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Interview war in vienna.pdf
WAR IN VIENNA
A film by Michael Glawogger about the news, life, love, and death
SYNOPSIS:
A blond boy in front of his video screen:
“The bad guys are the robots and the good guys are the humans.” Cut. A fat man standing behind a counter, in his hands a net with a writhing fish: “My name is Gregori, I was born in Vienna, I’m a butcher by trade and now I sell fish.” Cut. A block of news: barely recognizable, two victims of the ship disaster off the coast of the Philippines, at the bottom, a text insert: “Tragedia en el mar.” Cut. Horst Friedrich Mayer in the newsroom: “The sole objective of TV news is to inform as quickly, precisely, exactly, and objectively as a public-law station can about national and international current events.” From “as objectively as” on, we continue to hear H. F. Mayer's voice, but the images on screen are of a man in profile with binoculars, then a series of different news intro themes from all over the world fading in and out in rapid succession. Text insert: “Television hardly shows anything but harmless images.” Cut. American anchorman: “This is no fun and games, this is it.” Cut.
INTERVIEW:
An interview with Michael Glawogger and Ulrich Seidl by Edmund Steirer,
from the journal “Blimp,” issue 13, fall 1989
STEIRER: After a series of short films “War in Vienna” is your first “long film” and one that is also bound to reach a wider audience. According to my information, you developed the screenplay together with Ulrich Seidl, who also collaborated in directing the film.
GLAWOGGER: For this film there is no screenplay per se. “War in Vienna” started with a concept and a basic idea, and everything that seems like a screenplay is in fact a series of decisions made at the editing table. You could say that what developed out of a large overall concept were details, which are what give the film its true character. The concept as the point of departure existed from the beginning in written form and everyone involved was familiar with it. The details that make the film what it is, and this is important to me because I see it as a work consisting of lots of small details, are the individual, to some extent independently arising contributions made by all the people working on it. One could say that this film functions like an open mosaic, a mosaic without edges. That means every little unit used is a piece that contributes to building the film, and everyone can continue to expand it. In other words, the editing work doesn’t end with the completion of the film. That’s why I like to call it an open mosaic.
STEIRER: Of course, behind this open mosaic may also lie a fear of drawing lines, of taking a stand.
GLAWOGGER: No, it's more the basic world view underlying the film, the view that we basically have no world view. You could say this is my current philosophy of life, to me there is no world view that can be put into words; instead, it is made up of countless little things, which in turn can be approached from countless perspectives. There is no statement that one could make about the world without saying something wrong. When I was 21, I would have made a much clearer film about news than today, although you could see it the other way around. My first concept for the film was the idea of a snapshot of the theme: what is the world – on television, in the living room, and everywhere out there?
SEIDL: I suppose one could summarize the development of the project by saying it was Michael’s idea to make the movie, and that after reading the concept I was interested in taking on part of the work. We agreed on a division of labor that allowed us to continue to discuss our objectives, but didn’t let this influence the work on our own contributions in a concrete way. That means he knew what I was doing and vice versa, but the two parts developed completely independently of each other. In this sense, it was a bold attempt at collaboration in which we had no idea whether the individual pieces could be assembled into either a thematic or formal whole until we got to the editing table. For me it was also the chance to shoot everyday images without the pressure of thinking about a larger frame of reference, since we were even prepared for the case that the film might result in nothing at all.
GLAWOGGER: That was the challenge, to edit the images of everyday life with those of the news and see if this would give them a new quality both in content and form. Whether something ordinary could give rise to something special, something worth reporting about, whether and how everyday life could turn into war, whether in this way this war that you could see but not film would become visible. It is, in effect, a typical montage film in which hardly any of the sequences or images actually mean what they represent because they are presented without their original context but in connection with other images, and in the course of the film this produces a kind of domino effect with an ever increasing number of cross-references. This is something I have inferred from the numerous different reactions to the film. Viewers make more connections than I myself see or am aware of. Sometimes that’s a positive thing, sometimes it’s not.
