Carlos Saura, director of Tango, nominated for best foreign language Academy Award earlier this year, refuses to accept any credit for the now-you-see-it-now-you-don't narrative conceits that set his films apart from the mainstream. Far from being post-modern (he raises his hands in mock-horror at hearing this word which needs no translation via our interpreter) such story-telling devices have marked Spanish literature and drama for hundreds of years.
"Modern writers now have recourse to these narrative techniques from a long time ago thanks to Bunuel who went back to this very ancient Spanish culture and made the link with the far past."
Like Saura's other Oscar-nominated film, Carmen, released in 1984, Tango concerns the making of a film where the action on camera is mirrored by the drama off camera. As Busby Berkeley devotees will know, this device was staple fare for 1930s Broadway and later Hollywood. Another debt that Saura is quick to acknowledge. "I always loved those movies, first when I was a boy and later as an adult film maker. Particularly 42nd Street, because it is about rehearsal and what fascinates me most about dance is not the performance but rehearsal." As a very young man he explains he was "the official photographer" of the Granada Flamenco dance company. "In performance you are not aware of the physical effort that goes into dance - or you shouldn't be. But in rehearsal it is that aspect that is so extraordinary."
Carlos Saura was born in 1932 in Aragon; his father was a lawyer and his mother a pianist and the apparently disparate themes of justice and music have combined in his work as a film-maker which is also notable for its strong visual sense. (His first film was a portrait of his painter brother.) After two years earning his living as a stills photographer, in 1953 Saura enrolled in the Madrid film school, where he went on to teach. "Francismo" was at its height and just as film-makers in Eastern Europe developed narrative techniques to camouflage the real nature of their work, so too did Saura. Even so, were it not for international festivals, he says, his films would probably never have seen the light of day, least of all in Spain. "Showing films that are banned in other countries is the only reason for festivals," he laughs, adding that he personally hates festivals. "But without Cannes and Berlin I wouldn't have been able to operate at all."
Saura's first international success was in 1966 when he won the Silver Bear in Berlin for best direction. Ostensibly a psychological thriller about a hunting party that goes wrong, The Hunt is a thinly veiled attack on the moral disintegration of Spanish society under Franco. Next came Peppermint Frappe, an exploration of sexuality in a repressive society that won him another Silver Bear. In 1974 he won the Cannes Jury prize for La Prima An- gelica, a tangential look at the civil war, then in 1976 the special jury prize at Berlin for an even more elliptical film, Cria Cuervos.
It wasn't until 1984, however, that Spain's foremost director hit the English-speaking mainstream with Carmen, which in addition to its Oscar nomination won the BAFTA best foreign language film that year.
Carmen was the second in a trilogy of dance films with a strong narrative line that began with Lorca's Blood Wedding in 1981 and ended in 1984 with De Falla's El Amor Brujo. The change of direction was a direct result of the death of Franco in 1975. "During the Franco years it was practically impossible to do anything," he explains. "The situation got better little by little, that greater freedom was part of Spain coming out of isolation and do to with its relationship with the rest of the world. It had been very closed in on itself. But Franco's death meant I could move from metaphor to more experimental films. My work has always reflected my political commitment to fight against Francismo and it is still present in all my films to one degree or another, although never directly."
Although Tango is first and foremost a celebration of dance, Saura knew the subject could not sustain "a music film without a plot" - such as Flamenco made in 1995. ("Flamenco is a rich musical world where there are far more possibilities," he explains, "But Tango is just tango.")
Currently enjoying a renaissance both in Argentina and in Europe, the tango is a hybrid born from the Creole Waltz that originated in Central Europe and the Milonga, that came to Buenos Aires with immigrants from the countryside early this century. Both are performed alongside the tango in Buenos Aires's 30 or more dancehalls devoted to it.
As for a plot, Saura says, all he did was take the lead from the tango itself. "These songs are not what you would imagine. They are almost always about the woman being abandoned and almost always about vengeance and filled with terrible insults `you're a whore, you went off with him' and there's always somebody killed."
In addition, as part of his long battle with fascism, Saura uses the film to address the issue of Argentina's "disappeared". The resulting dance sequence that portrays the torture and rape of women, although totally unrealistic, is both harrowing and deeply moving.
"At the time when people were being tortured in Argentina, I got to know many film directors, actors, doctors who had fled the regime and come to Spain, many of whom became my friends. At the same time women who had been tortured would talk about what had happened to them to small groups of people. It was all done in secret. The women were disguised for fear of reprisals, even wearing masks. And this made a great impression on me. Even though they were all completely genuine, it occurred to me that they could have been actresses."
The inherent intensity and drama, he says, was heightened by the knowledge that at any time the meeting could have been burst in on gunmen and everyone there, including him, could all have been killed.
Saura first dealt with torture in 1978, in Blindfold, starring - as indeed she did in many of his films - his long-time partner Geraldine Chaplin. Here again he used the techniques he had developed to outwit the Franco censors - playing with time, using memory, having the same actor playing more than one role, "reality and imagination and the play between things that are real and things which aren't." Chaplin plays an Argentinian actress playing a victim of torture. "She so identified with the tortured woman that it became impossible to know which was which."
Even today in Argentina, he says, "you can't get away from what happened. It was a very difficult time and is still very much unresolved." Although he won't name names, during filming of Tango a number of actors received death threats.
"There are still a lot of things that aren't known. Like what's happening now with Pinochet in Chile. You can't get away from what happened, but it's in the interests of many people not to talk about it. The difference in Argentina is that people know who did these things, but legally they can't be touched.
