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Eurasianet Organization
Aug 20 2004
GEORGIAN FILM: STILL WAITING FOR A COMEBACK
Elizabeth Owen: 8/20/04
Two years ago, hopes ran high that Georgia's once-celebrated film
industry was finally on the cusp of a comeback. Now, with little sign
of an economic upturn in sight, filmmakers tend to be pessimistic
about the future. Many are hoping the beleaguered and distracted
Georgian government will come to the rescue. A few, however, say
hopes for a revival will depend on filmmakers' own ability to adapt
to the times, paying attention not only to cinematic style, but also
to managing costs and marketing.
"In 10 years, everything has been destroyed," filmmaker Nana
Janelidze, a scriptwriter for the 1987 glasnost sensation
"Repentance," said in a phone interview from Tbilisi. "To develop
again, it will take years and years. We need money and the desire,
and no one's interested in that."
Younger, more market-oriented directors blame that failure on an
inability to realize that filmmaking depends as much on business
savvy as artistic acumen. Other filmmakers, who gained acclaim during
the Soviet era, still look to the government to pick up the slack,
arguing that just like Georgian tourism or wine -- the state has a
responsibility to promote a national industry.
"There's a Georgian saying: 'Show me a problem, and I'll show you how
to run,'" said Giorgi Dolidze, dean of the Georgian State Institute
of Theater and Film, about the ongoing debate.
In 2002, it was all supposed to turn out differently. Under a 2000
law, parliament allocated 500,000 lari (about $250,000) for creation
of a National Film Center, associated with the Ministry of Culture,
to fund promising film projects. An additional 80,000 lari, or
$40,000, was set aside for a competition for young filmmakers.
At the time, the news was heralded as a sign that the stagnation
which had handicapped Georgian filmmaking since the collapse of the
Soviet Union was at an end. But, as corruption and tax arrears ate
into the state budget, film financing slowed to a trickle. In an
interview in April, National Film Center Director Zaza Urachavadze
said that he was still waiting for the state to hand over funds for
the previous year.
"[President Mikheil] Saakaskhvili said that he would increase the
amount, but we havenıt seen any of it," said Urachavadze.
The 2004 budget of $450,000 is meant to support five documentaries,
five feature films and five shorts, but Urachavadze conceded that the
funds will only allow the center to help low-budget films. The total
allotted to each director is expected to defray less than 6 percent
of their estimated costs. They will be on their own to come up with
the remainder of financing for film projects.
To find the funds to keep their projects alive, directors rely on
family and friends, contest award money, or, for better known
Georgian filmmakers, co-production deals with foreign film companies.
It is a hand-to-mouth existence that some film professionals blame on
the past, when Georgia Film, a powerhouse for Soviet filmmaking,
freely funded projects without considering costs or, sometimes, even
reading a script. Exploring new forms of cinematic technique was the
focus, not the mechanics of bringing a film to market.
"The problem is that filmmaking is not a pure art. It's an industry,"
noted Rusudan Pirveli, whose short film "Neighbors" won the 2001
Grand Prix at the Locarno Video Art Festival. "The film industry
should be revived with the help of economists and lawyers, not just
filmmakers."
Sitting in an editing suite darkened by one of Tbilisiıs temporary
blackouts, Irakli Metreveli, a partner in the privately run Griffon
Film Studios, agreed. He cited the Czech Republic as the model for
Georgia's film revival. In 2003, Prague's film studios earned an
estimated $300 million from American and European companies, which
were attracted to the country as a low-cost, market-friendly filming
location, according to the entertainment industry journal Variety.
"We have a strong filmmaking tradition, beautiful locations and it's
possible to make films all year long," Metreveli said. "The only
problem is that Georgia is a small point on the big map of the world.
Nobody knows that there exists such a country as Georgia."
To learn how to make that mark, filmmakers are focusing on a
$1.2-million film training program for Georgia, Armenia and
Azerbaijan sponsored by the Swiss Agency for Development and
Cooperation (SDC). In a bid to encourage what SDC spokesperson Thomas
Jenatsch terms "a culture of debate within the emerging civil
society," the AVANTI program this spring allocated $420,000 in
funding for six short films, three documentaries and six feature
films proposed by Caucasian filmmakers. The agency also plans to set
aside roughly $500,000 for a regional film center.
