Archive for Tilda Swinton

Take Care of My Cat

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , on June 23, 2012 by dcairns

I had the pleasure of seeing Richard Ledes’ FRED when I was looking at submissions for the Film Festival — I watched it with the growing conviction that it was something unusual and very strong and then it slam-dunked a SUPERB final scene. I was able to congratulate one of its stars, Elliott Gould, since he’s here at the Fest, but while I was talking to him and perhaps gesticulating too broadly, Fiona stepped into my area of gesticulation and I hit her in the teeth with my beer bottle. Fortunately she wasn’t harmed, bit it was sore and kind of embarrassing.

“I can’t believe you hit me in the face with a bottle in front of Elliott Gould,” she said, later.

“That’s OK, he’s used to it,” I replied, thinking of THE LONG GOODBYE.

Another thing reminiscent of the Altman classic — Gould spends the whole of FRED longing for the return of a lost cat. I’m sure that wasn’t added to the script with him in mind, but it makes for a lovely connection.

The whole time I was watching the film, I was wondering WHO IS THAT? Not about Elliott Gould, but about the woman who plays his wife. I knew I knew her from somewhere. I mean, she was really familiar. So I looked up Judith Roberts and realized she’s the Beautiful Girl Across the Hall in ERASERHEAD. She’s still incredibly striking.

Speaking of the whole “I know that face” phenomenon — Mark Cousins introduced me to his regular collaborator Tilda Swinton yesterday, which was lovely. She threw me for a loop by immediately saying, “I have a feeling I know you.”

Well, I think the only time I’ve been in the same room with T.S. was in that very same room, Filmhouse Screen 1, when she was on the stage with Derek Jarman talking about CARAVAGGIO, and I was sitting in the seat she was sitting in when she said “I have a feeling I know you.”

But I didn’t think to say that.

I could have just said, “You are obviously confusing me with Brad Pitt.”

But I didn’t think to say that either.

Twang

Posted in FILM, MUSIC, Politics with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 15, 2011 by dcairns

ARROWS OF UNDESIRE

Fiona had to drag me to see WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN due to my phobia about Scottish cinema. I know this is an American-set story with some British money involved, but the director is Lynn Ramsay, wunderkind of Scottish miserablism, a genre I never had any sympathy with. All through my early years trying to find some entry point into filmmaking, the movies that got backing seemed impossibly glum and unappealing — it was only after I scored a success with my short CRY FOR BOBO that I realized the movie’s subtext was pure autobiography: a character trapped in a world that demands earnest gloom when all he can offer is silliness.

That said, in certain ways Ramsay was a ray of cinematic sunlight, from her own early shorts to her first feature, RATCATCHER. Although she deployed the working-class settings of social realism, her films occasionally departed from the old songbook, notably when a mouse is carried to the lunar surface by balloon in RATCATCHER. And, as a former stills photographer, Ramsay trusts the image, and can serve up strikingly beautiful shots, some of which look like, as she once put it, “the photos you wish you could take,” while others transcend the striking frame to get into the poetry of movement. And added to this is some striking sound design, pointing to a very different artistic ambition from the social realist Ken Loach school (Loach can never do anything interesting with music or sound because he’s committed to an observational style — Ramsay’s weird mix of subjective and omniscient narration allows her to get into quite psychedelic soundscapes).

On the minus side, I still find Ramsay’s devotion to misery offputting, and when the misery isn’t entirely convincing I really resent it. If something isn’t enjoyable to watch, it better have some clear connection to life, some truth. I’m talking about the end of RATCATCHER here, while trying not to “spoil” it. Also, Ramsay’s tendency to lift shots from Tarkovsky annoyed me — I don’t object to filmmakers pilfering, but I do feel anybody lifting a shot from elsewhere is obliged to transform it, either by redesigning/improving it, or at least slotting it into a totally different context so the stolen moment is forced to function differently. DePalma’s repurposing of Eisenstein’s Odessa Steps sequence in THE UNTOUCHABLES is bold plagiarism, but at least there’s creativity in the idea of transforming propaganda into action cinema. Swiping art cinema to make art cinema is too easy: Ramsay’s borrowings from MIRROR, like Peter Mullan’s from THREE COLOURS BLUE in THE MAGDALEN SISTERS, strike me as lazy and unimaginative. When the most striking cinematic effect in your film is stolen wholesale from an easily available source in the same genre you aspire to, that’s a real condemnation of your ambition and imagination.

