Palm Springs International FF 2019: ‘Birds of Passage’
Directed by Cristina Gallego and Ciro Guerra, filmmakers of ‘Embrace of the Serpent’, the first Colombian film ever to be nominated for an Oscar®, comes ‘Birds of Passage’ / ‘Pajaros de Verano’.
Interviews with Christina Gallego and Ciro Guerra
A sprawling epic about the erosion of tradition in pursuit of material wealth, a a native Wayúu family in the mountains of Colombia discovers that only as long as they adhere to the matriarch’s dictates according to their oral traditions, they will prosper.
Set in 1970s Colombia among the Wayúu indigenous people, this mystical epic centers on Rapayet, a man torn between the desire to be powerful and his duty to uphold his culture’s values. Ignoring ancient omens, his tribe enters the drug trafficking business getting caught up in a conflict where honor is the highest currency and debts are paid with blood.
In three generations the ancient wisdom rooted in mythology is demythified from the exotic to the crass vulgarity of the nouveau riche.
The major surprise of this film is that it traces the origins of the Colombian drug trade from simply getting some marijuana to a hippie American to creating the cocaine trade. In the process, it slowly corrupts a native Wayúu family.
Birds of Passage stars Wayúu descendants Jose Acosta and Carmiña Martínez alongside rising Colombia star Natalia Reyes (of the upcoming Terminatorreboot). It is stunningly shot by longtime collaborator David Gallego (Embrace of the Serpent; I am Not a Witch).
Birds of Passage opened Directors’ Fortnight at the 2018 Cannes Film Festival, where it was met with glowing reviews, and screened at the Telluride, Toronto (as part of the Contemporary World Cinema section), and BFI London film festivals.
The film marks the directorial debut of prolific producer Cristina Gallego, who also produces the film alongside Katrin Pors and takes a Story By credit.
It is the fourth feature film — and fourth to be selected as Colombia’s Official Oscar® entry for Best Foreign Language Film — for co-director Ciro Guerra, who is helming the film adaptation of Nobel laureate J.M. Coetzee’s classic novel Waiting for the Barbarians starring Robert Pattinson, Mark Rylance and Johnny Depp.
The Orchard will release Birds of Passage in North America February 2019. International sales agent, Films Boutique has licensed the film to Interior13 Cine for Mexico, MFA+ Filmdistribution for Germany, Øst for Paradis for Denmark, Diaphana Films for France, Filmarti for Turkey, trigon-film for Switzerland, Mus Kasi / Kino Soprus for Estonia, Academy Two for Italy, Kino Pavasaris for Lithuania, BTeam for Spain.
A coproduction of Colombia | Denmark | Mexico
INTERVIEW WITH CRISTINA GALLEGO from press notes
How was Birds of Passage initially conceived?
We made a movie in northern Colombia called The Wind Journeys (Los viajes del viento) between 2007 and 2008. To make that movie, which was also set in 1968, we lived in that area and we heard stories about the “Bonanza Marimbera.” Suddenly, an unexplored world opened up to us. It was a giant story about the origins of the drug trafficking business, but specifically centered on the “Bonanza Marimbera” — a period between 1968 and 1980. This happened in many northern cities and states of Colombia. We were interested in exploring how in Wayúu society — and the Guajira society that includes everyone in that region whether they are Wayúu or not — this story is told using their traditional codes of conduct and their notions of vengeance under which many families died during that time. We were curious about this untold story that resembled great gangster epics. This all started over 11 years ago for us.
How did the Wayúu people’s culture and traditions influence the screenplay and eventually the production of the film?
We first reached out to the Wayúu people in 2007, but it wasn’t until Maria Camila Arias was working on the screenplay and soaked in all the traditions and information, that we approached them to specifically research the world that constructed Birds of Passage. It was at that point that the project was deeply infused with the cultural universe the Wayúu people inhabit. We wanted to incorporate their rituals and their worldview into the movie.