Meanwhile, as film contracts dry up, television has become the
profession of choice. Imedi A Holding, owner of one of the countryıs
largest private television channels, now runs Georgia Film. But while
television films and series may provide work opportunities, some
filmmakers worry that the emphasis on "low quality" television
undermines the tradition of Georgian cinematography.
"That quality that Georgian films had, that lightness, that humor,
will be lost," said Janelidze, who saw work on a television film
project she was overseeing grind to a halt when the sponsoring
station shut down earlier this year. "There's a whole generation of
people who do not know Georgian film. ... This is a matter for the
state to resolve."
Looking to the government to take the initiative after the false
starts of the past may seem an unlikely scenario, but filmmakers who
rose to prominence in Georgian cinema's cash-rich Soviet days
maintain that no other option exists.
"It's not like Hollywood, where if one studio closes no one notices,"
said Rezo Chkeidze, the longtime general manager of Georgia Film, and
a veteran industry player whose own distribution of state funds for
studio film projects has been the subject of some controversy. "We're
a small country. The arts have always been at the center of our
identity, and for us to survive they must continue."
Still, even in an industry that has seen many of its finest directors
leave Georgia in search of work in France, Germany or Russia,
optimism dies hard. With an enrollment "boom" underway at the
countryıs film school -- 131 new students are expected for the
2004-2005 academic year -- a state-sponsored turnaround is just a
matter of time, stressed Dolidze.
"Right now, the new government is very focused on restoring Georgia's
territorial integrity. But once that integrity is restored, without a
doubt, in the near future we expect big changes," Dolidze said. [For
background see the Eurasia Insight archive]
Others are not holding their breath.
"At a funeral not long after the collapse of the Soviet Union, I saw
a well-known film director and asked him what he was working on. He
just said 'I'm waiting,'"Chkeidze recalled. "More than a decade has
gone by, and still, we're all waiting."
Editor's Note: Elizabeth Owen is a freelance writer specializing in
political issues in the Caucasus.
From: Baghdasarian
Aug 20 2004
GEORGIAN FILM: STILL WAITING FOR A COMEBACK
Elizabeth Owen: 8/20/04
Two years ago, hopes ran high that Georgia's once-celebrated film
industry was finally on the cusp of a comeback. Now, with little sign
of an economic upturn in sight, filmmakers tend to be pessimistic
about the future. Many are hoping the beleaguered and distracted
Georgian government will come to the rescue. A few, however, say
hopes for a revival will depend on filmmakers' own ability to adapt
to the times, paying attention not only to cinematic style, but also
to managing costs and marketing.
"In 10 years, everything has been destroyed," filmmaker Nana
Janelidze, a scriptwriter for the 1987 glasnost sensation
"Repentance," said in a phone interview from Tbilisi. "To develop
again, it will take years and years. We need money and the desire,
and no one's interested in that."
Younger, more market-oriented directors blame that failure on an
inability to realize that filmmaking depends as much on business
savvy as artistic acumen. Other filmmakers, who gained acclaim during
the Soviet era, still look to the government to pick up the slack,
arguing that just like Georgian tourism or wine -- the state has a
responsibility to promote a national industry.
"There's a Georgian saying: 'Show me a problem, and I'll show you how
to run,'" said Giorgi Dolidze, dean of the Georgian State Institute
of Theater and Film, about the ongoing debate.
In 2002, it was all supposed to turn out differently. Under a 2000
law, parliament allocated 500,000 lari (about $250,000) for creation
of a National Film Center, associated with the Ministry of Culture,
to fund promising film projects. An additional 80,000 lari, or
$40,000, was set aside for a competition for young filmmakers.
At the time, the news was heralded as a sign that the stagnation
which had handicapped Georgian filmmaking since the collapse of the
Soviet Union was at an end. But, as corruption and tax arrears ate
into the state budget, film financing slowed to a trickle. In an
interview in April, National Film Center Director Zaza Urachavadze
said that he was still waiting for the state to hand over funds for
the previous year.
"[President Mikheil] Saakaskhvili said that he would increase the
amount, but we havenıt seen any of it," said Urachavadze.