THE UPSIDE OF MISERY

Happily, KEVIN seems devoid of undigested borrowings — the sound design is trippy and provokes a persistent feeling of dread. Seamus McGarvey’s photography is outstandingly beautiful: long sequences simply follow one stunningly evocative image with another, making strong choices as to focus and framing — visually beautiful in a way that’s neither aimlessly decorative nor obviously illustrative. The movie’s really curious about images. It’s very obvious that this is a film made with an outsider’s eye for Americana, which sometimes leans towards slightly lazy caricature but also provides a strong, individual viewpoint at all times. Interestingly, it’s not the viewpoint of anybody in the film (the protagonists are all native Americans, though the central character is played by fellow Scot Tilda Swinton), so it adds a sense of distance: perhaps the characters are to some extent observing their lives from the outside.

The performances are uniformly strong, with Swinton utterly committed and the kids typically compelling — Ramsay gets results by auditioning massive numbers of kids, anywhere she can find them, and then working VERY hard with them. Ezra Miller is quite a discovery — with those looks and that talent, he’ll go far. The weakest link is probably John C Reilly, just because he has a really impossible role and probably hasn’t received the same support as his co-stars — as the willfully blind father of a dangerous problem child he has to keep his blinkers on in the face of truly inescapable evidence of his son’s disturbing tendencies, and the direction and screenplay are more concerned with painting those tendencies in the most unsettling hues than they are with addressing the plausibility of such behaviour being ignored.

Here’s where you have to distrust me a little, because whenever there’s a film by a Scottish filmmaker (and it’s not made by one of my friends) I can get a bit judgmental — I become the cliché of the bitter film critic whose sore because he can’t do it himself. My problems with this film, which may be trumped up from within, are –

THINGS I READ OFF THE SCREEN IN “WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN”

When Tilda backs into a wall of goods in a supermarket, I guess they could’ve been cute and had Tilda’s Rice, but instead they have tins of tomato soup, referencing both Warhol and the film’s RED theme — blood and red paint and tomatoes are a constant motif. The soup is called Ma Ramsay’s Tomato Soup — a cute in-joke and one that speaks of a certain affection from crew to filmmaker, which can only be good. If you spot it, it slightly deflates the drama of the scene, but it’s sweet.

But at the High School where — and this could be a slight spoiler if you don’t want to know ANYTHING, and the film holds this info back a fair while — Kevin runs amok on a killing spree with a bow and arrows, we get inspirational posters… I suspect such posters DO exist in US schools, but they all say heavily ironic things here like “Aim and Achieve.” I mean, HEAVILY ironic.

This implies that either the film isn’t taking its central massacre seriously — which would be unforgivable only because it takes Tilda’s suffering seriously and turns the other grieving parents into monsters — or it’s trying to imply that Kevin’s nihilistic outburst is a response to something in American culture, which doesn’t work because there’s no follow-through on the thought.

HIGH SCHOOL CONFIDENTIAL

I find this kind of ugly, because it’s crude, and it seems like a sick joke. How careful do I require a filmmaker to be in tackling high school massacres? Well, I had no problem with anything in Van Sant’s ELEPHANT — I found the portrayal of the killers to be the least successful or convincing aspect of the movie, but it wasn’t a moral objection and I think the film’s brilliant. And I enjoy all kinds of violent films from time to time, and only really get offended by stuff like FUNNY GAMES that tries to teach me that I shouldn’t.

But the slomo shots of Miller, stripped to the waist, posing with his bow, struck a bum note. Very romantic images. There’s a real feeling of dread created in the movie, but I don’t know why he had to look so sexy there. And arguably Miller’s last scene, facing the consequences of his actions, is intended to strip away that glamour, but if I were a young person on the edge, I know which images would have greater resonance for me. And I have to wonder, am I just jealous of Lynn Ramsay, because “imitable behaviour” is not a concern I’ve raised with any other movie in the years I’ve run Shadowplay

