Interview with Miguel Rocha: A Dialogue

Interview with Miguel Rocha: A Dialogue
by Adam Basquill

Adam Basquill interviewed Miguel Rocha for the Newsletter about his latest film, Lost Heroes, a first feature. Co-produced with his wife Trish and shot in Portugal and Toronto, the film was completely self-funded.

"You know what I don't have respect for? I don't have respect for people who look at life as a way to do one thing...I don't like people that live their lives doing one thing, and one thing only...that's what I don't have respect for." So says Miguel Rocha, paradoxical filmmaker, both in life and in his docudrama feature Lost Heroes. Born in "the land of pork and cheese" Porto, Portugal, Rocha immigrated to Canada at age five with his family only to return years later some cynicism, passions, ambition...and a cinematic vision.

And what a vision Lost Heroes is. Rocha's sense for photographic merit rings true in this multi-themed feature of social discontent in present day Portugal. An appreciation for original art is no secret to the filmmaker, and one observes such key influences reflected all around him. Books on Picasso, Cézanne, and especially Robert Rauschenberg adorn the bookshelf. His own paintings and captivating photography canvas the walls of his downtown Toronto apartment. All this coupled with hundreds of vinyl LPs of sometimes rare choices of music, including: the Velvet Underground, Ornette Coleman, and the Beatles.

Rocha began the exploration at University of Toronto studying architecture, and gathered momentum in Ontario College of Art and Design studying film, photography, and various forms of artistic theory. He directed award winning shorts (William F. White award for Miscommunication) that captured the imagination of his audience...or, perhaps more accurately, they reflect the captured imagination of Rocha himself.

Intrigued by the collage-like manner of art, music, and books displayed in Rocha's place, I inquire: can there be any original ideas? Indeed, it is one of "the most compelling questions" Rocha suggests. Eyeing his collection of music, I introduce the notion of conformity in popular music. Excitedly, Rocha makes a reference to a Toronto teenaged trend, and offers this: "once I drove down Yonge street playing Coltrane's 'Love Supreme'...the most beautiful album ever made." He admits eliciting some "bad looks" but angrily adds "how can you give 'Love Supreme' bad looks?" Embracing this opportunity I ask: is then "Love Supreme" an original? He elaborates: "there are always influences (if you) put art in a historical context...look at it in the context of the time. (One should) try to be original in work not by trying to escape influences but by mixing influences.

In Lost Heroes we see such a mix. Set in modern day Portugal Lost Heroes follows a young man's return to his birthplace from whence he escaped as a boy with his mother, so many years before in the heat of the 1974 "non-violent" revolution. It flirts, sometimes dangerously, with such themes as racism, social discontent, family "history," and the so called Americanization of Europe. There even is an attempt at a musical sub-text, which explores "free jazz" His film presents itself like a monologue, and he suggests that in "maintaining a monologue with (the) audience" he hopes to "develop dialogue(s)" between people.

"I know that it was a military coup that overthrew a fascist government ...and I know it was a communist government that took power after the coup...I know 'things'...I know generalizations...I didn't want to deal on the politics of the past 25 years of Portuguese history...I wanted to deal with people...and racism...I wanted to deal with things that I see that are evident to me when I visit, and I visit quite bit...because my family lives there still. Originally I didn't want to mention Portugal...in the whole film. I don't feel like this is a film about Portugal... I feel the issues are universal... the issues I am dealing with, they are anchored in Portugal...(and) because of the historical context that it appears in, I wanted to make the film as graphic as possible."

Additionally, despite the fact that Rocha has captured so gracefully the raw beauty of Portugal, ethnic celebrations, and cultural traditions, the filmmaker mixes this sense of beauty with the angry sub-themes and graphic imagery. Although mystified, and yet cinematically fulfilled, the viewer remains unclear as to the point of the film. This is, however, not altogether unsatisfying. Questioning Rocha brings no clear answers either. He seems to relish this typical audience member response. Rocha remains as challenging in an interview as his film does in intent, offering only this: "(You) need to challenge your audience and teach them new things, and open their eyes..."

