Some of these, especially the ones in English, are my own which I bought back in the UK on my various visits home when I first came out here – a sort of reminder or contact with home.  Others we have bought here.   Most of these, of course, are in Russian – but, by no means all of them.  For a time it was possible to buy video cassettes in English, presumably stocked by the shops with either the ex-pat market in mind, or else students learning English and eager for materials to help them – these cassettes are usually the ones with subtitles in either English or Russian.  (There used to be a small market in English language books – often abridged or with simple notes – published in Moscow and targeted at the same clientele).

The idea of putting the videos up in the guesthouse was quite simple. I remember being in hotels in various places around the world and wondering how to fill the long evening hours after the evening meal.   Of course it is nice to go out for a meal, or for a walk afterwards, but that’s not always possible.  There are cafés and restaurants in Naryn, but not that many, and not all of them are in easy walking distance from the guesthouse.   Of course, it is possible to go out for a walk, but there are a limited number of options for this, especially during the short cold nights from autumn, through winter into spring.

What is more, although it is true that most of our guests throughout the year stay for just the one night, others are there for a lot longer. It may well be that most of these have people to see, work to do, or books to read, to help them occupy their time.  Even, so the long evenings can sometimes be hard to fill.

So, we provided a number of board games, playing cards, and then of course there is the ubiquitous television.   The problem with that option is that there are only three local channels available – in Russian or Kyrgyz.   We have a satellite dish and are able to get a number of channels in different languages, but once again, the choice is limited.   So we decided to put some of our small, personal, collection of video cassettes into the guesthouse and let guests choose if they wanted to watch them – free of charge.

In fact, the cassettes get very little use and, to be honest, I probably watch more of them on my regular monthly visits than the guests do.

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Now, I can, and do, watch films in Russian, whether they are Russian films, or foreign films which have been dubbed into Russian.

It is possible to watch a lot of films from other countries here, (e.g. France, Germany, China, India …when I first came here, Bollywood was very popular, but less so nowadays … not forgetting from the US and Britain), either in the cinema, on TV or on disc. Over the years I have watched with pleasure many where the film has been dubbed into Russian.

Just occasionally there is a film which is presented in its original language version, but with subtitles in Russian – for example, I enjoyed watching the Seven Samurai, in Japanese, but with Russian subtitles.

The worst possible variant, however, is where the soundtrack is provided in the form of simultaneous, synchronous translation. The problem is that the Russian translation is read over the original soundtrack, which is still audible – albeit faintly. Sometimes, there is only one voice translating all the parts, which makes it difficult to follow who is saying what, to whom. Often it is a case that they are just “reading the lines” without any form of emotion or “acting”.  What’s worse is that, because it is just possible to hear the original, (English), dialogue in the background, both it and the Russian versions interfere with, and distract from, one another.   Over the years, I have got used to trying to concentrate my attention on listening to just the one version and shutting out the other – and it’s the Russian version that’s easier to listen for, but there is always a great temptation to try and turn up the volume to see if you can make sense out of the English, (but if you do this, then all you succeed in doing is make the Russian louder … and you still cannot follow the conversation.)

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However, as Russian is not my native language, it involves more work and effort in order to follow the dialogue. Sometimes the language used is unfamiliar and although I may understand the gist of what is being said, it is possible that I miss important points of the conversation. Then again, the sound quality or special sound effects make it difficult to follow the dialogue.

So, to be honest, I would still prefer wherever possible to watch films where the dialogue is in English. Obviously, a film where the original language is English is ideal, (such as a British or American film), but I am more than happy with a film that has been dubbed, or even subtitled, in English.

In theory, in these days of CDs and DVDs, life is a lot simpler. Often, it is possible to buy a DVD with several language versions of the sound track, or subtitles, available. I say, “in theory”, however, because the CD’s are nearly all pirated versions and only contain Russian language versions, (of variable quality), and many of the DVDs available here are produced by studios based in the CIS and so the language versions on them may well be a choice between Russian and Ukrainian or Kazakh – with no English. As a result, I always have to check the box carefully and, (if there is no English version available), ask myself if I am prepared to make the additional effort to sit and watch this, or that, film in Russian.

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Perhaps that is one reason why it is harder for foreign films to be successful in the British and American markets. Apart from the fact that the subject matter is often more “arty”, we just too lazy to cope with the extra work involved in watching “foreign” films.

I remember watching it as an impressionable teenager on our small black and white TV one Sunday afternoon.  To be honest, I didn’t really enjoy it … it seemed to me a depressing and unreal.  However, it was basically about escapism and, as I say, I was impressionable and I was impressed by the overall message at the end – about the value and importance of being able to laugh.

http://www.tcm.com/mediaroom/index/?o_cid=mediaroomlink&cid=91105

Sullivan was a successful film producer, with a social conscience, who is tired of the films that the studio executives want him to make.  He wants to make a difference – and resolves to make a film about the troubles of the downtrodden poor based on the socially aware novel, “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” by Sinclair Beckstein – a fictitious name created from an amalgam of three different real-life authors who were famous for writing socially aware novels. Much to the chagrin of his producers, Sullivan sets off in tramp’s clothing with a single dime in his pocket to experience poverty first-hand, and in the process gets some shocking tastes of reality.

