hannah. I immediately went out of my way to let her know my words had been twisted. She wrote me a very sympathetic email and ended up giving me a great piece of advice which was “Stop reading the press.” And on that day, I turned my Google Alerts off. So people would say “Oh, see The Herald?” “Nope!”

So that’s a comment. The other comment is, “There’s press and there’s press.” Disappointingly, Richard Brooks in The Sunday Times, a chap in The Telegraph [David Gritten], both wrote pieces about the death of the Edinburgh Film Festival without bothering to do any research, get a comment, they’d obviously just listened to some tattle and wrote it up as if it was news. And then, because it’s been printed, it exists and it gets carried. And before you know it, the wires are reporting something that’s been tossed off – I found that very disappointing. A lot of the time what was written, and Phil Miller at The Herald was especially good at this, and Tim Cornwell at The Scotsman was good at this, was unfortunate, in that one doesn’t like to have anything unpleasant written about one, but actually was fair comment. I also used to be a journalist, I’ve written for The Scotsman, so I know that “The Film Festival’s great, and all’s going well” ain’t much of a story. But every now and again a fact would be twisted to sound like a drama. An example of that is, I was hired to get this festival up, and it was announced that after the Festival the process for recruiting an artistic director would take place. It was a little unfortunate and unnecessary, I thought, that somebody got their hands on that and ran it while I was still in post, I found that really uncomfortable. But what was worse was the implication in the press that I’d been sacked after only four months, that I was fighting for my job… We may not have shared with the press from the beginning that I was on a six/seven month contract, but there’s no question of being sacked. So: most of the time, fair comment and unpleasant to read but fair comment. This is a Festival pedalling very hard to tidy itself up and get itself back together and stand back up on its own two feet, not surprising given its recent history. But lazy journalism, and snipey journalism for its own sake, it’s unfair and unpleasant and unhelpful.

DC: The things that concerned me were the programme, or guide, that was an industry guide rather than a programme. I could see the justification for shrinking it, but I was disappointed that the films were at the back and there wasn’t any writing about them.

JM: You missed the catalogue. Everyone was sad about that, I was disappointed not to be able to do a catalogue. We didn’t have the budget for it and I went scrabbling around trying to raid other bits of the budget, but it was a good ten, eleven thousand pounds that we just didn’t have.

That’s certainly not the only cut that really hurt. One of the invisible ones is that usually a team of three or so would run a certain department, and this year it was a team of two or something. So everyone was really ragged, we worked everyone to absolute exhaustion.

There was lots of data about the films that we couldn’t publish in hard copy. The guest services was hugely reduced, so we had to say No to some people who might want to come because we couldn’t afford expensive hotel rooms and business class flights. If we can resurrect the budget, I would definitely reinstate the catalogue, everyone misses that.

DC: I might be wrong here, but early on there was talk about reducing ticket prices, but in the end they went up.

JM: I think the full price went up. Concessions stayed the same. And the deals were scrapped. And that’s definitely something to reconsider, because that’s been a chorus of disapproval. I don’t necessarily stand behind it. We projected what money we needed to make and how many tickets were on sale and what likely capacities were… in that we did sell those tickets and did less deals that helped us hit out targets. But we’ll take that into consideration. I mean, one element is that if you’re paying full price for five films rather than paying for five films and getting the sixth free, or whatever the deal was, you were less likely to experiment. You’re more likely to, in the end, only go and see three films.

DC: And then you might be less inclined to spend your day in the Filmhouse drinking and eating in the bar, which also brings in money. I definitely know people who normally come for the whole ten days and this year only came for a couple of days, because they couldn’t afford it.

So, I suppose the lack of a big retrospective, because that’s something I always particularly enjoy…

JM: I think we were wise not to attempt to do one in four months. I think it takes a long time to put that together and get it right. Source prints, and find people to write about them, commission writing about them. And I imagine that if we were sitting here two years ago, I’d be able to hint at, without revealing, that we’d already started work on the retrospective for next year. I don’t think that would have been a good thing to rush. I also think that the mini-retrospectives on Jarman, the Hungarians, and Skolimowski filled a void.

DC: Yes, I appreciated seeing them, there were things you’d never expect to see. I think what you don’t get with that is that sense of unity a retrospective can bring, starting on day one and ending on the last day, binding it all together. I don’t know of a substitute for that.

JM: You’re not the first person to say so.