My final problem, hopefully, is in the adaptation of the book — Swinton’s career as travel writer is dropped into a couple of places, and allows for a striking opening sequence (even the film’s evocation of joy comes with slomo dread and crimson splatter), but we’re really allowed to forget about it until it crashes back into the story at odd places. And other plot lacunae are even more striking — WHY is she regarded with loathing by her community after Kevin’s rampage? Because it’s obvious that she’s as much a victim as anybody else. You might think that, as mother of the killer, she’d be regarded with suspicion, but when you see the film this doesn’t work at all, given the particular circumstances. I *guess* maybe the fact that she’s stood by her son, kind of, is the clue to this, but it’s heavily underplayed if so. And I think if you’re going to make a film as bleak as this you need to make it airtight because an audience trapped in its fictive hell is going to look for escape routes with increasing desperation… In a way, that’s how I see the film’s mission: to swathe the viewer in a really despairing narrative and leave no hope of getting out unhurt…

Am I griping because I got dragged to see it, or because I’m a frustrated Scottish director? I flag those possibilities up. Whatever, this is a striking movie, well worth seeing, a “tough watch” intentionally, and my love of entertainment isn’t so overwhelming that I can’t appreciate the value of that sometimes. But do we need more pain?

The Edinburgh Dialogues #6: Lynda Myles

Posted in FILM, Politics with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 19, 2011 by dcairns

Jason Isaacs, Lynda Myles, Ben Miller, at Edinburgh in 2010, under Lynda’s plaque.

Lynda Myles ran Edinburgh International Film Festival in what some have called “the golden age of film programming,” (1973-1980). As Susan Sontag said, “For fifteen years there were new masterpieces every month.”

Lynda inherited a thriving Festival from Murray Grigor, who had turned it around from a moribund spell in the late sixties, with the help of Lynda and her then partner David Will. Grigor, a filmmaker himself, embraced the pair’s cinephile vision and encouraged the Festival to celebrate mavericks like Sam Fuller and Douglas Sirk, who had been largely overlooked by mainstream criticism. Lynda continued this wholeheartedly when she took over as Director, augmenting it with a new focus on theory and ideology.

During this cinematic revolution, Lynda’s critical acumen put Edinburgh at the forefront of the field, with retrospectives on Raoul Walsh, Max Ophuls and Jacques Tourneur, and helping discover both the New German cinema and the New Hollywood cinema. And Lynda co-authored with Michael Pye the first study of the post-Corman generation, film school generation, The Movie Brats, How the Film Generation took over Hollywood.

Since Edinburgh, Lynda has enjoyed a distinguished career as film producer, with DEFENCE OF THE REALM, THE COMMITMENTS and THE SNAPPER among her credits. Now she combines teaching at the National Film School with filmmaking: several new features are in development. No wonder a plaque in her honour is mounted outside Edinburgh’s Filmhouse.

I spoke to Lynda via futuristic Skype machinery and managed to get most of the conversation recorded… then we met up and discussed the interview, enabling me to add more information in parenthesis –

DC: What I’ve been starting with, uncontroversially, is asking all the directors to choose their favourite memories of doing the job…

LM: If it’s not going to complicate things too much, I think one thing to remember is I was actually there over thirteen years. Kind of missed the ’71 Festival, but there was a kind of continuum: Dave Will and I were asked to go and work with Murray [Grigor, previous director], so I was at the Festival for about four or five festivals as programme editor and then deputy editor [before becoming director].

DC: So, during Murray’s time as director, what was most memorable?

The first major, major moment for us was, it had been Dave’s idea to do the Sam Fuller retrospective. It’s very difficult to talk about such ancient history… I know when I talk to students, and I try to talk to them about a time when Sam Fuller, Douglas Sirk etc were not household names, it’s hard. Post-Tarantino, everyone embraces Sam, but when Dave came up with the idea it was a very radical notion and it flew in the face of what the traditional British critical view of the cinema was, which was very much European art cinema. So the moment that Sam Fuller touched down at what we used to call Turnhouse [now Edinburgh Airport], and we met Sam – in a very kitsch way with a bagpiper – we got special permission to meet him with a piper on the tarmac – that was a major thing… we saw it as our intervention with Edinburgh.

http://vimeo.com/27511160
Sam Fuller on a return visit to Edinburgh in 1992.

We were attacked by all sorts of people. I remember a BBC producer meeting Sam and saying, sniffily, “He’s not an intellectual.” But it was our first gesture of oppositional film culture to which Dave and I were committed. We were about twenty at this point, Sam was the first Hollywood director we’d ever met, and you couldn’t have got someone more extraordinary, who threw himself into the Festival, checked out of his hotel, went to stay with Murray at Inverkeithing. So Sam was a major thing.