Tango opens at the IFC, Dublin, on July 9th
A scene from Tango: Tango is first and foremost a celebration of dance, says director Carlos. "Flamenco is a rich musical world where there are far more possibilities," he explains, "But Tango is just tango."
Carlos Saura, director of Tango, nominated for best foreign language Academy Award earlier this year, refuses to accept any credit for the now-you-see-it-now-you-don't narrative conceits that set his films apart from the mainstream. Far from being post-modern (he raises his hands in mock-horror at hearing this word which needs no translation via our interpreter) such story telling devices have marked Spanish literature and drama for hundreds of years.
Modern writers now have recourse to these narrative techniques from a long time ago thanks to Bunuel who went back to this very ancient Spanish culture and made the link with the far past."
Like Saura's other Oscar-nominated film, Carmen, released in 1984, Tango concerns the making of a film where the action on camera is mirrored by the drama off camera. As Busby Berkeley devotees will know, this device was staple fare for 1930s Broadway and later Hollywood. Another debt that Saura is quick to acknowledge.
"I always loved those movies, first when I was a boy and later as an adult film maker. Particularly 42nd Street, because it is about rehearsal and what fascinates me most about dance is not the performance but rehearsal." As a very young man he explains he was "the official photographer" of the Granada Flamenco dance company. "In performance you are not aware of the physical effort that goes into dance - or you shouldn't be. But in rehearsal it is that aspect that is so extraordinary."
Carlos Saura was born in 1932 in Aragon; his father was a lawyer and his mother a pianist and the apparently disparate themes of justice and music have combined in his work as a film maker which is also notable for its strong visual sense. (His first film was a portrait of his painter brother.) After two years earning his living as a stills photographer, in 1953 Saura enrolled in the Madrid film school, where he went on to teach. "Francismo" was at its height and just as film makers in Eastern Europe developed narrative techniques to camouflage the real nature of their work, so too did Saura. Even so, were it not for international festivals, he says, his films would probably never have seen the light of day, least of all in Spain. "Showing films that are banned in other countries is the only reason for festivals," he laughs adding that he personally hates festivals. "But without Cannes and Berlin I wouldn't have been able to operate at all."
Saura's first international success was in 1966 when he won the Silver Bear in Berlin for best direction Ostensibly a psychological thriller about a hunting party that goes wrong, The Hunt is a thinly veiled attack on the moral disintegration of Spanish society under Franco. Next came Peppermint Frappe, an exploration of sexuality in a repressive society that won him another Silver Bear.
In 1974 he won the Cannes Jury prize for La Prima Angelica, a tangential look at the civil war. Then in 1976 the special jury prize at Berlin for an even more elliptical film, Cria Cuervos.
It wasn't until 1984, however, that Spain's foremost director hit the English-speaking mainstream with Carmen, which in addition to its Oscar nomination won the BAFTA best foreign language film that year.
Carmen was the second in a trilogy of dance films with a strong narrative line that began with Lorca's Blood Wedding in 1981 and ended in 1984 with De Falla's El Amor Brujo. The change of direction was a direct result of the death of Franco in 1975. "During the Franco years it was practically impossible to do anything," he explains.
"The situation got better little by little, that greater freedom was part of Spain coming out of isolation and do to with its relationship with the rest of the world. It had been very closed in on itself. But Franco's death meant I could move from metaphor to more experimental films. My work has always reflected my political commitment to fight against Francismo and it is still present in all my films to one degree or another, although never directly."
Although Tango is first and foremost a celebration of dance, Saura knew the subject could not sustain "a music film without a plot" - such as Flamenco made in 1995. ("Flamenco is a rich musical world where there are far more possibilities," he explains, "But tango is just tango.")
Currently enjoying a renaissance both in Argentina and in Europe, the tango is a hybrid born from the Creole Waltz that originated in Central Europe and the Milonga, that came to Buenos Aires with immigrants from the countryside early this century. Both are performed alongside the tango in Buenos Aires' thirty or more dance-halls devoted to it.
As for a plot, Saura says, all he did was take the lead from the tango itself. "These songs are not what you would imagine. They are almost always about the woman being abandoned and almost always about vengeance and filled with terrible insults 'you're a whore, you went off with him' and there's always somebody killed. In addition, as part of his long battle with fascism, Saura uses the film to address the issue of Argentina's "disappeared". The resulting dance sequence that portrays the torture and rape of women, that although totally unrealistic, is both harrowing and deeply moving.
"At the time when people were being tortured in Argentina, I got to know many film directors, actors, doctors who had fled the regime and come to Spain, many of whom became my friends. At the same time women who had been tortured would talk about what had happened to them to small groups of people. It was all done in secret. The women were disguised for fear of reprisals, even wearing masks. And this made a great impression on me. Even though they were all completely genuine, it occurred to me that they could have been actresses." The inherent intensity and drama he says was heightened by the knowledge that at any time the meeting could have been burst in on gunmen and everyone there, including him, could all have been killed.
Saura first dealt with torture in 1978, in Blindfold, starring - as indeed she did in many of his films - his long-time partner Geraldine Chaplin. Here again he used the techniques he had developed to outwit the Franco censors: playing with time, using memory, having the same actor playing more than one role, "reality and imagination and the play between things that are real and things which aren't." Chaplin plays an Argentinean actress playing a victim of torture. "She so identified with the tortured woman that it became impossible to know which was which."
Even today in Argentina, he says, "you can't get away from what happened. It was a very difficult time and is still very much unresolved." Although he won't name names, during filming of Tango a number of actors received death threats.
"There are still a lot of things that aren't known. Like what's happening now with Pinochet in Chile. You can't get away from what happened, but it's in the interests of many people not to talk about it. The difference in Argentina is that people know who did these things, but legally they can't be touched."