DC: They’ve announced that the Michael Powell Awards will be back…

JM: They have, haven’t they?

DC: With a hint that they were only ever intended to go away for one year…

JM: Well, I have been saying this, over and over again – and I inherited these decisions – all that was tossed away, Michael Powell Awards, red carpets and all that – was for this year of experimentation, and everything is both and off the table. So the Board has listened to various voices and decided the Michael Powell Award is to be reintroduced and that seems to be popular.

DC: Yeah. I’m always happy if somebody gives me an award, but I don’t think they’re important, but they’re probably useful for attracting films – the chance of winning something. The Michael Powell Award was expensive to administer, because of the celebrity jury, but it needn’t be. You don’t necessarily have to have an expensive imported jury.

JM: And that expensive imported jury paid itself off in a way as well, because Danny Huston wandering around town meant that we got lots more coverage. There’s lots of things I’d like to reinstate. One of the things, should I be given another run at it, is having another couple hundred conversations like this, David, although without the Dictaphone necessarily… “What do you think?” You think retrospectives, proceed with the Cinephilia, that works, shorts seem to work, and I’d take all of that seriously, but I’d do it a couple of hundred times. I’d go to London, I’d go to Glasgow, I’d go to New York, and I’d deeply, deeply research what this Festival needs to be for those who need the Festival. Some of them might say, “Bring Michael Powell back,” they might also say “Create a slate of other awards as well.” But if it’s me, it’ll be after a deep consultation.

Similarly with dates. That’s to be taken very seriously and carefully. I hear the clamour for August. I’ve been to four Junes now, and run one, and I’ve been to six Augusts, and I know exactly what they’re saying. It’s amazing out there in August.

DC: But can it filter in here?

JM: It definitely can. And if we use the Cameo. Might go and talk to Cineworld, Vue, we need extra cinemas. The concern is, having left August, that space has clammed up, or been filled up. The Point [Conference Centre] which we used as the delegate centre, is now a [Edinburgh Festival] Fringe venue.

And that’s the second stage. The first stage is, those two hundred conversations.

DC: What I heard from the other people I spoke to was… Hannah McGill obviously had all of the reasons at her fingertips why the move had been made in the first place. They were good reasons.

JM: I’m probably a bit more June than August. A local friend of mine this morning said “Oh it’s lovely that it’s in June, because it’s something else to do in the summer.” As much as we are an industry festival, we can’t forget that four out of five tickets sold are to people within a ten minute bus ride of [postcode] EH3.

DC: Jim Hickey reckoned that a move back to August might be inevitable, just to prove that the Festival is listening to criticism. Whether it’s right or wrong, they might feel they have to…

JM: I think Jim’s very close to the nub of the matter, but not quite. I think there’s lots of things that we can do in June, that if we persist for a year or two, we could double this Festival, where we could never double it by going back to August. That’s exactly what the plan is.

DC: There would be other ways to prove that the Festival is listening to criticism other than a move back to August. And there are other dates that have been floated.

JM: I don’t think the listening process involves reading The Scotsman.

DC: [Laughter]

JM: It involves reading Sight & Sound. And Screen. And Variety. And The Herald to a certain extent, and The Times to a certain extent. It involves a hundred meetings.

DC: The Scotsman, historically, has hated everything Scottish Screen or Creative Scotland have been involved with.

[I do apologise if this is unfair to specific writers at the Scotsman. But it does seem to sum up the paper's overall stance for the last fifteen years.]

JM: The last word on The Scotsman is they’re lucky my mother wasn’t here.

We need to talk about WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN.

DC: So, I guess there were specific films that weren’t here –

JM: That we didn’t get, yes. I was working on that list for my director’s report when you announced yourself. WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN was the big one. Tilda had made it clear through her agent that she just couldn’t come because she was filming. Lynn [Ramsay] could come. Seamus [McGarvey, cinematographer] could not come. And then after that, other people involved in the project don’t light up the gala so much. Like the boy, and John C Reilly.

And so Artificial Eye said “We’ve got the opportunity to have everybody, on a major junket, on the Croisette. And then we’re not releasing until –” whenever it is, October, September? “So why would I give it to you, given that you are without Tilda? Then they had this huge gap where all that heat would dissipate. I fought for it. Every point he made I countered. But he’d made up his mind.