Probably the most important single person for me was Douglas Sirk. I was sort of in charge of setting up the Sirk event with Jon Halliday, and Jon Halliday and Laura Mulvey co-edited the book of essays on Douglas. And Douglas was one of the most phenomenal people I’ve ever met. He’s remained an enormous influence in all sorts of ways. Roger Corman coming the first time, in 1970: again, when we also published a book.

[This was the period when Edinburgh really got into publishing a book with every retrospective and conference. The Sirk book is now extremely rare, as it was cheaply bound in a manner that caused it to self-destruct upon opening: if you have a copy (as Todd Haynes does), treasure it!]

These were all things that we loved, the directors, we loved their work, but also it had an agenda, which was our whole oppositional culture position.

DC: And it SUCCEEDED!

LM: I could go on and on…

DC: Do! And from your own years as director?

LM: John Huston attending with FAT CITY. And when Scorsese came. I had the privilege of having Robbie Coltraine as my driver that year, before Robbie really started acting, and Robbie had a habit of partying, and not turning up to get me out to the airport, including the morning Scorsese arrived, but moments like that, having Brian DePalma… There were all sorts of directors we loved… before talking to you today, I did look at most of the programmes  except my last year which was a bit of a haze because it was mostly about parties… But it’s interesting the recurring things: we showed David Cronenberg’s early avant-garde features, David came almost every year, we got involved with Jonathan Demme when he was still a writer with THE HOT BOX, and then we showed his first film as a director. I think we had a Jonathan Demme film almost every year. And there was a whole New York underground, Amos Poe, Yvonne Rainer, Warhol, lots of that, lots of avant-garde… George Romero… I mean, one of my favourite nights was when we used to view at Filmhouse, we used to view all summer, films that had been sent to the Festival, and I’ll always remember the night we started watching this film which turned out to be ERASERHEAD… which was an extraordinary moment.

[Many people have claimed they founded the Edinburgh Television Festival, but Lynda wants to stake her claim here: Gus MacDonald and Lynda Myles started the TV Festival, along with a committee including Clive Goodwin, Barrie Hanson and Brian Gibson. The Film Festival begat the Television Festival, partly because much of the best filmmaking in the seventies seemed to be happening on TV (Stephen Frears, John MacKenzie) but the work couldn't be screened at the Film Festival for legal copyright/licensing reasons. The TV Festival found a way round that, and John McGrath delivered the first MacTaggart lecture, trashing the TV industry for the "endemic naturalism" that still plagues it today.]

So there’s endless stuff. But one of the things I wanted to say about my time there was, I think I was very lucky because I think the ‘70s is recognized as the Golden Age of Programming, so I was incredibly lucky because I hit New German Cinema. We’d actually shown some of Wim’s [Wenders] shorts, we’d shown some Fassbinder from about 1970, but I was very lucky because the time I took over as director coincided with New German Cinema kind of exploding and I think one year we showed about 24 German movies. And they all came, and we all stayed very involved with them.

[There was also greater co-operation amongst festivals, with Edinburgh active in helping set up a support network of independent Film Festivals, so they could help each other instead of fighting over films -- a great idea which, sadly, didn't last, but is perhaps due for revival in the modern age of thousands of competing festivals...]

So there were very clear loyalties at Edinburgh to a lot of these people. Very much the School of Corman, everyone to whom in a way Roger gave birth, Monte Hellman, Joe Viola, Jonathan, Peter Bogdanovich, Curtis Harrington. We liked the mavericks, what we didn’t like was the sort of films the liberal establishment liked at that point. So we were the first film festival to show a lot of horror, B-movies, a lot of rock and roll – we got involved with Don [D.A.] Pennebaker very early on, and obviously things like THE LAST WALTZ, etc. And Bill Forsyth, Bill Douglas…

One of my favourite memories is, I think the best Festival party we gave was the legendary party at the Commonwealth Pool, when it had just opened. Where we rashly put on the invitation, “DO NOT bring swimming costumes as you will not be allowed to enter the pool.” We had an explicit ban. And of course, at midnight, Chris Auty stripped off and jumped in, followed by about sixty people… I just remember it was a great party, I remember Nick Nolte was there, and his girlfriend of the time and his producer… we had good times.

