Nothing to breathe: How I shot a movie in Antarctica
In April, the premiere of the documentary film"Lake Vostok. The backbone of madness." It tells about the subglacial Antarctic Lake Vostok and how polar explorers managed to penetrate it. The lake is considered unique, for many years it was isolated from the atmosphere of the Earth. Perhaps there is life in it, and biological organisms in it could evolve according to other laws.
Director Ekaterina Eremenko worked on the film for a total of eighteen years and went to the Russian Antarctic station Vostok for filming, where she was the only woman in the men's team for more than a month. We talked with Ekaterina about how the shooting took place under extreme conditions, about the life of polar explorers and what the experience gave her.
Trailer for the film "Lake East. Spine of Madness"
I studied at the Physics and Mathematics School and at the Mechanics and Mathematics Faculty of Moscow State University — I graduated with a red diploma. I started to graduate school, but after the family tragedy (my mother died in a car accident) took a sabbatical. At the same time, I was invited to work as a model - I was very tall and thin. I thought, "Why not? I will try for a couple of months and then return to the university." But I was dragged out, it began to turn out, and I had been doing this professionally for almost seven years: I worked with Western agencies, shot for the best magazines — Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, went to the podiums. At the end of a career, many models want to become photographers or magazine editors. I dreamed of becoming a director - then it sounded as strange as if I had said that I was going to space. Nevertheless, I entered VGIK, Marlene Hutsiev took me on his course; He specifically recruited those who already have a higher education.
In parallel with my studies, I worked as a TV presenter. It was an excellent program “Timelessly”: we had complete freedom of action and I am very grateful to the people who did it with me. Some reports then grew into big films, like, for example, my debut Russian Canary. The work in Vremechka was to see stories where others do not see them, to find drama in what is happening around. Once we were invited to a canary singing contest - nothing special. But when I arrived there, I saw that there were only men in the hall, there were no women. Tenors of canaries, too, only males, females do not sing. I wondered what was going on in the families of canar-male men — that was how the idea of the film arose. He became my pass to the industry. VGIK is a great school, but unfortunately it is far from practice. At first, I shot almost everything in the West.
Then the materials about Lake Vostok caught my eye. I began to meet with heroes who had to do with him - including the remarkable polar explorer Zotikov, who first guessed about the existence of the lake, with the biologist Abuzov. I am happy that after eighteen years the dream of making a movie about it became a reality and the project was brought to the cinema - sometimes it seemed that this would never happen. I started studying the lake in 1999. When I worked in television, I used my official position: I offered the topic to the editors, they gave me an operator and we shot reports. Not a single shot of this long-term film shoot has entered. Then there was a period when I went to St. Petersburg several times, met with people who deal with this topic, some of this came into the film. And after we became friends with the operator Pavel Kostomarov, who several times traveled with me to film the return of polar explorers from Antarctica.
When I started making the film, the drilling was stopped because the world community was afraid that the Russian expedition could pollute the lake.(Lake Vostok is a unique ecosystem, isolated from the rest of the world by a four-kilometer layer of ice. - Ed.). Then I thought that the film would be very political, that it would talk about these negotiations. Then the drilling was resumed. At some point (I had been working as a director for quite a while) at the conference, I brought together the chief editor of the documentary film of the First Channel, a representative of the Discovery channel and a German editor. In my presence, they almost shook hands and were ready to make a film - but the problem is that nature cannot be controlled. Everyone wanted to get into the lake, but no one knew when it would be possible - whatever the funding, no matter what kind of boss they ordered you. The penetration was postponed all the time - all this time I patiently collected material and became acquainted with the heroes.
When my first film came out, there were discussions: should a documentary director interfere if someone is killed before your very eyes? Or should he be like a fly on a wall? For me, it's not a question at all.
Finally, when the polar explorers were close to the goal, I bought cameras, gave them to the staff, and agreed that they themselves would shoot. In the first year, nothing outstanding happened, but the next year we were lucky: the first penetration into the lake happened. The polar explorers later told us that they used these video materials for their calculations. When we went to the expedition, we were not sure that we would remove the second penetration - nothing could have happened. But at least we already had something that we could show. There were also funny cases - for example, they advised me to give the camera to one polar video-enthusiast who makes good films. When I arrived to pick up the materials, they told me that they had lost him - they forgot in Cape Town.