In his shoes he carries an identity card, but the shoes get stolen whilst he’s riding as a hobo in a boxcar,  goods train carriage.  Suffering from amnesia and disorientated, he is arrested as a vagrant and put to work in a chain gang.  At his lowest moment, with all hope gone and only deep despair left to him, he and the other convicts are given a “treat” – they are invited by a local church congregation to a showing of a Walt Disney cartoon featuring Pluto … it’s provides Sullivan with his Damascus Road experience.

In the mean time, the thief who stole his shoes is murdered and is identified only by the card in his shoes.  The death of the renowned and successful film producer makes headline news and Sullivan, his chance to break out of the shocking scenario into which he has been catapulted.  His photograph hits the front pages and all is revealed.

Returned to his former life, he decides that he wants to continue making films – but in place of the socially aware films such as O Brother, Where Art Thou? he decides instead that he want to make comedies.  In this way he feels that he can be of more help to the poor.

In a way, I thought, he is right.  Comedy is very important.  It takes people’s minds off their troubles and worries – if only for a brief moment.  That’s one one of the reasons why the likes of Charlie Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy and the Marx Brothers were so popular in their day.  It’s undeniable that they had talent – but it was also important that the audience was receptive to their message.

And, it wasn’t just comedy … this is also one of the reasons that “glamourous” films, like the the Busby Berkeley spectacles, were so successful.  People wanted escapism.  They did not want to be reminded of the misery of their everyday lives, rather they wanted something that transcended their daily existence, that took them away from the dreary drudgery of the everyday lives.

Ironically, Sullivans’ Travels falls into a paradoxical situation …  as one reviewer summed it up, the main message of the movie is that  “Laughter is the thing people want – not social studies”, but the film, itself, is heavy with social comment, if not with actual realism.  (The “realism” of the chain gang and prison scenes, however, were thought to be sufficiently powerful to restrict it’s original circulation as, it was felt, it might provide material for enemy propaganda in a time of war.)

During the week, I met with two travellers just returned from Southern Kyrgyzstan.  Their accounts of life there at the present time were depressing in some ways … but also revealed hopeful and positive elements.  People seem to be coming to terms with what happened, what they experienced.  They find their own ways of doing so.  Some find refuge in escapism, others in shutting off the unpleasant memories, (a bit like my father, who never really liked war films.  He lived through the war and was not impressed by them.  They brought back bad memories.)  Others face up to what they have experienced, fairly and squarely.

It was while reflecting on their accounts and thinking about how resilient people have been, that my mind went back to John Lloyd Sullivan, (to give the character his full name).

Life goes on and people do their best to adapt and make the best of the situation.  They seek out moments for relaxation and to take their mind off the troubles.  Sometimes, it seems so artificial – but so much better than the reality.

The story appeared in a youth orientated newspaper, “Limon“, (“Lemon”), because although the hour and a half long film is not due to receive its premiere until September, a clip and a couple of trailers for his romantic comedy, “Hearts of Three“, have already appeared on the internet.

I tracked them down on the site www.blive.kg – a sort of Kyrgyz youtube.

Although born in Kyrgyzstan, where he attended School Gymnasium No.6, the eighteen year old is currently a student at KIMEP (Kazakhstan Institute of Management Economics and Strategic Research), in Almaty, Kazakhstan.

He happened to be in Bishkek and was happy to give the newspaper an interview.

What does it cost to produce a feature film?  Robert Latham Browne has thirty years of experience in the industry and his book, “Planning the low budget film“, he describes the processes involved in scheduling and budgeting motion pictures in which he includes an example budget for an independent feature film, which comes in at something like two million US dollars.  In 1999, London Pictures Ltd. published a sample budget for a film called “Clans” which came in at just under 40,000 pounds, although they point out that the figures they quote “in no way … represent anything real“!

Faced with such figures, it’s easy to understand why Kyrgyz filmmakers have difficulty finding finance for their work.  Indeed, why any filmmakers anywhere in the world have difficulty in finding finance to complete their projects.

So, how did Karakeev manage to make his film?

One advantage that he had was that he not wrote the story, screenplay and directed the film himself … he also filmed it on an ordinary camera – a digital SLR Nikon D90.

As he put it, “the camera has a video function with good quality and the advantage is that you can change lenses to customize the features.”

I think Nikon should sign this guy up … and run a series of advertising campaigns based on him and his film.  Watch the clips … and compare the quality with that of other clips that you have seen from Hollywood blockbusters … you can judge the quality for yourself … I’m no expert but I, for one, was impressed!

The one problem, or difficulty, that arose from the use of the camera was that it required a lot of editing – especially when it came to the soundtrack.  “Since we did not have professional equipment, we had dub all the words, to overwrite the sounds in the studio,” he said.  “With a conventional camera, it is hard to catch voices, especially when you film in the street and in noisy environments.”

Karakeev also said that the most difficult part of making the film was the casting.  It seems that there was no shortage of would be actors who wanted to try out for the project, 111 for just 16 roles.  Amongst the lucky ones selected were some young actors, but there were also ordinary students.

The filming took place in Kazakhstan and the film credits list it as a Kyrgyz-Kazakh production.