The 2004 budget of $450,000 is meant to support five documentaries,
five feature films and five shorts, but Urachavadze conceded that the
funds will only allow the center to help low-budget films. The total
allotted to each director is expected to defray less than 6 percent
of their estimated costs. They will be on their own to come up with
the remainder of financing for film projects.
To find the funds to keep their projects alive, directors rely on
family and friends, contest award money, or, for better known
Georgian filmmakers, co-production deals with foreign film companies.
It is a hand-to-mouth existence that some film professionals blame on
the past, when Georgia Film, a powerhouse for Soviet filmmaking,
freely funded projects without considering costs or, sometimes, even
reading a script. Exploring new forms of cinematic technique was the
focus, not the mechanics of bringing a film to market.
"The problem is that filmmaking is not a pure art. It's an industry,"
noted Rusudan Pirveli, whose short film "Neighbors" won the 2001
Grand Prix at the Locarno Video Art Festival. "The film industry
should be revived with the help of economists and lawyers, not just
filmmakers."
Sitting in an editing suite darkened by one of Tbilisiıs temporary
blackouts, Irakli Metreveli, a partner in the privately run Griffon
Film Studios, agreed. He cited the Czech Republic as the model for
Georgia's film revival. In 2003, Prague's film studios earned an
estimated $300 million from American and European companies, which
were attracted to the country as a low-cost, market-friendly filming
location, according to the entertainment industry journal Variety.
"We have a strong filmmaking tradition, beautiful locations and it's
possible to make films all year long," Metreveli said. "The only
problem is that Georgia is a small point on the big map of the world.
Nobody knows that there exists such a country as Georgia."
To learn how to make that mark, filmmakers are focusing on a
$1.2-million film training program for Georgia, Armenia and
Azerbaijan sponsored by the Swiss Agency for Development and
Cooperation (SDC). In a bid to encourage what SDC spokesperson Thomas
Jenatsch terms "a culture of debate within the emerging civil
society," the AVANTI program this spring allocated $420,000 in
funding for six short films, three documentaries and six feature
films proposed by Caucasian filmmakers. The agency also plans to set
aside roughly $500,000 for a regional film center.
Meanwhile, as film contracts dry up, television has become the
profession of choice. Imedi A Holding, owner of one of the countryıs
largest private television channels, now runs Georgia Film. But while
television films and series may provide work opportunities, some
filmmakers worry that the emphasis on "low quality" television
undermines the tradition of Georgian cinematography.
"That quality that Georgian films had, that lightness, that humor,
will be lost," said Janelidze, who saw work on a television film
project she was overseeing grind to a halt when the sponsoring
station shut down earlier this year. "There's a whole generation of
people who do not know Georgian film. ... This is a matter for the
state to resolve."
Looking to the government to take the initiative after the false
starts of the past may seem an unlikely scenario, but filmmakers who
rose to prominence in Georgian cinema's cash-rich Soviet days
maintain that no other option exists.
"It's not like Hollywood, where if one studio closes no one notices,"
said Rezo Chkeidze, the longtime general manager of Georgia Film, and
a veteran industry player whose own distribution of state funds for
studio film projects has been the subject of some controversy. "We're
a small country. The arts have always been at the center of our
identity, and for us to survive they must continue."
Still, even in an industry that has seen many of its finest directors
leave Georgia in search of work in France, Germany or Russia,
optimism dies hard. With an enrollment "boom" underway at the
countryıs film school -- 131 new students are expected for the
2004-2005 academic year -- a state-sponsored turnaround is just a
matter of time, stressed Dolidze.
"Right now, the new government is very focused on restoring Georgia's
territorial integrity. But once that integrity is restored, without a
doubt, in the near future we expect big changes," Dolidze said. [For
background see the Eurasia Insight archive]
Others are not holding their breath.
"At a funeral not long after the collapse of the Soviet Union, I saw
a well-known film director and asked him what he was working on. He
just said 'I'm waiting,'"Chkeidze recalled. "More than a decade has
gone by, and still, we're all waiting."
Editor's Note: Elizabeth Owen is a freelance writer specializing in
political issues in the Caucasus.
From: Baghdasarian