Then there was YOU’VE BEEN TRUMPED. This is the other one I “failed” to get. But I didn’t fail to get it, I chose not to programme it. An average, made-for-telly documentary about Donald Trump’s golf course. And when I rejected it, the filmmaker decided to talk to the press and say that “Mullighan’s scared to programme it,” or “Mullighan is in thrall to Scottish government. They won’t let him programme it.” And the answer was, Edinburgh just wasn’t right for it.

I also “failed” to get THE WICKER TREE. And then I heard about it, I went to Rod, Diane and Jenny [Leask] and everyone, and asked, what have you heard about it, and they went [horrified expression, hands raised as if to ward off great evil ].

So I rang the filmmaker back and said “Well, I don’t think the Festival is quite the right launch pad for your film, what you should do is build yourself a cult experience…” Stopping short of telling him my opinion of the film.

DC: I’ve heard from others who have seen it… you could have shown it, you got knocked for not showing it, but if you had shown it, the criticism would have been so much worse…

JM: But that’s not what [Brian] Pendreigh wants to write about in Scotland on Sunday.

DC: Had it lived up to its illustrious predecessor, obviously it would have been a great addition…And TREE OF LIFE?

JM: Yeah, that sucked. That was on the table, but unlikely, when it was with Icon, who also gave us PROJECT NIM. But they said, “It’s unlikely, there’s always a protracted legal battle with a Malick film.” And then suddenly it was on, and I immediately wrote to them and said “Come on!”, they said “Don’t believe what you’re reading online, it’s very difficult,” and then suddenly, and this is now well after the Festival book has been printed and there’s only two weeks to go to the Festival, Icon lose it and Fox Searchlight get it. And so we ring Fox Searchlight and say, “Of course: what do you want for THE TREE OF LIFE? Especially, I hear there’s a 70mm print kicking around, that’d be quite nice in Filmhouse 1, what do you need?” She said, “James, I don’t know if I can… this is a month before it comes out. We’ve only got it yesterday […] For me, you’re an administrative complication, not an opportunity.” I went, “Well, whatever I can do, whatever I can do…” She said, “Well, I’ll talk to you at the end of the day.” I talked to her at the end of the day and she said, “I just don’t want to.”

DC: Frustrating. Hannah said, because people who are watching from the outside aren’t party to all this, they make the assumption that everything’s your choice.

JM: Yeah. Why have I turned down THE TREE OF LIFE, or Why have I tried to get it and failed? Which I admit: I tried to get it and failed.

DC: And “Why have you chosen to have a film festival that’s not as big as Cannes?”

JM: We don’t have the endowments to put on those shows. Our budget was well under a million pounds this year.

DC: And Cannes excludes the public, it’s an entirely different event.

JM: People don’t consider what those film festivals are for, they consider the pictures of the actresses on the front pages of the newspapers. The critics go there and gorge on all these films that are desperate to get into Cannes. And I said in a statement, “We have neither the will nor the appetite to recreate the wattage of Cannes, Venice, Berlin and Toronto”. I  also believe that when Edinburgh gets super-fancy it doesn’t look right. It’s not that kind of town, it’s not LA, it’s not Cannes, it’s not Sydney with its glitterati, you’re just a different breed of people. Haven’t really got the buildings for it, don’t have a purpose-built Palais de Festival. The Festival Theatre does work, after a fashion. I also think, in these straitened times, when this country especially has had to suck in its stomach a little bit, squandering – quote me on this – squandering taxpayer money flying in the stars for the sake of a few people who miss that, is just not something I’d be interested in even if I had the budget.

DC: I heard that a previous year was offered Brangelina, but that was going to be $300,00 or something.

JM: Brangelinas cost. Bela Tarr came EasyJet.

Imagine a Freedom of Information request, if we’d had two million pounds and we’d spent it on Brangelinas, and we’d kept half a dozen journalists and fifty people from Edinburgh high society happy. I’d rather be answering these questions than those.

And then, when you do it without trying to do it, we were fortunate Ewan MacGregor comes to town, fortunate Kings of Leon were playing Murrayfield the next day, and you don’t block off the street in a metropolis, you do it in a big building and you get a hundred people with their iPhone cameras and you get a few burly security guards to make sure there’s no crush, in comes Ewan, Ewan stands on stage, packed house, and it’s beautiful. That’s all you need. That’s why we were trying to distinguish between a red carpet as a piece of fabric and a red carpet as an approach. The approach is the ugly thing, I think.

Certainly that’s how it’s going to happen for the next few years whoever runs the show.