Here’s a translation of the summary of the film given in the article:

The heroes of this film are easily recognizable, they are us – ordinary students who care about love, friends, family, education.  The kids are boys and girls who commit insane acts, fall in love, find something new, and at the same time lose something, learn something, teach something.  They differ in their history – each one has something special, something that makes them think – “Oh my God, this is because of what I did” and and the ups and downs of their fate is watched with keen interest – how to do it? – and what did he do? What will she do? … as they pass through these trials?

“Hearts of Three” is the story of serious Medet; the childishly pathetic and helpless Aijan; bold and responsive Diana; the lacking self-confidence but talented Aidar; the reckless and dangerous Alina and interesting and strong Max. These six young people go through life hand in hand, cursing, struggling with life’s situations, supporting each other, surprising us with their actions. ”Hearts of Three” is the world.  The world was created for those who believe in their dreams.

After four days of screenings, lectures, and other events, the jury awarded production grants as part of the Open Doors section of the International Film Festival to three films.  Unfortunately, Kyrgyzstan was not represented amongst the prizewinners. The top prize of 50,000 Swiss Francs, (USD40,000) went to “Sunny Days” from Kazakhstan, and two smaller prizes went to Uzbekistan’s “Aral” and “Barzagh“.

Saratan is a film made in 2005 by the Kyrgyz director Ernest Abdyjaparov, with financial assistance from Germany, and distributed in the West by a German company.

The film was made more than ten years after the demise of the Soviet Union - when the various socialist republics suddenly found themselves  with unexpected independence – which brought with it an economic malaise following the withdrawal of Moscow’s subsidies, and an ideological vacuum which together left Kyrgyzstan and its neighbouring Central Asian republics facing economic hardships and social upheavals.

It centers on the lives of people in one small Kyrgyz village,  a snapshot of life with happy and sad elements side by side.  It can also be seen, however, as providing a comment on the country’s history, society and culture in the period following independence, “where the average citizen is struggling with a sheer insurmountable number of difficulties.”

Fourteen years into independence, there are several things that just don’t seem to work in this small Kyrgyz village: the farms are not working; the people are poor without prospects for a better future although a few “rich” people have benefited – to the disadvantage of the average villager, employment is virtually non-existant and the little money that is earned is, all too often, spent on vodka.

More than 40 characters populate the film and provide a kaleidoscope of personal stories and relationships.  Amongst them are: drunkards, thieves, philanderers, hypocrites, adulterers, layabouts, a malicious jester, a shaman, a cheating wife, a mullah who oversleeps and has to rush to conduct morning prayers in which no-one seems to take an interest, a traffic policeman directing non-existent rush-hour traffic in the village square, the local mayor struggling to cope with an apathetic community in which seems to take him seriously, a Jehovah’s Witness missionary who finds an avid in the Communist die-hard as they share a prison cell, a cattle thief and his family who utter an Islamic prayer fused with nomadic gestures when slaughtering a stolen lamb

The “heroes” of the film, however, are the “Kyrgyz people” – who, despite the trials and tribulations of everyday life in a depressed economy, nevertheless manage to overcome them and find ways to cope with the apparent hopelessness of their situation.

Two phrases used by reviewers in describing it are: ”a happy-sad snapshot” and  “tragicomic tales of politics, tradition, modernity, pride and honour”.  The humour is underlined by a elements of satire, cynicism, self-mockery, a sense of absurdity and occasional moments of “slapstick”.

It was made on a small budget – just USD120,000 – and has been shown in a number of film festivals in Berlin, California, Cardiff, London and Marakesh – where it was the “Golden Star” prize, and in Russia where it has also won prizes.

Abdyjaparov says: “As far as context is concerned, this film is about difficulties of Kyrgyzstan for the last 10 years after it became independent from the Soviet Union. I showed it [the history of Kyrgyzstan] through a small Kyrgyz village, its history, people, social, economic and even philosophical issues and developments. I tried to show the whole country’s fate by showing one village,” .

This “Coming of Age” film is one of a sequence of three by Abdikalikov which have autobiographical elements.  It offers slowly unfolding drama in which the central character, Beshkempir, (played by the director’s son Mirlan), undergoes an identity crisis at the age of 13 when he learns that he is adopted.  Confused about his status and identity, Beshkempir must find his place in the world and make that painful transition from childhood to adulthood.

In the opening scene, an infant boy is given to a childless couple to adopt.  He is given the name Beshkempir, which is Kyrgyz for “five grandmothers” - a name sometimes given to adopted children to signify the role played by a council of old women of the village, deciding where a child from one family may be bestowed on another which is infertile.

Against a backdrop of daily village life which doesn’t seem to have changed for thousands of years, (people making bricks from mud and straw, winnowing grain in the wind, pruning fruit trees, hand-spinning thread, sewing, making reed mats, fishing, drying balls of manure for fuel … drinking vodka), Beshkempir is shown growing up like all boys.  His chief motivation is ”fun”: he plays with his friends and is scolded by his stern father for playing when he should be working.  The friends wrestle in the mud, taunt a hive of bees, steal chicken eggs, sneak into a neighbour’s yard to stare a naked woman treat herself with leeches, sculpt a female form in the sand and rehearsing sex with it – just the sorts of things adolescent boys will do. Sometimes, a young man with a bicycle enlists Beshkempir’s help in courting a village girl.  He helps a friend, (a movie projectionist), court a girl.  He nearly misses out on a trip to an outdoor film showing because he’s afraid to ask his father for money; his tender-hearted grandmother gives it to him instead. The crowd of villagers watches what is obviously an Indian musical, complete with a belly-dancing heroine.

