NORWEGIAN PRODUCTION HELL: Tales from the set of «Forgotten sunrise»
By Robert J.T. Vawter
It may sound familiar, cliched even, but «Forgotten sunrise» WAS
primarily born from frustration and dissatisfaction; With film schools
and their established rules of how things should be done, with
production hierarchy, and above all with conventional narrative. Why
adhere to the textbook mantra, perpetuated by so many authoritative
voices, to the notion that films have to take a linear approach in
order to work, when you can experiment, diverge, fragmentize?
With «Forgotten sunrise» I wanted to prove that I could make a film
without relying on the usual film school infrastructure, on the the
assistance of producers and fellow students and a straight forward
script. Instead I opted for the guerilla approach: The less the
merrier. Minor crew. Long days. Loads of work. For everyone.
IT BEGINS & CREW BY TWO
The script for «Forgotten sunrise» was based on an original idea by my
friend Jon Helge Hesby about a group of nomadic vampires who are on their way to the coast to commit collective suicide. We simplified the
concept, to make it easier to pull of in a short time.
Shot in the course of six hectic days in the summer of 2008,
«Forgotten sunrise» was without a doubt an ordeal. But an enhancing
one. It would become a unique and intimate little macrocosmos,
populated by a few dedicated, shadowy figures, who knew that unless
they did everything themselves, nothing would materialize.
The crew consisted of two people: Myself and Jon Helge Hesby, who I
had collaborated with on many previous non-budget films. There were
never more than the two of us behind the camera at any point during
the production. I directed, did the sound, prepared shot lists for
every single day, transported props, picked up actors etc.. Jon Helge
did the cinematography, lighting, rigging, transportation, catering
and the film’s make up and special effects. He also brought on board
the film’s most vital assets: A Panasonic HVX200 hd camera, a small
camera crane, an indie dolly and lights. Because we didn’t have any
adaptors for photo lenses, we had to shoot at full f-stop and zoomed
in to get the desired filmic look.
The budget was non-existent of course. We begged, borrowed and
scavenged to find the props, locations and people necessary to flesh
out the universe we wanted. Any expenses were covered by whatever
minor money we had, probably no more than a few hundred dollars.
Cinematographer Jon Helge Hesby even took two weeks of from his
regular well-paid job as a real estate photographer to prepare and
shoot the film. This was truly a 2 man show.
LOCATIONS
The main location used in the film was an old, run-down house from
around 1910, with wonderful interiors and lots of space. We found it
after a long and harrowing location scouting that led us down more
blind alleys than you can shake a pair of fake fangs at. Note to self:
People are not co-operative! Unless you can pay they won’t give a shit
about your ambitions. Luckily it turned out that the owner of this
particular house knew the father of my friend, so he let us use the
house for free. And with complete carte blanche. Fake blood included.
The previous tenant, an old recluse, had died many years ago. His
decaying corpse was found on the second floor a week after his death,
when the police broke into the house to look for him. The perfect
atmosphere for a vampire movie. Death and decay.
CASTING
With the main location secured, we moved on to casting. Through a
casting agency nearby (who we managed to persuade into getting us
actors for free), we found a few options for the main vampire Lilith:
Cathrine Sætre, who I had previously seen in the film of a friend of
mine and who would become the star of «Forgotten sunrise», and a local girl with little previous experience. The two girls were called in for auditions at the only place we really had at our free disposal, the
old house. The local girl showed up first with her mother and then her
sister. At the second audition the first thing out of her mouth was
that her sister was well versed in the art of karate. Apparently long
haired non-budget film makers are shady characters and
would-be-rapists (especially in a spooky, abandoned house). They would molest your dvd-player if you let them.
The frustrating thing was that this girl was a rather good actress. We
would have used her. However, the minute she heard that there was
semi-nudity involved in the film, she vanished. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that we put greasy make up, sticky fake blood and fake fangs with wax on them on her during that second audition as well. Who knows. Anyway, our calls were no longer answered and to this day she turns and flees whenever we run into her on the street. I guess we made a very good first impression.
PRODUCTION
I have two main recollections from production: LONG DAYS! We worked from early morning to late in the night and virtually lived at the house at times. Although, honestly, many times we were too intimidated by the history of the place to actually spend the night.
We attached lights to the ceiling for maximum freedom of movement for
the camera, put down dolly tracks all over the place and had equipment
scattered everywhere. Also, as the electrical system of the house was
old an open-circuit, we had to rewire it. The bathtub in the basement
used in one of the film’s key scenes is a story of it’s own. We
probably poured a couple of liters of disinfectant and soap into it.
Year’s of use by an old man does not wash out easily.
One of the funniest yet most frustrating things taking place during
production was the film’s final feeding scene. The script called for
blood, corpses and full frontal nudity, and we had managed to find
someone willing to do just that: An acquaintance of my cinematographer
and the guy’s nubile and open-minded girlfriend. The plan was to meet
at noon and start shooting shortly after. Hours went by and of course
no-one came. We must have called these people a hundred times on their
mobile phones, but finally gave up and had to realize that we could
not do the scene the way we wanted. These people had chickened out.
And everything was ready. Lights, camera, blood, the other actors, but
not what we needed most: Vampire victims.
30 minutes later we were shooting as planned. With my sister wrapped
in plastic and fake blood and some random guy standing in for the
other vampire victim actor. As long as we didn’t shoot faces we
figured we would get away with it. My poor sister had to endure hours
of cold floors, sticky blood and cinematic degradation. All in the
name of art.
PROSTITUTES, POLICE, SAND
The stories do not stop there. While shooting material for a scene
that did not make the final cut, we were in a nearby town, in a shady
back alley often frequented by hookers. I walked over to some Nigerian prostitutes to ask them to appear as extras in the film, and the
minute they saw the camera, they took flight. And I mean ran like
crazy. Apparently I was not meant to add additional realism to that
particular scene.
No non-budget film is complete without the appearance of the law of
course, and we had our obligatory run-in with the police. We had just
completed filming for the day and were driving one of the actors back
to his place. It was a small, conservative rural area and our car was
filled to the brim with props. I was sitting in the passenger front
seat with a bird cage on my lap and the whole back of the car was full
of lamp shades, lights and various items. We’re driving along this
quiet road, when suddenly out of nowhere this patrol car appears. It
passes, turns around in the roundabout and we’re pulled over. Lights
and all. The police man knocking on our side window must have
seriously taken us for burglars with the car full of stolen goods, but
luckily we managed to convince him that we were film makers. Upon
spotting me with the bird cage on my lap, he exclaimed something like:
Out walking the bird, aye?
Any accidents then? You bet. While shooting the final beach scene,
cinematographer Jon Helge Hesby tripped while running down a slope and fell head first into a sand dune. The result? The whole front piece of
the Panasonic camera had to be replaced, as it was full of sand. Not
an inexpensive operation to say the least.
There are probably countless other incidents and recollections, but
I’ll stop here. The film left us exhausted to say the least, but it
was worth the effort. We managed to complete a different, off-beat,
albeit far from perfect, vampire movie. Only sporting a crew of two
and ample helpings of cinematic enthusiasm.