STEIRER: Getting back to the division of labor, who was responsible for what?
GLAWOGGER: Ulrich mainly shot the everyday observations and most of the statements, and I filmed the story with the two women and the news sequences. As far as shooting went, that’s how we split it up, but in the editing room each of us also worked on the other person’s parts.
SEIDL: The actual collaboration took place at the editing table, and as mentioned before, the material used was shot independently. If one were to examine the film from this perspective, one might recognize different angles, camera work, etc. the different stylistic principles. And if you compare the amount of information, nothing happens in the everyday sequences as opposed to in the news; at first glance all the quiet camera work does is maybe force the viewer to look closer and pay attention to details.
STEIRER: If we look at how the film was edited, it’s hard to tell if you are the foreign element in Ulrich’s story or if Ulrich is the foreign element in your story.
GLAWOGGER: I don’t think you can see it that way. Especially with a film like this, one person’s thoughts and observations are not enough. Once you decide to collect different perceptions, you want to record as many as possible, and that’s something you could hold against this film, that it is in this sense overloaded and chaotic, but basically this is also a quality we were looking for. That is why when you speak of the foreign element in the other person’s film or want to call it that, this is something I would call positive. I think foreign thoughts in one’s own film are very important because far too often films are too linear and not ramified enough in their way of thinking to make them really interesting and encourage the viewers themselves to think. For example, there are shots in this film that can be clearly classified as Ulrich’s part, but which I shot for him, knowing that that was what he would have filmed at that point. In the same way, there are also scenes he shot for me when I didn’t have time.
STEIRER: That means not only an acceptance of the work of the other without being of the same opinion but also a process of putting oneself in the other person’s shoes and trying to understand his way of working.
GLAWOGGER: Yes, but we were able to argue too, which in turn produced very clear boundaries. But even if that hadn’t been the case, I had still very clearly stated in the concept that I wanted a break in the film whenever you started to feel comfortable. That was actually the hard part about editing, to constantly insert breaks and yet still give the film some kind of overall continuity. It was as if you were constantly tearing down the little houses you had built and at the same time you had to make sure that a house was left standing.
STEIRER: You mention that you fought with each other too, I’d like to know whether you used specific “fighting techniques” to assert your ideas and if so, which ones?
GLAWOGGER: I’d say it’s obvious just by looking.
SEIDL: For example, we had a big falling out over the different tempi in the middle of the rough cut when we tried to edit my minimalist, slow scenes with Michael’s fast, almost in-your-face sequences. Whereas speed was always the main thing for Michael, I kept wanting to step on the brakes because I believe that you can achieve more with slow, introspective scenes that give you the opportunity to reflect.
GLAWOGGER: There are basically two different underlying methods, both familiar. What becomes complicated is when you try to bring both techniques out in one film. When, for example, the viewer is just getting used to one and then is suddenly confronted with the other, whereby in the case of the fast-paced parts the intention was to fight fire with fire. An anchorman doesn’t even have half an hour to convey much more information than what is actually possible in this time span. American newscasters can speak so quickly that they provide more information than anyone in any other country because that’s their job and that’s the only way it will work. For me it was important to reify this flood of information and flood of images that exists in the world and in every living room, which meant the film had to be flooded with impressions in much the same way, and even though War in Vienna is 90 minutes long, it was a constant race against time and a battle against the tranquil introspection of Ulrich’s images, which, of course, the film needs too because otherwise you wouldn’t notice the other extreme.
STEIRER: Then War in Vienna could be regarded as a symbiosis of two different strategies for trying to understand this thing that we call world. On the one hand, the attempt to do justice to the flood of information through a breathless race and on the other hand through standing still, through performing an act of refusal.