Beshkempir is attracted to a girl named Ainura, but when he tries to flirt with her, another jealous boy picks a fight. an orphan.  The other boy, who has received a few blows in a fight, suddenly blurts out, “You’re an orphan and a foundling!”  When he asks his grandmother, she denies it, insisting that he is of her blood line and telling him that his name was given to him “to ward off the evil eye”.  But the feud between the two friends worsens and the other boy’s mother, a malicious gossip, reveals all in front of Beshkempir: he is not his parents’ natural child.  His stern father hits him for having creating this embarrassing situation. “Hit me instead,” his wife says.

Now he understands why his mother was so cold with him, and why his father so distant.

The distraught boy runs away and joins some fishermen, only returning upon the news of his grandmother’s serious illness.  In fact she dies before he gets home, and her funeral is the occasion for reconciliation.  His father tells him simply, “You were adopted.  We couldn’t have any children.”    Beshkempir and his friend embrace and are reconciled.

The men of the village gather together for the funeral … according to Turkic tradition, only men can bury the body.  Before they can do so, an appointed relative has to settle the earthly affairs of the deceased and Beshkempir gets to pronounce his grandmother’s testament to the assembled village: “If she had any debts, I will pay them; if anyone was in debt to her, I void it.”

In the end, he borrows the projectionist’s bicycle and begins courting Ainura.

Filmed in the Kyrgyz village called Bar-Boulak, it is mainly in black and white with some colour sequences which are used to highlight feminine sensitivities.  There is little music in the film, (it is only used in key scenes), instead natural sounds, (birds, wind, etc.), are used to give a sense of the expansive environment.

There are autobiographical elements within the film.  When an interviewer asked Abdikalikov, the film’s director if the tradition depicted in the film, by which a large family offers a newborn to a childless couple, had any special significance for him. “Indeed,” he said, “that is what happened to me. I was adopted. It may be a good custom, but it is very shocking when you learn as a teenager that you were adopted.”

The film has been shown at a number of Festivals and won almost 30 awards, including:

• The Silver Leopard Prize at the Locarno Film Festival in Switzerland, 1998
• The Don Quixote Prize at the International Association of Cinema Clubs
• The Grand Prize at the Eurasia Film Festival in Kazakhstan, 1998
• The Viewer’s Choice Award and the Jury’s Choice Award at the Vienna Film Festival in Austria, 1998
• The Asian Films Jury Award at the Tokyo Film Festival in Japan, 1999
• The Grand Prize and the Students Choice Award at the Kottobus in Germany, 1999
• The Prize of the Swiss Cinema Laboratory for Technical Excellence, 1999
• The Viewer’s Choice Award and the Prize of the French Producers’ Association at the Anjou Film Festival in France, 1999
• The Jury Award for Artistic Contribution at the Buenos Aires Film Festival in Argentina, 1999
• The Silver Film Can Award and the FIPRESSI Award at the Singapore Film Festival, 1999

After finishing High School, in 1978, he made several applications to enter the All Union Cinematography Institute in Moscow – ironically, as it turned out, unsuccessfully.  Instead, he launched himself into a varied career which included: a year with the Music School of the Osh Pedagogical Institute; work as an explosives expert in Issyk Kul; a period of study at the Institute for Russian Language and Culture, (where he made his first amateur films) and working as a teacher at the Katyrina and Enilchek High Schools.  The range and richness of his experiences have been reflected – and help to determining the topics of – his later films.

In 1988, by now married, he joined Kyrgyzfilm Studios as a production manager and location manager.  During this period he also worked on a satirical film magazine named “Korogoch”.   Later he became an editor, assistant director and since 1993 as a director.  He also wrote screenplays which attracted attention and he was invited by Aktan Abdikalikova to write the screenplay for “Selkinchek” (also known as “The Swing“). The two also worked together on another short film: “Bus Stop”.

Also in 1993, he had his debut as a Director - a short documentary called “Menin Pirim Almanbek” which was featured in several international film festivals.  His first major success, however, was a feature called “Taranchy” which won over ten awards at international fetivals, including the Grand Prix in the International Film Festival in Greece.  Since then he has directed over 15 short features – many of them based on his own screenplays – and in two he also acted as producer.

His best known film is “Aiyl Okmoto”, (also known as “Saratan“).  It marks his debut as a feature film director, and has also won several prizes, including the Gold Star in the Marakesh Film Festival.  It also features two of his own songs: Saratan and Jol.

Tolomosh Okeev, (1937-2001), was a film director whose output attracted admirers from abroad as well as at home.

His shot his first film, “There are horses”, in 1965, and his last in 1986.

