Making documentaries is a varied and challenging field
By Bill Rea

Christopher Rowley and Christina Pochmursky recently spoke about their experiences making documentaries.

Documentaries might sound like they're simple to define, but there's actually quite a variety when it comes to that form.

That was among the notions that emerged from a lecture delivered by King resident Christopher Rowley of Cream Productions Inc., and writer/producer Christina Pochmursky. Their talk was part of the recent Arts Festival King.

Rowley is the co-founder of Cream Productions, which specializes is factual entertainment.

Working and directing in films is really the only job he's ever had, he commented, saying he got into the industry after graduating from art college in London, "and never got out of it."

"So far, it's not been bad," he added.

Rowley's career has taken him to various corners of the world, including about 15 years in South Africa, before settling in Canada in the mid '80s. He started directing commercials here, but eventually switched to documentaries; a change which he said is not that easy to make.

Pochmursky said she's worked with Rowley before, and confirmed he's a brilliant director in terms of archiving, reconstruction and recollection.

"It's a skill that I wouldn't even begin to come near," she remarked, adding he likes to concentrate on history, stories and film making. "He likes to do very elaborate set-ups," she commented.

Pochmursky said she came to documentaries from being a reporter as a young intern for Global, and concluded that film making is like joining the circus. "You're unfit for regular life after that," he observed.

She spent some time at Global, working in the field every day to get quick items ready for the 6 p.m. news, then she went to CBC, where she hosted a show along the lines of 60 Minutes. That was followed by a stint as executive producer and host of a business show, which she described as "one of the dark moments of my life."

Then she went to work for Rowley's company, and she learned a lot there.

One interesting point she made is the documentary is Canadian.

"It's a Canadian invention," she declared. "It's what Canadians are renowned for around the world, and respected for."

Pochmursky said the first documentary, Nanuke of the North, was made in 1922 by a Canadian who was working for the Hudson's Bay Co. and doing some surveying. He got to know the people living up there, but she said he also set up some of his shots. Despite that, it was the first time anyone had captured real life on film without a script. She added it was the beginning of the notion that reality was actually interesting.

"It's a film that captures real life," she said.

The National Film Board was formed in 1939, but Pochmursky said that was mainly a vehicle for making propaganda films for the war effort, aimed at making people patriotic and anxious to enlist. After the war, the board started making duller films; "sort of like academic scripts," she said.

But in the late '50s and early '60s, a "remarkable bunch of guys got together." They made use of changing technology, which resulted in cameras that were more portable, and got out of the studios. They were known as Unit B, and their executive producer Tom Daly let them get away with turning around all the rules of film making and doing the opposite. Pochmursky said they made films with no scripts. They just took their cameras and filmed life as it developed, figuring what they got would be interesting enough to make a story in the cutting room.

She said the chance Daly took of these people paid off. "They came back with extraordinary things," she said, adding they were able to make films of "ordinary people doing ordinary things."

Rowley said there is a creative cross over between various types of film making.

In some cases, he pointed out, there may be filming of people in real situations, but there will still be a lot of improvising.

When one is making a documentary about history, or science and technology, it's different because the stories are more defined.

His specialty is finding scenarios that are partly character driven. Rowley stated that to get people to watch a film, there had to be a character they care about.

The challenge is to make that character come alive and make the audience believe that the character is there, in the story.

He also said the stories have to be based on factual data, such as from diaries of those who were there. He said he won't recreate anything unless it can be completely verified that it happened. "Nothing we do is not supportable," he declared.

Another challenge involves special effects. Rowley said people are used to them in films, so documentary makers have to keep pace and incorporate those techniques on a limited budget.

Pochmursky's work is different. "My films are like kitchen sink dramas," she remarked.

One of her works was about dwarfs, and she followed the the progress of one of these young men, including his prom and the prospect of facing major surgery. The filming went ahead, although no one knew what the ending was going to be (there were problems with his bones, and amputation was not out of the question). "You just have to hope that the documentary gods will be on your side," she said.

Pochmursky said she spent a lot of time with him and his mother, allowing her to get close to their experience.

Making such a documentary, she said, is like going into the landscape of another person.

"Usually, a lot of these films are made on a credit card," she observed, adding broadcasters are often reluctant to put up a lot of money on something like this because they don't know how it will turn out.

It's different for the work Rowley does. His films are internationally co-produced, meaning the budgets are higher. He already knows how his stories are going to end. The key is how they are told.

All production companies employ developers, researchers and writers who spend a lot of their time reading to get a sense of what subjects are out there.

It can take a year to deliver a product, and Rowley said a lot of them fall away before they are done. Maybe one in 10 films make it to the TV screen.

"That is the nature of the business," he said.

The secret, according to Rowley, is coming up with stories that are of universal interest.

"It's quite a dance," he said, pointing out it takes time to develop the stories, then an average of 40 weeks to make the actual film. "It's an extended process."

The broadcasters are facing pressure too, Pochmursky said. They have about 40 people pitching ideas at them every week. "There's just too much coming at you," she remarked.

Another problem is the number of channels available, meaning it's hard to get a real critical mass of audience to watch anything.

"I don't know what makes you do it," she commented. "Maybe it's a sickness."

But she added there's a great sense of satisfaction to be able to see it all come together.