And that’s why, in a way, I was especially happy when Mark [Cousins] was there, and Lizzie {Francke], because Mark had that sense of the playfulness and the transgressiveness, and that was kind of what we were doing, I mean most of the time it was fantastic, so most of it’s very happy memories.

Festival directors on parade: Mark Cousins, Lizzie Francke, Murray Grigor, Hannah McGill, Lynda Myles, Jim Hickey, and producer Ginnie Atkinson.

DC: So, balancing that, what were the frustrations of the job? I guess everyone has things that they wanted to do and couldn’t.

LM: Actually, very little. I got away with murder, basically [laughter]. I had a couple of things going for me – the ace up my sleeve was Colin Young. Colin, as you know, was Scots, who came back from being Dean at the film faculty at UCLA to start the National Film School. And Colin was my chair [chairman of the EIFF board] and he protected me. I find it quite upsetting, reading Matt Lloyd’s book [How the Movie Brats took over Edinburgh], which I think is terrific, to remember all those ghastly board meetings when Forsyth Hardy was trying to get me fired, because the old guard, the Griersonian documentary lot, absolutely hated what we were doing.  And there were endless battles, and Matt manfully ploughed through all the minutes of these meetings. They really tried to get me out after THE PARASITE MURDERS [AKA SHIVERS], which was Cronenberg, 1974. That was very frustrating. But Colin’s background was in ethnographic filmmaking, and I don’t think Colin was all that keen, certainly wasn’t in tune with my taste, or lack of it as many people thought, but he saw it as his role as chairman to protect me, which he did, to an extraordinary degree.

Forsyth Hardy (right) with John Grierson at the first ever Edinburgh Film Festival.

[DC: I recall reading a '50s film book by Forsyth Hardy in which he negatively reviewed REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE, saying that Natalie Wood's distress over her father's withholding of physical affection was impossible to sympathize with or even believe in. A very Scottish view.]

LM: And the other thing, which I think I’ve never had the chance to stress anywhere is, I had the most unbelievable diaspora of support. I was incredibly lucky. Obviously with Murray, Dave and I working together, and then Jim joining in ’69, I think, and Jim is theoretically my deputy, but obviously we worked very closely together. But apart from that, I had Peter Wollen, and Laura Mulvey, and I think more and more in retrospect that Peter was probably the most brilliant mind of that generation. I mean, he was just phenomenal. And then people like Paul Willemen, Phil Hardy, the late Claire Johnston, Joe Medjuck in LA, Kay Armatage in Toronto, and in London, people like Simon Field, Dave Curtis… David Meeker at the BFI, without whom the retrospectives would have been impossible. Tony Rayns…

There was a phenomenal group of people, completely engaged with what we were doing, sharing the same agenda, so obviously although I was director for the last eight years, there was endless, endless, endless discussion about what we were showing, what we were doing. Maybe that was a phenomenon of the time, because in a way the political-aesthetic agenda was much clearer at that time.

One of the areas where I was blessed was I had an incredibly brilliant, committed staff, who were Ellen Galford and Isabel Hilton, Rebecca O’Brien, now Ken Loach’s producer, Simon Perry for two years, Penny Thomson, Jane Balfour, Ginnie Atkinson and Archie Tait… I had an amazing group of people. We ran the Festival with a staff of about twelve, nobody was permanent apart from me and an assistant.

And actually, when I looked at the programmes I could see… my programmes really tail off. I mean, talking about ’77, between Murray’s period and mine, when we were very clear what we were doing, but by ’78 it had got sort of hazier. Not that the festivals weren’t fun, but they didn’t have the clarity.

[After the interview, Lynda looked again at her collection of souvenir programmes, and asked to revise what she said above. Here's why --filmmakers whose work screened in '76: Hollis Frampton, Straub/Huillet, Yvonne Rainer. In '78: Bill Douglas (MY WAY HOME), Monte Hellman, Gabor Body, Ulrike Ottinger, Jonathan Demme and a Max Ophuls retrospective. In '79: King Hu, Chantal Akerman, Demme, Straub/Huillet, Les Blank, a Nick Ray tribute, plus ALIEN, SCUM, MANHATTAN,WISE BLOOD, THE TEMPEST (Jarman), MAD MAX, THAT SINKING FEELING (Forsyth), the new Philippines cinema, a celebration of the origins of the UK documentary movement, and a second conference on feminism in cinema. If that's tailing off, we need more of it.]