Okeev tells his stories mainly through their landscapes, within which people were simply one element.  His storylines are usually minimal, with few plot twists.  The subject matter varied … but often drawn from the world around him.   He patiently studies the rituals of daily life at decisive moments during the eternal cycles of life – such as hunting or harvesting.  The people found much in the films with which they could identify and reminisce. For example:

• There are horses, was a short documentary about one of the typical symbols of the nomadic Kyrgyz lifestyle – the horse.
• The Fierce One (1973) which is often considered as his masterpiece, is set in pre-revolutionary Kazakhstan, and tells the story of a boy who “adopts” a wolf cub, raising him as a dog, who quickly learns about the savagery of both animals and humans. (The film contains vivid, dramatic, scenes depicting violence against animals, for example there are sequences of a pack of wolves raiding a herd of sheep by night, and a wolf hunt on horseback, contrasted with dramatic landscapes and snowscapes.  According to one reviewer: “The story of love and loyalty will touch your heart.”)
• The Snow Leopard’s Descendent is described as ”a hymn to the surrounding world”, with episodes that will be familiar to everyone “who has spent a childhood in the mountains”.

His films were entered in many festivals around the world and won many awards.  He gained a number of admirers in the west for his use of landscape.  One commentary, for example, says:

“The first thing that strikes you is Okeev’s way of filming the mountainous landscapes of the area. He uses a pretty stable frame, though he often reframes with tracks and zooms (I like his zooms better than almost anyone’s); he tends to shoot from a slightly elevated angle, so that the mountains and valleys fill the frame, often without too much sky. It’s quite beautiful. I don’t believe there’s a landscape shot in the film that’s just landscape: he’s always tracking people, often in long shot or extreme long shot, and their movements within the story. Though the landscape has an abstracting kind of power, he keeps things pretty concrete with his visual storytelling. For such a landscape-filled film, it has an odd intimacy. “

It is said that his ambition was to shoot a film about Genghiz Khan – but it was never fulfilled.

He is credited to have had a major influence over the development of the film industry, actors, and *** in the country.

When he died in 2001, (at the age of 66), the national film studio in his honour.

His films included:

• There are Horses (1965
• The sky of our childhood (1966)
• Kneel for the fire
• The Red Apple
• Ulan
• Golden Fall
• The Fierce One (1973)
• The Snow Leopard’s Descendant (1984)

According to the article, a group of Kyrgyz citizens living abroad have put together a plan for a Festival of Kyrgyz films, and in preparation for this have already translated several films into English, such as: Gennadiy Bazarov’s “Mother’s Field”, Bolot Shamshiev’s “Shot on the Karash Pass” and “White Steamer”, and Tolomush Okeev’s “The Skies of our Childhood”.

I was not that surprised by the news item in that it’s not the first time we have heard of such plans.  On previous occasions the plans fell through due to the difficulty in a sufficient level of sponsorship – running a festival is not a cheap activity.  I hope the present initiative has better luck.

Then, the next day, there was another item about five short films being selected to participate at the Fourteenth Winterthur International Short Film Festival, in Switzerland in November, (http://www.kurzfilmtage.ch/).  To qualify for the festival the film have to have been made during the last two years and be no more than twenty five minutes long.  The selected films are: Sadyk SherNiyaz’s “Ayan“, Akjoltoy Bekbolotov’s “Everything will be fine“, Tynchtykbek Akimaliev’s “Revenge“, Aidos Toktobaev’s “Tour to civilization” and Gulira Urkumbaeva’s “Where you are“.  One interesting thing about the announcement was that this is apparently only the “first” selection of Kyrgyz films for the festival … apparently, it was claimed, there are “dozens” of films currently being prepared in order to be submitted to the organizers.

The same day, it was announced that the Kyrgyz film “Sergi“, (“Earrings“), will be screened at the eleventh San Diego Asian Film Festival at the end of October. The Festival (http://www.sdaff.org/) is one of the largest exhibitions of Asian cinema in North America. and includes examples of “narrative” films, documentaries, short films, and animation.

This week also sees the start of the ten day, 63rd Lacarno International Film Festival.  One of the five most prestigious film festivals in Europe, it is considered to be a forum for new developments in cinema.  The official part of the festival is apparently held in a gigantic open-air cinema which can seat about 10,000 people.  This year, the festival is featuring the world premiere of fifty different films.

The “Open Doors” section of the festival highlights films and filmmakers from different regions around the world where film production is still relatively undeveloped.  Each year this section concentrates on a different region of the world and in recent years films have been presented from Cuba and Argentina, countries in the Mekong, the Maghreb, South-East Asia (which, in this case, included: Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand), the Near and Middle East (Mashrek), Latin America and  China.  This year, 2010, they are featuring films that have emerged from Central Asia over the last twenty years.

There will be showings of twelve films and representing Kyrgyzstan will be Beshkempir, Saratan and “My Brother, Silk Road“, (which was co-produced with Lazalhstan’s “Firm Kino”).

As part of the Open Doors section, (which is supported by the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation), directors and producers from the region participate in a workshopthat aims to help them find co-production partners, particularly from Europe, to help them complete their films.  At the end of the workshop, several prizes are awarded and two grants of 50,000 Swiss Francs, (one for development, one for production), are awarded, along with another prize of 10,000 Euros, (offered by the Centre National de la Cinématographie), which goes to support a first feature film project which is currently in development. The list of previous prizewinners includes several Kyrgyz filmmakers.

Generally, Kyrgyz films are not “blockbusters” – they are known more their “arty” nature, atmospherics and allegorical features rather than for action or “side splitting” humour … but there are a number of interesting films that have emerged out of Kyrgyzstan.