GLAWOGGER: Yes, in a way a consensus that neither of the two works in the current state of affairs. The way I see it is that this standing still and pause has long since become established in films and has already come to satisfy certain expectations, while to some extent there is the danger with my method that it could become what it was meant to challenge. In this sense, both methods entail risks that one might be able to avoid by pushing the two together.
STEIRER: What actually motivated you to make this movie?
GLAWOGGER: What motivated me to make this movie – and to make it in this way might be described in this way – that I always felt the need to create simultaneities. For example, when I look down at a city, it makes me shiver to think of all the things that are happening in that city at the same time because I think it says a lot about the world, and that gets my imagination going. So the movies I would like to make that are tied to the feeling of “what takes place in a city in a single minute” are like mosaics. And that can be a theme as much as a story can be a theme. I have nothing against the narrative film, I think great storytellers are extremely important. It is wonderful to tell a beautiful story, and it would be idiotic to claim the narrative film has become obsolete. My special focus or what I like to play around and experiment with is with this production of simultaneities.
STEIRER: Does this desire to create simultaneities necessarily imply the loss of identity?
GLAWOGGER: People who are their own point of rest and center of the world seem boring to me. In this sense I am totally European, I do not believe in one’s own calm center or in the identity that resolves everything or makes a person interesting.
STEIRER: Ulrich, as the viewer, when I think of the scenes you shot where you ask people to describe their living rooms, the result is capable of evoking the entire spectrum of real sympathy to the most bitter cynicism. Where, between these two poles, would you position your actual intentions?
SEIDL: It’s very difficult to verbalize an answer. I think the images speak for themselves and my first expectation is that I touch the viewer in some way. Whether he or she perceives it as funny, sad, melancholic, cynical, or whatever else – that’s up to the viewer. It’s a fine line and I don’t think I can give a satisfactory answer.
STEIRER: Last but not least, do you think there were other more important topics we should have addressed in this interview?
GLAWOGGER: I’ll put it this way, I’m glad that this film apparently didn’t automatically lead us to the topic of the conditions of film production in Austria.
© M.Glawogger © Ulrich Seidl
DOWNLOAD INTERVIEWS:
Interview war in vienna.pdf
WAR IN VIENNA
A film by Michael Glawogger about the news, life, love, and death
SYNOPSIS:
A blond boy in front of his video screen:
“The bad guys are the robots and the good guys are the humans.” Cut. A fat man standing behind a counter, in his hands a net with a writhing fish: “My name is Gregori, I was born in Vienna, I’m a butcher by trade and now I sell fish.” Cut. A block of news: barely recognizable, two victims of the ship disaster off the coast of the Philippines, at the bottom, a text insert: “Tragedia en el mar.” Cut. Horst Friedrich Mayer in the newsroom: “The sole objective of TV news is to inform as quickly, precisely, exactly, and objectively as a public-law station can about national and international current events.” From “as objectively as” on, we continue to hear H. F. Mayer's voice, but the images on screen are of a man in profile with binoculars, then a series of different news intro themes from all over the world fading in and out in rapid succession. Text insert: “Television hardly shows anything but harmless images.” Cut. American anchorman: “This is no fun and games, this is it.” Cut.
INTERVIEW:
An interview with Michael Glawogger and Ulrich Seidl by Edmund Steirer,
from the journal “Blimp,” issue 13, fall 1989
STEIRER: After a series of short films “War in Vienna” is your first “long film” and one that is also bound to reach a wider audience. According to my information, you developed the screenplay together with Ulrich Seidl, who also collaborated in directing the film.
GLAWOGGER: For this film there is no screenplay per se. “War in Vienna” started with a concept and a basic idea, and everything that seems like a screenplay is in fact a series of decisions made at the editing table. You could say that what developed out of a large overall concept were details, which are what give the film its true character. The concept as the point of departure existed from the beginning in written form and everyone involved was familiar with it. The details that make the film what it is, and this is important to me because I see it as a work consisting of lots of small details, are the individual, to some extent independently arising contributions made by all the people working on it. One could say that this film functions like an open mosaic, a mosaic without edges. That means every little unit used is a piece that contributes to building the film, and everyone can continue to expand it. In other words, the editing work doesn’t end with the completion of the film. That’s why I like to call it an open mosaic.