Another important influence present in the film is the world of Gabriel García Márquez, and more specifically the world he paints in One Hundred Years of Solitude, which is a great tragedy that’s marked by magical realism. We realized that this novel by García Márquez was written using Wayúu imagery and codes. García Márquez’s maternal family and the women that raised him were Wayúu. Wayúu people live in a world where there are a lot of intangible elements. They live in a limbo between dreams and their relationship with the dead. We accessed Wayúu culture from the outside rather than via an ethnographic study.
How did you first approach the Wayúu people to participate in the project?
Our relationship with the Wayúu people was based on negotiations with them. But before we went in to work with the Wayúu communities, we were joined by a large number of Wayúu crew members who comprised 30% of all individuals working on the production below the line. These Wayúu team members also served as the bridge between the Wayúu communities and us. We needed them to understand what this film was about and how we were going to make it, so that they could share that with other members of their communities. On the other hand, they also corrected us and showed us things that we should incorporate into the movie. It was a relationship of mutual learning. We established conditions that were beneficial for them and that also worked for us.
The story begins with a stunning sequence focused on a dance known as La Yonna. What does this ritual represent for the Wayúu?
Since the Wayúu people don’t have a formal form of marriage, they have this ritualistic dance that symbolizes a young woman’s release from confinement and her first encounter with the available men in town. It’s their version of a mating ritual. We saw it performed firsthand and then the actors learned this beautiful dance. For the movie it became the ritual that sets in motion the story and Rafa’s quest to belong to a family.
What does the term “alijuna” mean for the Wayúu people?
“Alijunas” are all of us who don’t have Wayúu blood. All Colombians who don’t have Wayúu blood are “alijunas,” as well as all foreigners. “Alijuna” is the term they use for outsiders — anyone who doesn’t belong to the Wayúu people. Nobody can become Wayúu. If your mother is not Wayúu, you are not considered Wayúu even if your father is. They have very strict codes of conduct within their communities, and even more so when dealing with “alijunas.”
What is the significance of birds in Wayúu culture?
Birds are prophetic for the Wayúu people. They always bring something with them. Reading nature in Wayúu culture is like reading premonitions, birds are specifically associated with this practice. Birds are messengers. In Wayúu mythology birds also symbolize the “pütchipü’ü” or “palabrero,” who is in charge of mediating and solving conflicts. Each bird has a specific meaning. These ideas regarding birds are not specific to the Wayúu, if you look at Babylonian mythology birds were also seen as carriers of ill omens. Even in psychoanalysis, Carl Jung’s theory to interpret supernatural phenomena, birds always appear in relation to death. Some notions surrounding birds are unique to the Wayúu, but they also speak about what these animals mean subconsciously in our minds on a universal level.
Why is it important for Colombians to tell their own stories regarding the issue of drug trafficking?
This story about drug trafficking has often been told from the outside. It has been told mostly through American films and TV shows, rather than from our perspective as Colombians. What we’ve seen is that all these movies and series act as apologists for major criminals. Pablo Escobar, who carried out one of the worst genocides of our history, is suddenly seen as a superhero thanks to a show like Narcos. These stories have been told in gangster films since Scarface and on TV since Miami Vice. These productions often show Colombians as terrorists. Birds of Passage is an answer to the lack of representation of our perspectives on these topics.
INTERVIEW WITH CIRO GUERRA from press notes
How did you become aware of your screenwriters Maria Camila Aria and Jacques Toulemonde Vidal?
We first asked María Camila to write a draft for us while we were away shooting Embrace of the Serpent. We’d known about this story for years and dreamed of making this film for a very long time, but then we felt the time was right and she’s an extremely talented writer who also happens to be really fast and efficient. Her first draft was very good and allowed us to get funding, but as we moved on with the rewrites we felt Jacques’ touch would really elevate the material and give more depth to the characters and their arc. I’m not really much of a writer; I’ve done it in my previous films because I hadn’t found the right partners for the type of stories that attract me. But as the Colombian film industry has expanded in the last few years, there is now a pool of interesting writers that I hope to be able to work with for our next projects.
Why did you decide to shoot the film on 35mm and what does it provide that digital filmmaking doesn’t?