Earlier this year we heard of the launch of a collection on DVD called: “The Second Breeze of Kyrgyz Cinema” which brought together eleven films, (including seven short films and four full length feature films), on seven discs.   That wasn’t a cheap endeavor, either, but for this project the Cinema Development Fund, (an independent, non-profit organization), was able to attract financial support from the Regional Arts and Culture Programme in Central Asia, a project administered by the Swiss Co-operation Office in Kyrgyzstan and, also, with  support from  the Young Filmmakers Studio, (which was created with support of Goteborg International Film Festival Fund).

• “The rough river, the placid sea”, 61 min, 2004, by Marat Sarulu. A story of three brothers.  Having grown up in one home in love and harmony, the three go their own ways.  Whilst the eldest tries to maintain tradition, the youngest sells his inheritance and the middle brother denounces both and indulges in long spells of meditation.  In the face of the disintegration of the family, each brother tries to find his own path to reconciliation and reunification.
• “Beshkempir”, 78 min, 1998, by Aktan Arim Kubat (Aktan Abdikalikov). It was his first feature film and has been hailed as “a worldwide success”.  One of a sequence of three films which have autobiographical elements.  The central character, Beshkempir, (played by the director’s son Mirlan) undergoes an identity crisis at the age of 13 when he learns that he is adopted.  Although he has good relationships with his adopted family and friends, the discovery changes his life dramatically.  Filmed mainly in black and white with some colour sequences.
• “Unknown route”, 89 min, 2008, by Temir Birnazarov.  The film explores the relationships between passengers on an old bus, traveling through thick fog and without lights, in an allegory for the country and its people in the period following the collapse of the Soviet Union – a time of crisis, both economic and moral.
• “Boz Salkin”, 85 min, 2007, by Ernest Abdyjaparov.  A film about the traditional custom of Ala Kachuu – “bride stealing”.  The film addresses the question of whether the practice can defended in this day and age, even if the couple end up living “happily ever after”.  The disturbing tale that it tells explores a variety of themes includsing: family loyalty, deception, betrayal and love.
• “Aidai”, 29 min, 2009, by Erkin Rispaev.  This film explores how a young couple enter adult life and how the adult world deals with them … a film about relationships, “first love”, (full of sincerity and openness), naivety, dreams and aspirations and the search for beauty.
• “Bus Stop”, 27 min, 2000, by Ernest Abyjaparov and Aktan Arim Kubat.  Shooting for this film began in 1995, without any financial backing, and had to be abandoned for two years. Four strangers, (a boy, a man, a woman, and an elderly man), wait for a bus, (that never arrives), at a bus stop located close to a major, busy highway intersection. Shot exclusively in a stationary long-shot, the four characters gradually emerge as a model of a nuclear family. The old man sits on the bench and plays with his musical watch, the middle aged man fidgets in his place and the young boy keeps kicking a can. Then the woman arrives. A singing drunk bothers her. The middle-aged man protects her and makes her acquaintance. The drunk throws the old man’s watch into the snow-covered fields. Then he gets beaten up, begins to sob. The boy finds the watch. The woman consoles the drunk who is finally “integrated into the family”.
• “The border”, 19 min, 2006, by Marat Alikulov.  Four labour migrants from Kyrgyzstan accompany the body of their recently deceased colleague back home from Kazakhstan when a dispute with Kazakh border guards forces them to turn back but, thanks to the intervention of a friendly Kazakh truck driver, they are finally able to deliver their friend’s body for burial.
• “Everything is OK”, 16 min, 2007, by Akjol Bekbolotov.  A film about the life of homeless children inj the heart of Bishkek.  In spite of the hardships of street life, the film tells how some of the children manage to maintain qualities such as friendship, devotion and responsibility.
• “Toptash”, 16 min, 2007, by Nargiza Mamatkulova.  A sick young girl from a broken home loses her self-confidence and the will to live, sets out to search for her father and travels to his home village.  Instead of her father, she discovers her grandfather and begins to find reasons to live again..
• “Cattle Camp”, 34 min, 2009, by Alijan Nasyrov.  This film shows the life of a Kyrgyz family living in the high mountains, far from the “delights” of civilization. In a place where inhabited by wolves and yaks, the family live in harmony with nature in a spirit of self sufficiency.
• “Among Clouds”, 11 min, 2006, Stambulbek Mambetaliev.  This film tells the story of a shepherd and his family, living high in the mountains where they tend their animals all year round, through summer and winter.

All the eleven films were made in Kyrgyzstan, (albeit that some of them had financial support from abroad), in the period since Independence in 1991.  Some of the films in the collection were dubbed into English whilst others had subtitles; some were in black and white whilst others were shot in full colour.  Some have been exhibited in foreign film festivals and won a variety of awards.

At the time, I asked the question, if this is the “second breeze”, what happened to the first one? … is there, or are there plans, for a similar collection of the “first breeze” – those films dating from the Soviet period, including those of Tolomush Okeev, who is probably the best known Kyrgyz director of this period in the West, and the films of Chinghiz Aitmatov’s novels such as “Djamila“, “First Teacher” and “The White Ship“.  Apparently, there are some tentative plans but there are also problems.  It seems that most of the films are kept in the archives in Moscow and special arrangements need to be made.  As well as technical issues and the need for international liaison, there are also copyright issues.  Whatever, I wish them luck in the enterprise.

I also commented that there were several notable films missing from the list, although Beshkempir was in the list, Saratan wasn’t but, then again, the collection was only meant to be a sample of the work of talented filmmakers of Kyrgyzstan.