DC: I guess as well the maverick stance had almost become mainstream by the late ‘70s.

LM: Yeah. What happened, partly, was that the NFT in London started taking our retrospectives, so they’d move onto London. There’s a tribute going on to the programming at the Scala. It’s fascinating, looking at all their posters. [Scala programmer and later film producer]  Stephen Woolley came to Edinburgh when he was very young, very bright, has very much the same taste… And by the late ‘70s, we’d kind of done what we wanted to do.

The other thing that’s quite weird, looking back over the ‘70s, is that there’s hardly any British cinema at all. Because that was when the pound had suddenly got very high against the dollar, and that was when the Americans pulled out. And I remember doing a programme for BBC2, on the Festival in 1979, because I had six British films: this was seen as amazing! We’d always shown some BFI Production Fund films, but ’79 we had an incredible midnight screening of ALIEN, and RADIO ON, which was very important…

The other thing I should mention as a highlight: we did the first major women’s film event in Europe, in ’72, which was a lot of fun, and BBC2 wanted to make a film about it, and very much in the spirit of the times, we said “No, give us the means, give us the cameras and the stock etc,” and we made a film, during the Festival. Which exists, somewhere.

DC: We should talk about how you became involved in it this year.

LM: I got involved because the Festival had interviewed people for the job of Artistic Director, and had failed to appoint anyone. So, in the vacuum, when it looked like nothing might happen, Mark came up with this ingenious plan of a festival which he described as being a cross between the Venice Biennale and Meltdown. And he got Tilda [Swinton] involved and they asked me to join them. And the final document, had it been possible to realise it, would have ended up in an absolutely extraordinary event.

We felt the Festival needed to be rethought, that it had got kind of a bit weary. Unfortunately, for reasons that are complex and difficult to describe, the blueprint wasn’t followed up. The blueprint would have needed certain people on the ground to deliver it. It was always clear that Tilda was going to be doing the Jarmusch film, Mark finishing his epic [The Story of Film TV series] and June is one of my busiest times in my life at the National Film School, so we were never going to be there. But for some reason, it wasn’t brought to life. So it remains this blissful, platonic ideal of an event which didn’t happen. Except tiny bits of it: I mean, it was lovely having Bela Tarr there.

DC: Matt Lloyd talked in the comments section about how, really, when you’re dealing with Mark Cousins ideas, maybe you need Mark Cousins to execute them. Was that an overall flaw in the plan? If you three couldn’t be on hand to make it happen, who on earth could be trusted to see this through?

LM: I think there might have been people who could, but it wasn’t the right combination.

DC: I think they’ve got a very good staff, but I think they were demoralized after having to reapply for their own jobs. And then I think James, coming in, didn’t really speak the same language, because his staff are cinephiles and he speaks the language of brands, and low-hanging fruit… the language is different. I don’t know if they saw him as a festival director. It wasn’t clear when I spoke to him: something I’d heard is that he was hired as producer and then became the director…

LM: My understanding was that he was hired to be the producer.

DC: And a good choice in many ways. But maybe not the right man as director for this particular event. So, is there anything you can say, or would like to say, about this year, or shall we move on?

LM: One thing that slightly cheers me up is that [laughs] history has shown that Edinburgh can rise from the ashes. When we got involved in ’68, the Festival had been absolutely appalling. One of the things we had to stop was, the films were selected by committee.

DC: Oh…

LM: When Murray had come in around ’67, he inherited this, there was a committee which watched the films every night. The Festival was attacked in the Scotsman… The thing about what happened, in a way, from ’69, was that it showed Edinburgh’s reinvented itself before. So I’m optimistic. I think in some ways, having a year that goes… awry, like this, in a way maybe it’s good.

I don’t know if I’ve even got the energy to talk about the dates. I think it’s an absolute no-brainer that the Festival should be back in August. I think the move to June was insane. Edinburgh, when it started, as you know, was the third film festival in the world. When you have 2,000 festivals out there, everything’s looking for specificity. The fact that Edinburgh is potentially part of the world’s largest arts festival seems to me a useful addition to making Edinburgh specific. Apart from the fact that no film students can go because everyone’s shooting in June. When we had the 60th anniversary and Brian DePalma came back, for the first time since I’d invited him in ’76 or whatever, Brian stayed quite a long time, going to three or four movies a day, and then going to stuff at night. I just think it’s crazy when you’ve got the fantastic Book Festival, you’ve got all the shows… it seems to me it’s a time when cinema’s more engaged, when you’ve got people like Steve McQueen [HUNGER] coming from visual arts, lots of dramatists going into cinema, I just do not understand.