STEIRER: Of course, behind this open mosaic may also lie a fear of drawing lines, of taking a stand.
GLAWOGGER: No, it's more the basic world view underlying the film, the view that we basically have no world view. You could say this is my current philosophy of life, to me there is no world view that can be put into words; instead, it is made up of countless little things, which in turn can be approached from countless perspectives. There is no statement that one could make about the world without saying something wrong. When I was 21, I would have made a much clearer film about news than today, although you could see it the other way around. My first concept for the film was the idea of a snapshot of the theme: what is the world – on television, in the living room, and everywhere out there?
SEIDL: I suppose one could summarize the development of the project by saying it was Michael’s idea to make the movie, and that after reading the concept I was interested in taking on part of the work. We agreed on a division of labor that allowed us to continue to discuss our objectives, but didn’t let this influence the work on our own contributions in a concrete way. That means he knew what I was doing and vice versa, but the two parts developed completely independently of each other. In this sense, it was a bold attempt at collaboration in which we had no idea whether the individual pieces could be assembled into either a thematic or formal whole until we got to the editing table. For me it was also the chance to shoot everyday images without the pressure of thinking about a larger frame of reference, since we were even prepared for the case that the film might result in nothing at all.
GLAWOGGER: That was the challenge, to edit the images of everyday life with those of the news and see if this would give them a new quality both in content and form. Whether something ordinary could give rise to something special, something worth reporting about, whether and how everyday life could turn into war, whether in this way this war that you could see but not film would become visible. It is, in effect, a typical montage film in which hardly any of the sequences or images actually mean what they represent because they are presented without their original context but in connection with other images, and in the course of the film this produces a kind of domino effect with an ever increasing number of cross-references. This is something I have inferred from the numerous different reactions to the film. Viewers make more connections than I myself see or am aware of. Sometimes that’s a positive thing, sometimes it’s not.
STEIRER: Getting back to the division of labor, who was responsible for what?
GLAWOGGER: Ulrich mainly shot the everyday observations and most of the statements, and I filmed the story with the two women and the news sequences. As far as shooting went, that’s how we split it up, but in the editing room each of us also worked on the other person’s parts.
SEIDL: The actual collaboration took place at the editing table, and as mentioned before, the material used was shot independently. If one were to examine the film from this perspective, one might recognize different angles, camera work, etc. the different stylistic principles. And if you compare the amount of information, nothing happens in the everyday sequences as opposed to in the news; at first glance all the quiet camera work does is maybe force the viewer to look closer and pay attention to details.
STEIRER: If we look at how the film was edited, it’s hard to tell if you are the foreign element in Ulrich’s story or if Ulrich is the foreign element in your story.
GLAWOGGER: I don’t think you can see it that way. Especially with a film like this, one person’s thoughts and observations are not enough. Once you decide to collect different perceptions, you want to record as many as possible, and that’s something you could hold against this film, that it is in this sense overloaded and chaotic, but basically this is also a quality we were looking for. That is why when you speak of the foreign element in the other person’s film or want to call it that, this is something I would call positive. I think foreign thoughts in one’s own film are very important because far too often films are too linear and not ramified enough in their way of thinking to make them really interesting and encourage the viewers themselves to think. For example, there are shots in this film that can be clearly classified as Ulrich’s part, but which I shot for him, knowing that that was what he would have filmed at that point. In the same way, there are also scenes he shot for me when I didn’t have time.
STEIRER: That means not only an acceptance of the work of the other without being of the same opinion but also a process of putting oneself in the other person’s shoes and trying to understand his way of working.