After four days of screenings, lectures, and other events, the jury awarded production grants to three films.  Unfortunately, Kyrgyzstan was not represented amongst the prizewinners. The top prize of 50,000 Swiss Francs, (USD40,000) went to “Sunny Days” from Kazakhstan, and two smaller prizes went to Uzbekistan’s “Aral” and “Barzagh“.

Kyrgyzstan may not spring to mind whenever there is discussion about the Cinema and the film industry.  This is understandable as very few films made in Kyrgyzstan reach the West, and those that do are normally restricted to various specialist festivals.  There is, however, a film industry and, even though they don’t produce high-budget “blockbusters”, the Kyrgyz Film Institute has long had a reputation in the countries of the former Soviet Union for producing interesting and challenging films.  That reputation is being maintained by a new generation of producers in the newly independent country, despite facing many problems – such as the lack of finance.

The first film to be shown, rather than filmed, in Central Asia was screened in Tashkent as early as 1897.  No-one is certain when the first film was shown in Kyrgyzstan but the Soviet Union built a number of cinemas in the main cities, and Social Clubs in many of the villages where films were shown … and they also developed the Kyrgyz Nomadic Cinema as a propaganda weapon, to take films to remote communities in the country’s rugged mountain regions by horse.  According to Finnish director, Arto Halonen, whose film “The Star’s Caravan” tells of two modern day projectionists trying to keep the system alive: “In Kyrgyzstan 80% of the films came from the Soviet Union and 20% from the other Eastern European countries. Generally, the whole propaganda system was very well built and very well controlled. The old Soviet films were done in a very skillful way as manipulated films because they were using emotions to tell the story.”

There are, now, a number of cinemas in Bishkek which show a wide variety of films from all over the world – usually dubbed into either Russian or Kyrgyz.  Gennady Bazarov, a prominent Kyrgyz director who has not made any films since 1989 comments: “There are people who want to see Kyrgyz films, but many problems exist. First, the cinemas are very old. Second, those that work show Hollywood films, action and pornography. Third, many people are so poor, they can’t go to the cinema at all. A new law has just been signed by the president about a little aid to cinema; it is small but symbolically significant to help people understand that art is important.”

The attitudes of the Kyrgyz towards their film industry, and of those within the industry itself, are markedly different from those found in the West.  Although local audiences are now more familiar with Hollywood blockbusters than with the products of their domestic industry, there is a pride in the achievements of the Kyrgyz film industry.

Kyrgyzstan got its own film studio in 1942.  It was the last of the Central Asian republics to do so.

• The first in the region was established had been established in Uzbekistan as early as 1924, (called “Buchkino”, as it was based in Bukhara).  Technically, it was a subsidiary of Leningrad’s Sewsapkino studio – and in 1925 the “Star of the Orient” studio opened in Tashkent.
• Turkmenistan followed in 1926 when the Ashgabat Kinofabrica (“Film Factory”) was established.
• In 1929, a documentary film unit, a subsidiary of Vostokkino, was set up in Almaty, (the unit established it’s own studio in 1934).
• Tajikkino (later Tajikfilm) was founded in 1930 as Tajikistan’s documentary and newsreel-studio,

As in the case of Kazakhstan and Tajikistan, at first, the studio in Kyrgyzstan made just documentaries and newsreels.  It was only in 1955 that the first “feature” to be filmed in the country, “Saltanat”, appeared … once again, Kyrgyzstan was the last of the Central Asian republics to break into new territory.  In fact, “Saltanat” was produced by a film company based in Moscow (“Mosfilm”) and the first truly local production, called “My Mistake” appeared two years later, in 1957.

In the early days, most of those involved producing films for the Central Asian studios came from the Western republics of the USSR – Belorussia, Russia, Ukraine, – and were generally the less important characters.  One reason why cast and crew were “imported” was the reluctance of the locals to work with film – possibly because of Islamic views about images in various art forms. It was only later that the first local talents finally began to emerge – although that did little to alter the character of the film output – in view of the soviet control of propoganda.

During WWII the film studios in Central Asia were to become the centre of Soviet film production: as with many other industries the studios of Moscow, Leningrad, and Kiev were evacuated from the path of the advancing German armies and were transplanted to the safety of the Soviet Union’s vast interior.  As a result, for example, Eisenstein’s classic “Ivan the Terrible” was shot in Alma-Ata. After the war, when the western Russian studios returned to their original bases, they left much of their equipment behind in their temporary homes, further-boosting Central Asian filmmaking in terms of facilities. In terms of subject matter, however, the studios were still subject to the dictat of the Moscow regime.

It was in the 1960’s when cinema in Central Asia began to blossom, A change in attitudes in Moscow (sometimes called the “Soviet Thaw”)  initiated by Premier Nikita Khrushchev cleared away the restrictions imposed by the Stalinist regime.  In the arts this meant an end to the official monumental style and “freedom of expression” was encouraged.  Although the Party did not relinquish all forms of control, a more realistic, more personal, kind of cinema was encouraged.  A great deal of money was invested in the film industry and production grew – including the output of the studios in the Central Asian republics.