And the argument about space, well my God, if Teviot [University building and 2011 delegate centre], that ghastly – and I know that place because I was an undergraduate – it felt like a student event. It just felt amateur. If that’s one of the glories of June, well, let me out.

DC: There must be other choices in June, you should theoretically have your pick…

LM: You might think so. The sad thing at the moment is, I dealt with about four directors of the Edinburgh Festival [the arts festival, as opposed to the Film Festival], and they weren’t all terribly user-friendly towards film, but the irony is that with Jonathan Mills there, you’ve probably got someone who would be very open to collaboration.

Oh what a gorgeous cat!

DC: Yes, this is Tasha.

LM: Oh WOW. Anyway, I’m sorry, I can get very boring, don’t get me started on August. I do think that there would be lots of possibilities for crossover.

The other thing is, the last time I went up in August, last year, I got a taxi at Waverley, and in two minutes in a taxi you get that unbelievable excitement. That Festival, I walked home on my own, at two in the morning, and it was fantastic. And I’m afraid you don’t get that in June. I love that sense of excitement.

DC: This is great because you’re the first Festival director I’ve spoken to who’s come out strongly for August.

LM: Here endeth the first lesson. Hardwired. I went to the Festival when I was about 17, not the Film Festival, it was the theatre, music. I absolutely love it, I think it’s unbeatable, it’s crazy not to be part of it.

DC: What else would you say for the Festival’s future?

LM: [small voice] I would move back to August – which also gives them more time. Which they’re going to need. I would make it shorter, I think two weeks is too long. I would make it ten days.

DC: I think it is ten days.

LM: Is it ten days? It feels very long.

[It’s twelve days. I think Shane Danielsen cut it to ten in the early 2000s, but it’s spread again]

LM: Ten days would be fine. I think they’ve got to get someone who really has a grasp of international cinema, someone who can talk to directors, someone who can talk to distributors, and sales agents. Again, I was very lucky, when I was there I basically dealt with directors, to some extent with distributors in London, but it was basically pre- sales agent days, and I mostly just asked directors for their movies after I’d seen them.

I think whoever’s coming in should be someone that the distributors trust, that they feel knows the business. It’s quite a hard brief because the Edinburgh Festival I love was about ideas, it’s more about ideas than anything else. But to keep the ship going, it’s got to engage with the public. What I’d hate is for it to become a local event. Local festivals are fine but there are lots of them in Britain, and Edinburgh for many years was the festival that set the agenda for everyone else. If it shrinks into being just a local event, maybe that’s OK at one level, but I think it’s a terrible waste. Because the other thing that’s very clear over what’s happened this year is, I must have had hundreds of conversations since November, and what is interesting is how people care about it. Contrary to what certain people around the Festival think, there’s a huge amount of concern about the Festival and what’s going to happen with it from people who worked there, people who have movies there, people who’ve been there.

I could conjure up a brilliant advisory committee with ten people I’ve spoken to here who would immediately become part of that to help get it back on its feet. But I think you’ve got to get someone who can talk both to directors and to the industry. It’s got to be someone with some sort of vision because it also ought to be different from London. I think Sandra [Hebron] did a brilliant job with London, but it’s a different kind of Festival. And I think Edinburgh has to be about ideas, about innovation. But it has to be the leader of the pack in terms of what’s happening in cinema.

Read more about Lynda’s revolutionary role in film critical history: How the Movie Brats Took Over Edinburgh: The Impact of Cinephilia on the Edinburgh International Film Festival, 1968-1980

Read Lynda and Michael Pye’s book: The Movie Brats: How the Film Generation Took over Hollywood

See a Lynda film: The Commitments [1991] [DVD]

From the 1978 programme:

“The following publications will be available at The Filmhouse:

Douglas Sirk                                                     £0.90p

Frank Tashlin                                                   £1.10

Jacques Tourneur                                          £1.00

Perspectives on British Avant-Garde    £1.50

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