GLAWOGGER: Yes, but we were able to argue too, which in turn produced very clear boundaries. But even if that hadn’t been the case, I had still very clearly stated in the concept that I wanted a break in the film whenever you started to feel comfortable. That was actually the hard part about editing, to constantly insert breaks and yet still give the film some kind of overall continuity. It was as if you were constantly tearing down the little houses you had built and at the same time you had to make sure that a house was left standing.
STEIRER: You mention that you fought with each other too, I’d like to know whether you used specific “fighting techniques” to assert your ideas and if so, which ones?
GLAWOGGER: I’d say it’s obvious just by looking.
SEIDL: For example, we had a big falling out over the different tempi in the middle of the rough cut when we tried to edit my minimalist, slow scenes with Michael’s fast, almost in-your-face sequences. Whereas speed was always the main thing for Michael, I kept wanting to step on the brakes because I believe that you can achieve more with slow, introspective scenes that give you the opportunity to reflect.
GLAWOGGER: There are basically two different underlying methods, both familiar. What becomes complicated is when you try to bring both techniques out in one film. When, for example, the viewer is just getting used to one and then is suddenly confronted with the other, whereby in the case of the fast-paced parts the intention was to fight fire with fire. An anchorman doesn’t even have half an hour to convey much more information than what is actually possible in this time span. American newscasters can speak so quickly that they provide more information than anyone in any other country because that’s their job and that’s the only way it will work. For me it was important to reify this flood of information and flood of images that exists in the world and in every living room, which meant the film had to be flooded with impressions in much the same way, and even though War in Vienna is 90 minutes long, it was a constant race against time and a battle against the tranquil introspection of Ulrich’s images, which, of course, the film needs too because otherwise you wouldn’t notice the other extreme.
STEIRER: Then War in Vienna could be regarded as a symbiosis of two different strategies for trying to understand this thing that we call world. On the one hand, the attempt to do justice to the flood of information through a breathless race and on the other hand through standing still, through performing an act of refusal.
GLAWOGGER: Yes, in a way a consensus that neither of the two works in the current state of affairs. The way I see it is that this standing still and pause has long since become established in films and has already come to satisfy certain expectations, while to some extent there is the danger with my method that it could become what it was meant to challenge. In this sense, both methods entail risks that one might be able to avoid by pushing the two together.
STEIRER: What actually motivated you to make this movie?
GLAWOGGER: What motivated me to make this movie – and to make it in this way might be described in this way – that I always felt the need to create simultaneities. For example, when I look down at a city, it makes me shiver to think of all the things that are happening in that city at the same time because I think it says a lot about the world, and that gets my imagination going. So the movies I would like to make that are tied to the feeling of “what takes place in a city in a single minute” are like mosaics. And that can be a theme as much as a story can be a theme. I have nothing against the narrative film, I think great storytellers are extremely important. It is wonderful to tell a beautiful story, and it would be idiotic to claim the narrative film has become obsolete. My special focus or what I like to play around and experiment with is with this production of simultaneities.
STEIRER: Does this desire to create simultaneities necessarily imply the loss of identity?
GLAWOGGER: People who are their own point of rest and center of the world seem boring to me. In this sense I am totally European, I do not believe in one’s own calm center or in the identity that resolves everything or makes a person interesting.
STEIRER: Ulrich, as the viewer, when I think of the scenes you shot where you ask people to describe their living rooms, the result is capable of evoking the entire spectrum of real sympathy to the most bitter cynicism. Where, between these two poles, would you position your actual intentions?
SEIDL: It’s very difficult to verbalize an answer. I think the images speak for themselves and my first expectation is that I touch the viewer in some way. Whether he or she perceives it as funny, sad, melancholic, cynical, or whatever else – that’s up to the viewer. It’s a fine line and I don’t think I can give a satisfactory answer.
STEIRER: Last but not least, do you think there were other more important topics we should have addressed in this interview?
GLAWOGGER: I’ll put it this way, I’m glad that this film apparently didn’t automatically lead us to the topic of the conditions of film production in Austria.