Amongst the various film makers to their mark during this period were Larissa Shepitko and Andrei Konchalovsky from Kyrgyzstan.  They were the first to adapt the works of Chingiz Aitmatov – Shepitko’s Heat, and The First Teacher, were well received as masterpieces.

In fact, Chinghiz Aitmatov was to play a pivotal role in the development of Kyrgyz Cinema.  Apart from the fact that he was the head of the Kirghiz Filmmakers’ Union for over twenty years, his novels and screenplays formed the basis for much of the country’s film classics and also served as aesthetic examples – so that even if he wasn’t directly involved in a film’s production, he still exerted a strong and unmistakable artistic influence.

Another major producer from this period was Tolomush Okeev.  His first film was in 1965, and his last in 1986.  When he died in 2001, (at the age of 66), the national film studio in his honour.  He has been described as “one of the greatest outdoor filmmakers who ever lived”, “a somewhat reclusive master of a discreet pantheistic cinema”, “a born poet”, and a “master of the smallest nuances, of the beauty of details”.  Okeev tells his stories mainly through their landscapes, within which people were simply one element.  His storylines are usually minimal, with few plot twists.  He patiently studies the rituals of daily life at decisive moments during the eternal cycles of life – such as hunting or harvesting.

The 1970s and early 1980s were challenging but rather productive. Waking up to a sudden change with Leonid Brezhnev’s “stagnation era” and Soviet filmmakers were forced to express their thoughts in a way that wouldn’t be obvious to censors.  As a safe path, many decided to make films about the establishment of Communism in the region.  Regardless of the main plot, the viewer could “read between the lines”.  Another approach, adopted by many of the Kyrgyz film makers was for films to concentrate on the daily life of locals.

During Perestroika other young filmmakers made their first works and attracted attention on the festival circuits, including directors like Aktan Abdikalikov and Beyzhan Aidkuluev.

However, just as such directors were beginning to obtain a reputation the collapse of the Soviet system a devastated the regional film industries.  Suddenly:

• there were no more state subsidies available,
• they were deprived of the services of an agency in Moscow which would promote their work to Western festivals and distributors,
• there were no film schools outside Kazakhstan for any Central Asian directors.

Faced with serious social, economic, social and political problems, the arts were not a high priority for the government and the national film centers (throughout Central Asia) found themselves in severe difficulties.  However, most filmmakers stayed in their home countries, although many of them work in other businesses in order to earn a living and creative filmmakers started looking towards the West for finances and recognition.  Some films have been produced with financial support from Europe, notably from France and Germany.  Films have been submitted to several festivals around the world and have achieved a certain level of success and earning recognition for several individuals,  (in particular, Beshkempir and Saratan for their respective directors Abdikalikov and Abdyjaparov).

“We want economic reforms to change our system,” commented Ernest Abdyshaprov, (who worked with Abdikalikov on the short film “Bus Stop”), in 2001. “We understand that we are going through a difficult period. Perhaps one day the attention of the government will turn to us. In the meanwhile, we make videos to survive. In the Soviet era, Kyrgyzstan made three films per year. After perestroika, we made more because directors could find rich sponsors. In 1992, twelve long feature films were produced. But after that, it became more and more difficult. Between 1995-96, no films were made. Since 1996, we have been producing one film in two years, but this year two feature films have been made: Aktan Abdykalykov’s Maimal, produced with French money and Marat Sarulu’s Altyn kyrghol (“The Silk Road).”

Most filmmakers who have work are now producing short video clips for television.

Other recent developments include:

• the renovation of the Kyrgyz film studio – to incorporate a recording studio, a national film museum, and restaurant on the premises;
• attempts to seek governmental support and trying to produce films by young filmmakers including competitions for aspiring new talent to produce scenarios and screenplays;
• independent studios are being established
  • one is called “Beshkempir”, headed by Aktan Abdikalikov and named after his successful film
  • the film studio Epos has an extensive film library and produces films commissioned by clients

Kyrgyz films tend not to be filled with action.  They are more atmospheric and have an artistic flair which mark them out as different from their Western counterparts.  In place of action, the directors, actors and film crews call upon their collective experiences.  (Some of the films have distinctly autobiographical elements.)  Many of the themes explored are expressed through everyday situations – the life and culture of the people.  The films are populated with scenes from daily life.  Animals and landscape also feature prominently.

For example, when speaking at a press conference about the film “Bus Stop”, one of the writers, Abdyjaparov described how, “most of all we wanted to show our country in the film. Active life – a noisy thoroughfare that is intersected by a highway, while we just stand there and wait for something. … Obviously this is some sort of dead end because the bus doesn’t come after all, and perhaps won’t ever come. But the main thing is – the people who stand there. They are alive, human, and will always live together.”

There is one local project aiming to produce a “Hollywood type” film (to be called “Paranoia”), but generally filmmakers recognize that their industry cannot produce commercial films and compete with Hollywood.  They don’t have the finance available … but also, according to Abdyjaparov: “it is not our mentality. We can only make our traditional Kyrgyz cinema and develop intellectual films. We are in the process of finding our lost traditions and parallel to that trying to choose the best tradition to adapt to meet the civilization of the West.”

If there is a tendency for modern Kyrgyz films to reflect the current social conditions and cultural heritage of the people – one thing that is often missing is: politics.  Whereas at one time directors sought refuge in making films about how Communism was established in the region … now political issues are not deemed subjects for comment.