It’s quite nice to be with Ewen Bremner at one o’clock in the morning at the Library Bar in the Teviot, that’s great. If people who are famous want to come, please do!

DC: What else do you think, for going forward, for whoever comes into the job, you or anybody else? What’s the way forward?

JM: I do believe that with careful planning and building new partnerships you can pretty much double the score with roughly the same dates, with more films, I think that’s a worthy goal. And I think that having conversations with suppliers, producers, sales agents and distributors, starting those conversations in September rather than February, will mean that the odd Tyrannosaur we didn’t get because we tried to do it too fast, we would get, so the programme would get beefed up a little. Also I think what we learned – if the successor wants to pursue the guest curator stuff, that could become a much bigger, more lively, more compelling, audience-diversifying proposition. I know there’s a lot of low-hanging brand fruit out there, the likes of which we used for the shorts weekend, that we don’t have to put stars on red carpet with champagne brand experiences. You can go and get those brands if you want. I just think you can tease out some of this programming and offer it as a package to a brand, so that it speaks to their values. And once they’ve paid for it, you can do more of it and take risks. I think we’ve barely skimmed the surface of what we can do with science. And popular science never has been more so. Popular scientists are quite like the rock stars now, Brian Cox is playing stadia. Brian Cox and Ben Goldacre, I’m not saying they’re coming, but I know we could build those up.

I’m a big believer in – because this is not the first Festival I’ve run – and inevitably we’re shagged out at this exact moment in the year – but I do believe a festival can have year-round activity which means it’s not solely reliant for its success in what happens in the big ten or twelve days. And even though you have a calendar year of sorts, there’s still an Edinburgh Film Festival brand which could package and present content outside of Edinburgh, maybe around Scotland, Britain, or overseas. I think it’s a good revenue generator. I think festivals kill themselves putting themselves on and only rarely do they have a year-round programme of events which generates revenue – the Sundance Institute would be a perfect example of that, and an aspiration of mine is to emulate some of the best things that they do. Which is, you have your massive showcase of films, and included in that showcase are films which have been developed within the Sundance Institute’s laboratories. And one of the conditions is that the premiere would be at Sundance. So it becomes a double Sundance film. I see no reason why that couldn’t happen here. We’ve got fantastic talents, and fantastic talents come to this Festival as well. I would take that even a step further and make our lab a cross-platform fiction lab. So film might be at the centre of the project, but other things as well.

We weren’t partners with the University this year, we just used one of their buildings, and we did that quickly, but more of it could be done. Which means I think we could find a trail of buildings from here [Filmhouse] to Teviot which would make that walk feel smaller. The appetite was high but the timing was bad to use Edinburgh College of Art, because of their grad shows, but it’s full of cool spaces and it’s halfway. And once you get to there, the whole university precinct is empty in June.

But we got George Square [Theatre], I think that worked really nicely, that venue.

In the hoped-for event that I get another run at it, and it ends up being in June again, I would use the Festival Theatre a lot more, because it works now, and they’re used to us now. We did five shows in there. We did the very different propositions that are THE LION KING in 3D, the Kings of Leon with the band on stage, PAGE 8 with Bill Nighy onstage, and PERFECT SENSE. Each of them are completely different films, all of them the people said “This is the best room this film’s played in.” It’s an opera theatre, surprisingly it’s big, it’s really quite steep, and they took our head of tech’s advice and spent heavily when they kitted it out, so the tech’s beautiful in there.

We’ve had quite a bit of feedback from delegates about how we could make things better as well. A few of them were disappointed with the numbers of films in the videotheque. I think the answer to that problem is, rather than it being a box-ticking exercise, it’s actually about talking to them patiently about what the risks and rewards are of having a film in the videotheque. I think a lot more of them could be convinced. It was beautiful this year, much bigger…

DC: You’ve said that if it were up to you, you’d like to do the job again, despite the attacks, the criticism, the stress of it all… do you think there’s support for that, and if there’s resistance, what do you think the resistance is based on?

JM: To me doing it again? There’s plenty of people in this organisation who are fans. I think what the Festival needs to be, in its next edition, needs to be very thoroughly thought through. And if the board decide that what they need is a cineaste in the old mould, someone who watches films all day, then it’s pretty unlikely that I’d get the job. It seems that’s what they’re recruiting for, and I’m going to apply anyway with my vision of what the Festival should be, and then we’ll see how that goes down.

DC: Thank you very much.

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