It’s simply a different medium than digital. Film is organic, its images are captured through a chemical process; with digital you are always doing a translation to and from a binary language. The results may be similar, but the feeling is always different; not better or worse, just different. The way images feel means everything in any visual medium, and we wanted the organic, imperfect, alive look of 35mm. When you shoot on film, every image becomes valuable; you only have two or three takes, not 75. It’s a wonderful way of focusing the mind, the cast, the crew; everyone’s work becomes immediately more rigorous. There’s a mystery to it, a risk. Humans are that chemistry, that mystery. There’s no digital way of capturing that. And, in the end, it just looks better.
Tell us about the inspiration for the music and the discussions you had with composer Leonardo Heiblum to create the score?
Besides being a wonderful musician and composer, Leonardo is a great researcher of the music and sounds of indigenous cultures around the world. He has an amazing ability to understand native music and take it to new places, to learn new instruments and ways of playing and bring them to films in a way that expands and enriches their narrative. Wayúu music remains almost completely unexplored. It sounds like nothing you’ve ever heard and yet, it sounds profound and timeless, a song coming from many generations behind. Only an artist of great curiosity and imagination like Leonardo could’ve brought it to fit a film’s score. It was a great challenge, but the result is brand new, completely unique, and different from any soundtrack I’ve ever heard.
What were the challenges and/or joys of directing a story that exists mostly in an indigenous language and not in Spanish?
For me it’s an absolute joy. When you’re directing an actor in a language that’s foreign to you, all you care about is the emotion that’s coming through, not whether the delivery is good or bad; you’re caring for something deeper, a feeling that will come across regardless of culture or language. It’s a brief glimpse into something essential, universal, and I love it.
What was different about working with Cristina this time around as co-directors on this project?
Cristina’s creative input has always had a big impact on our movies. It’s made them better and richer, so it was only natural that for this story that was so personal to her, that she stepped up as a co-director. We made all of the creative decisions together, we decided on everything from the tone to the casting to the colors, and then each one of us executed that vision in a different stage of the process. She was more in charge of the development and editing, I took a more leading role during the production, but we were both everywhere, collaborating like we have always done.
What was the “Bonanza Marimbera” and why did you want to make a film about this time period?
It was the first “boom” of what would eventually become the international drug trade. It’s the origin story, the beginning of the tragedy that would mark our fate as Colombians for decades to come. It was difficult to believe that no film had ever dealt with this period, and we saw in it an opportunity to tell the story from our side, to divert from the sort of exploitative, alienating narrative that has been created about Colombia’s recent history with the cartels and Pablo Escobar and all that. This is not about turning criminals into heroes, but exploring what savage, untamed capitalism has done to our soul, to the spirit of our people.
Tell us a little bit about each of the three main actors in the film and why they were the right fit for their roles: Natalia Reyes, Jose Acosta, Carmiña Martínez.
Carmiña is from La Guajira, she’s spent 30 years onstage as one of the country’s greatest theater performers, but she had never made a film before. She has that strong gaze, that proud way of standing that characterizes Wayúu women you can feel that arid land in her presence. It was a dream role for her; it meant going back to her roots, her history and retrieving it, it was such a profound personal experience. She took it on with all her passion and discipline. It was tough but that made it incredibly rewarding.
Natalia is not a Wayúu, but she’s one of the few actresses who can play a character at both 15 and 30. This was an immense challenge, the biggest one I can think of for an actor, to believably play an indigenous person in their natural setting, literally in front of them. I was amazed at her level of discipline and dedication; she learned all the rituals, the language she lived every second of it. Her Wayuunaiki is perfect. When they saw the film, the Wayúu people couldn’t believe she wasn’t one of them for real. That’s the highest praise I can imagine.
Jose is normally a comedian; he is so different from Rapayet that many people around me wondered if he would be able to pull it off. It was a total transformation, almost a possession happening in front of us. Jose went through a very profound journey, connecting to his roots, retracing his personal history, which he had strayed away from, his family’s history; we made a big bet on him at the beginning and it paid off enormously, more than I could have imagined.