I think that the education of VGIK (I immediately began to make documentaries, although I studied at the game cinema) gave me the confidence that it was not scary to direct the process, to intervene in the situation. In "Lake Vostok" there are fragments, where you can see a serious directing influence. At the premiere was a girl who was in Antarctica, but not in the "East". She said: "How cool, you had a lecture on the ship - we did not have this." I organized such things myself. When my first film came out, there were discussions: should a documentary director interfere if someone is killed before your very eyes? Or should he be like a fly on a wall, shoot life as it is, by observation? For me, this is not a question at all. I deal with real people, but interfering with the situation and doing what you need is not a taboo.
It is very interesting for me to look for new formats in films about scientists. I am interested in the people themselves: the way we live now, what we have, appeared due to their work. The problem is that the genre of scientific cinema is so old that documentaries have long been making standard films: here are the standard interviews, but the scientist who broadcasts the truth as an oracle. Such films have the right to exist, but they are very tired of them. I try to think innovatively - for example, now I shot "Whispers of string theory." I was asked to make a movie about the conference. How can you make a film about the conference, where most people do not understand a word? I came up with this approach: scientists, speaking at speakers, whispering to me what was really going on.
In "Lake Vostok" I do not just talk about what happened in Antarctica. In order to give the story depth and at the same time carefully treat the work of scientists, not to exaggerate expectations, I introduced a second line - about the un-filmed Hollywood film adaptation of Lovecraft's Ridges of Madness; The book talks about traveling to Antarctica. Although the writer died in the thirties of the last century, Lovecraft incredibly predicted some things that happened much later - including what happened at Vostok station.
Traditionally, the Russian expedition goes to Antarctica aboard the Akademik Fedorov. This is a fantastic vessel with a great history. I was on it before I started making the film, with my husband and children - just to go to this ship, to see the conditions in which people live there. We flew to Cape Town and waited there for the ship, because of the accident, we stayed there for several days. On the ship, we reached Antarctica, at some point fleeing from an iceberg, because there was a dangerous ice situation. We were carrying three helicopters and an airplane with us - it turns out that it is then assembled in parts.
At first we approached the Molodezhnaya station - when perestroika began, it was frozen. Then they went to the station "Progress", one of the most modern - it supports the station "Vostok". From Progress, we flew by plane to Vostok. The whole trip took about three months. There is a very complicated logistics: it is impossible to leave ahead of time. We were abandoned at the station in December, and we returned at the end of January. I was not sure that we would survive - no one gave guarantees.
I heard many stories that people could not acclimatize and had to be evacuated. I read that the Vostok station is one of the most complex, but I thought that people were exaggerating. It turned out not: there really is very difficult to be because of the highlands. At first my teeth were chattering, my temperature was rising, and my head was splitting. The scientist Vladimir Lipenkov, who has been going to this station for seasonal work since the late seventies, told me that the first weeks also felt bad. I read that the highlands and the lack of oxygen can affect the psyche: depression begins, a severe emotional state.
Maybe it was a bad day for me, but I adapted easily - I do a lot of sports. There is a law in the "East": when you arrive, you should not even take your things to the station - people who already live there will help you. When I arrived, I immediately went to meet people - polar explorer Volodya Zubkov then advised me not to strain and for good reason: for the first two hours I felt fine, and then covered me. You are so bad that you can't force yourself to open the box. In some people, this condition lasts two or three days. Then the lack of oxygen manifests itself just in shortness of breath - all the time you do not have enough air. During our trip, about two weeks after arriving, I tried to run a little, slowly, jogging, but then I felt that I shouldn’t - there really wasn’t enough to take care of myself.
Extreme conditions, of course, change the process of filming. When I looked at the material, I thought: "How is it, why are we so removed?" On the other hand, understanding the conditions in which we shot, I can not blame anyone, because everything was bad
The station must be maintained in working condition all the time. It requires eleven or twelve people, each has their own profession. These people are replaced once a year: they are brought and taken away in December. Some winterers stay for another season and spend more than a year there. Seasonal works last as we drove: they arrive at the station in December and leave at the beginning of February - a little more than a month. As a rule, scientists with their programs come for seasonal work, but do not stay for wintering: they rarely can afford to take a year off from science and go to Antarctica, they need a connection with the world. But some scientists and drillers are also at wintering - although not often.
