News *East About us Archive Imprint Deutsch




redaktionsbüro: Eduard Steiner
Kira Muratova:
- From your own experience you are familiar with the totalitarian system of the Soviet Union. Was it a construction imposed from above or the work of the people who lived in it?
- The system functioned from above to below: people in higher positions treated those beneath them badly. The Soviet citizens accepted this system, allowed this oppression. In other countries the population would have managed to rise up against the despots, to introduce rules, laws and restrictions on those in power, so that they could not behave so wilfully and arbitrarily. Our servility is almost a national characteristic. It is certainly still of relevance that Russia abolished serfdom only in 1861, about fifty years after Western Europe. The psychology of servility has survived among our people, it is something eastern, this desire to submit oneself to a tsar or a ruler of some kind or other.
- When I first met you six years ago we spoke about progress. Then you tended towards the opinion that it does not exist, either in terms of society or of individuals.
- There is no such thing as progress and the majority has no longer believed in it for some time now. As we can see in different countries, for example Ukraine, this so called progress is in fact a pendulum that can swing in one direction and then equally quickly in the other. Naturally for those of us alive at the present the fall of the Soviet Union is a good thing, also for me personally and in particular for my artistic work, which I was unable to carry out freely during the Soviet era.
However I don't believe that this freedom will survive forever, man as a biological being with two ears and two hands does not change. Countries that proudly proclaim themselves to be more progressive or democratic than others present a construct of good and evil to the world, which, they believe, is clear, permanently defined and valid. But the political situation in such countries can change from one day to the next, as we well know. I have had to experience and to accept this in my own life.
- What do you think of the "Orange Revolution" in your chosen home Ukraine?
- I take a positive view of all the signs that people have begun to think for themselves and at least believe that they are acting progressively. I find these naive people likeable.

- Naive people?
- They are really congenial people, as they believe in the given moment in the strength of the deed that has an inherent possibility of defending higher values. Naivety is not the same as stupidity. But we are seeing at the moment how all their efforts turn in the opposite direction. Every revolution – whether bloody or peaceful – is borne by this upward surge from the material to the anti-material. This is appealing but cannot last for long. Afterwards the guillotines fall and heads roll.
- What did you do during the "Orange Revolution"?
- I always do the same: I film or I think about what I am going to film next. I don't do anything else. That is my politics.

- Has the "Orange Revolution" had an effect on the art scene in Ukraine?
- Yes and no. Political changes take effect at the management levels of companies and ministries and most obviously affect those artists who are dependent on money from the culture ministry. New political leaders reshuffle the cards but they play the same game. Generally after an election all that happens are the familiar delays of a purely democratic nature, then everything is the way it was before.
In terms of art things have changed in Ukraine in the sense that, over the past ten years, one can observe a move towards scripts and projects that convey national and often very nationally oriented contents. The freedom of opinion in our country is a positive side effect of the "Orange Revolution". However either before or after this revolution I myself did not experience the kind of ideological suppression that existed during the Soviet era.
- What tendencies to you see at present in Ukrainian filmmaking?
- This is hard to say, as there are very few films on the national market. In Russia there are very many films being produced at present, as there is a lot of money in circulation there. There are even state film subsidies in Russia and the financial support of film projects can be written off against tax. Where there is a lot of filming, then, statistically speaking, many good films are made.
There are no state subsidies for film in Ukraine. Filmmakers run begging for money from one financial backer to the next. Here almost no one wants to provide money, as this cannot be deducted from taxes. I myself do not know a single oligarch who has given money for a film.
- Do you think that at the present in Ukraine, which is torn apart politically, there is a lack of moral authority, of people who can demonstrate certain orientation points?
- Too few?! On the contrary, there are too many. Here there are all kinds of busybodies who assert that they know what is good and bad. Hypocrites. Perhaps people need this kind of orientation; perhaps it even offers hope for a certain period. I myself don't need any of this.
- With regard to your work: you once said that immediately before the start of an artistic process you feel a certain fear.
- Not only beforehand, but also during the process, constantly. Angst, fright, delight ,then again this fear of new projects. But this is normal, this is something actors also experience. To shape or form something is every time a new kind of adventure, a great adventure that is made up of many little adventures. Every film is a huge risk, anything can happen
- Do you experience great artistic freedom in putting together the film in the studio, as that is where you can best escape from the unexpected and the fear of it?
- I am calmer in the studio, certainly. The work in the cabinet is less connected with the living; indeed it isn't connected with them at all. Actors can get sick, have their moods, and even die. I have experienced all kinds of things. And while filming nature – and politics – can suddenly turn against one. Cinema is made up of human beings who fight, make up, and have expectations. Things can never be prepared so well that everything is under control. I have come to accept this and have even added a component of risk in that I like to work with professional actors and lay people. This always results in a certain spark.
- Are you afraid of death?
- Yes, as I don't believe in eternal life, although it wouldn't be a bad thing to believe in it.
- If an eternity, then an eternity of filming?
- Of course, now that would be really something.
Kira Muratova was born in 1934 in Sorokim / Bessarabia (today: Moldavia). After studying philology in Moscow she then studied directing at the film university (WGIK). Since 1961 she has worked in Odessa in Ukraine, where she lives with her husband the cameraman Jevgeny Golubenko. Her work includes more than 15 films, the best known in the West are "The Aesthetic Syndrome" (Silver Bear, Berlin Film Festival 1990) and "Three Tales" (1997). Her other films include: "Long Farewell" (1971), "The Attempt to Get to Know the Big Wide World" (1978), "Second-class People" (2001), Chekhov Motifs" (2002), "Letter to America", and "The Tuner" (2004).

Text published in: REPORT.Magazine for Arts and Civil Society in Eastern- and Central Europe,August 2007