Opened eyes, indeed. Lost Heroes can sometimes be very uncomfortable to watch, with intensely graphic scenes such as the traditional-style slaughter of a pig, to the race motivated throat slitting of a black immigrant. I suggested that this is a sample of the trouble I had with the film's use of multiple imagery... imagery that seemed to be disjointed or unrelated, although powerful. Says Rocha: "they were not put in there so much as realities, as much as metaphors...the film is Cinema Verité...it was (supposed) to be like walking down the street, images everywhere...even though a lot of those images don't mix, that's sort of life...that is, life is not about linearity...things happen to you all of a sudden...I think everything is important...and sometimes nothing is important...it's not even like anything goes; I think everything goes."

The film embraces this philosophy. The aforementioned graphical images are often juxtaposed, however, with stunning cinematography, a sometimes rejuvenating jazz accompaniment, and quaintly familiar scenes reflecting the joy of family and community. One feels like he or she is watching a series of paintings that do not relate in subject. Rocha packs his film with such imagery. "Just like Godard said in the 60s, when he said he was going to put Vietnam I every film he makes...I am going to put East Timor in every film I make...I don't even care if it doesn't fit." Rocha makes it "fit" however, and remains consistent in his use of collaging images.

Technically the film is also a mix. Although primarily shot in Super 16, a captivating Super 8 childhood sequence and a brief video segment provide an enjoyable mélange. It somehow works, in light of the multiple themes. Rocha claims to have had little troubles shooting overseas, and in light of this I found myself impressed with his use of the varying media formats. The use of black and white and colour, and sometimes curious camera angles (a shot of the two main characters running through a rural landscape is shot from the perspective of the blades of field grass) is refreshing.

The Portuguese setting and content is not lost on a western audience, as the film looks at life from the eyes of a westernized ex-patriot. The film does appear to be a Portuguese social statement however, one focused on the now of Portugal in light of its history. Through its main characters we experience the anger and joy of a childhood couple at odds by circumstance, and this does reflect Portugal's awkward transition. However, I get the impression that this film is more about the filmmaker himself. Rocha states that the "film is like my frame of mind today...what is in this film right now, these are the issues that I am thinking about today." Whether there is a connection to his own family emigration to Canada in the film, Rocha was not specific. However, when pressed on this suggested personal theme, Rocha states: "You can't go home...I think it's very dangerous...(corrects himself) I think it's potentially dangerous to return somewhere, where you weren't made welcome in the first place."

Rocha has similar sentiments to express about trying to make a living as a filmmaker in Canada. He expresses his frustration very diplomatically, and points out the positives in his life. "My friends are really strong...open to people's opinions...I am really happy I have been able to surround myself with people like that. I haven't lost friends because of my honesty and they haven't lost me because of their honesty." He and his wife Trish have had their share of the professional "run around." His sentiments? "Don't depend on other people...find any means possible of getting your work done...I think Trish and I did it, and we're going to pay the consequences financially...but at least we did it...we never regret it...I'm really proud of that...I don't care how many festivals reject it...we've got a beautiful film here."

Rocha and his wife make a powerful team, and he is very direct in establishing this. On Trish he offers simply this: "You asked who is my single greatest influence? There you go. I am the luckiest man on earth. We have a great respect for each other. I think we're very open to each other...we're very honest...and we discuss everything...Communication is the most important ...we both come out of broken families, (and) I think we realize that the most important thing in a relationship is conversation...maintaining an open dialogue...I feel the same way about art."

So what sort of dialogue has Lost Heroes opened? In search of this amidst a two hour Rocha-style collage of ideas, I believe I learned just what. I asked if an artist's work could even be theorized about. Rocha responded that the "artist knows his work better than anyone else...(and) I would love to hear the artist theorize their own work." Later in the interview, however, he paradoxically states "I wish I knew myself better...or maybe I am happy I don't know myself that well...I don't think you ever want to know yourself completely, and I don't think you ever want anybody else to know yourself completely." Given the manner in which Lost Heroes mirrors Rocha's all too familiar dichotomy, open dialogues will no doubt ensue.

Adam Basquill is a sometimes writer, actor, and self-styled spiritualist living in Toronto.