I was completely unprepared that the entire station was under the snow. People live in holes, you go to the station through a snow tunnel. In the room where we lived, there were no windows, she was like a submarine. For me, it was also a shock. There are domestic difficulties. At the station there is one toilet, no shower - there is a bath, which is made once a week. I went to wash water from the dipper several times a week. But the conditions were better than I thought. Wet wipes occupied half of my suitcase, but it turned out that they were not needed. True, the clothes in which I was at the rig had to be thrown out, because there everything smells like kerosene - and this smell cannot be washed off.
Polar explorers have many amazing stories. For example, the head of the station, Turkeev, said that they had to defrost the station: when it stands without people for a year, it is very difficult to bring it back to working condition. They miscalculated with the fuel and had to survive a month without heat: they saved energy and included a small diesel engine for an hour to cook food. They waited for December to come new shift with fuel. Polar explorers have a saying: “People are healthy, the equipment is working” - it’s not at all customary to complain.
When people go to winter, they are going to learn languages and do other things. During the season, everyone works from morning to evening: this is the only time when it is more or less warm and something can be done. I took the books with me, but, of course, it was not possible to open them: we either slept exhausted or worked. Insulation is felt very strongly. Now the Internet has appeared on the station, but it is very weak, there is a queue for a single computer all the time.
If something happens to a person, it is difficult to evacuate even during the season. Three planes fly to the station: we were specially taken on the second one so that we could take us back if we were not acclimatized. I did not want to brag about the project ahead of time, because I didn’t know how long we could last. Extreme conditions, of course, change the process of filming. When I looked at the material, I thought: "How is it, why are we so removed?" On the other hand, understanding the conditions in which we shot, I can not blame anyone, because everything was bad. As for technology, the main work concerned preparation: it was necessary to think over what we take with us - on the one hand, we should save space, on the other - we understood that nobody would help us, and if we forget something, then forget it completely.
I was the only woman on the station. This also imposed certain psychological limitations. Polar explorers even have a law: women should not be at the station. But I can't do my job without them, I need to communicate with them. However, it seems to me that they treated me with respect. In the end, everything turned out, although it was not always all smooth.
When we shot the second penetration into the lake, I decided that I wanted to visually "pull up" the scene. In the film you can see that the polar explorers have a very old technique, almost the fifties, old walls, no one pays attention to aesthetics. But cinema is a visual art, and I wanted something special. The operator and I, in our own way, prepared for penetration: I took a sheet, sewed a curtain from it, we even painted some things, cleaned up. We tried to make the situation more special at the expense of the world. Very often, the drillers told me that because of the movie, I could stop them - this was also such a confrontation: if the light is too bright, it may not comply with safety regulations. I had to find a compromise: in no case do not behave like a spoiled cinematographer and not interfere with them during filming.
Polar explorers even have a law: women should not be at the station. But I can't do my job without them, I need to communicate with them. However, it seems to me that they treated me with respect
The temperature was about minus thirty degrees. Near the station the sun shines brightly, there is no darkness. When we returned from “Vostok” to “Progress”, it was not the temperature that made the biggest impression on me, but what was dying - I realized that I had completely lost the habit of this state. In the "East" you can get out at midnight, and the bright sun will shine. I was also greatly impressed by a visit to the oldest Russian station in Antarctica — it was later used as a film store. When we arrived at this station, we saw shelves with reels with Soviet films - this is a whole story. Many films, perhaps, are no longer in sight, and there they are and are preserved - and at this temperature they will probably be stored forever.
Now the main work on the "East", unfortunately, stopped. The station is being held, there are wintering workers, but this year a very small detachment was sent there - only eight people. In the volume in which it was before, when thirty-five people came to Vostok, unfortunately, this is not yet. For me, this is a drama: here is a whole school, and if the link between generations is broken now, it will be almost impossible to restore it again. Stopping such projects is a crime, even though it is a very tough word. I think the whole thing in financing. We have five stations, Vostok is one of them, but 40% of the funding goes to it, because it is not on the coast, it’s difficult to deliver everything there, and it costs more than other coast stations.
It was very important for me to bring this project to the end - despite all the difficulties with financing, production, producers, rentals, it was possible. I really hope that the film will be seen by someone who can help this project and the Russian Antarctic expedition.
Photo: press service of the studio. M. Gorky
