I started working on dance films in 2008, when I made my debut film Breath in collaboration with director-photographer Mika Ailasmäki. The film follows how ‘Kati’ (me) quits smoking, with ‘Miss Roi’ commenting on the progress of the project as ‘Kati’s’ ideal muse. The concept of the film was simple: withdrawal symptoms were soothed by dancing at bus stops and lung clearance was measured by cessation exercises. For my debut film, I wanted to take on board the laws of filmmaking and, in particular, the ability of editing to move between different levels. I was not yet familiar with the art form, but I immediately realised that film was a natural form of communication for me.
Now, 15 years later and after ten years of working with Loikka, organising the dance film festival, producing more than 20 short films and training new creators in the field, I can say that I have become quite familiar with the art form. I work on my films as a writer, director, choreographer, editor and producer. I don’t usually like to wear all these hats all the time and I really enjoy working with other choreographers.
It is about communication and seeking connection
Whether my creative work starts with an idea, a theme or a topic, my questions are:
What does this communicate? What themes are involved?
What does this have to do with the world we live in?
Why do I have to tell about this?
I explore the themes of the work from many different angles to find the best ways to communicate it. And since my genre is short film, I also try to find the most ecological way to convey the message in my work, using layering. After all, I’m dealing with dance, which is an excellent medium for conveying emotions and, especially complex themes in film.
With my works, I always seek some kind of connection with the viewer. Therefore, how and what my works communicate is important to me. However, the viewer will make their own interpretation of the work based on their own experience in life. There is an inherent need to understand, categorise or analyse in some way what we experience. To form some kind of understanding of the experience, to explain the work in some way. For example, when we look at a pair of images of an empty plate and a person we immediately form a bridge between these two images. How we understand the causal relationship between the images is coloured by our own history of experience. One may interpret a person as starving while another thinks of him as full.
I am very conscious of this when I make my choices. Yet I know that I will never be able to control the interpretations of all the viewers, and to be honest, I don’t even find it interesting. But it is interesting when a work is interpreted in a very different way. Then a dialogue begins and something new can emerge, which broadens the understanding between people.
The film is very linear in its narrative and modern human has become a skilled interpreter of films. The connection between the images is quickly established, inconsistencies in the narrative are immediately apparent and expectations for an emotionally moving, smooth viewing experience are high. Understanding the laws of cinematic narrative is therefore, in my opinion, an important skill to acquire when making dance films. Dance as an abstract element already brings its own different level to the film narrative. While objects, words, expressions and environments communicate on a very concrete level, dance communicates differently. It hardly communicates at the level of cognition, but much of the message is achieved through bodily sensations and memories of experiences. Through kinesthetic empathy, dance can speak directly to the emotional level in a fairly unobtrusive way.
Example 1.
The character in the film cuts his finger on the edge of a sheet of paper – we flinch the event before even thinking about the pain
Example 2.
The person instinctively puts their finger in their mouth and grimaces – we smile, because we are familiar with the experience. We can even taste the aromas of the finger on our tongue. The body remembers.
Identification with the situation happens quickly and emotions are generated. I have thought a lot about this bodily identification in dance. I often find myself wondering whether everyone can identify with the physical performance of a dancer. I have a background as a professional dancer and although I no longer actively dance, I can identify with the top performances of dancers in my body. It is as if I can experience their movements in my body and thus get ‘inside’ their dance. My body receives the message without thinking about the experience. I receive the message a bit like listening to music. When I listen to music, I rarely examine and analyse its structures, individual melodies or rhythms, or look for meaning in them. Music is experienced and does not need to be explained. So for me, watching dance is not only a visual and aesthetic event, it is also a bodily experience. Is this also the case for a spectator who has never held his feet at more than 90° or done those numerous pirouette exercises before finding good balance? Or will the experience remain as a visual admiration of skill?
Probably both. But for me, more important and more interesting than the brilliant performance is what the dance says or communicates. And how I combine these complementary art forms, film and dance, into an organic independent work.
MAKING OF SININEN 01: KATI KALLIO – MAKING OF PHOTOS FROM THE SININEN (THE BLUE). GEN Z PROJECT WITH DANCE GROUP IHANAT – DANCER: VAPPU VIRKKULA – CINEMATOGRAPHER: MIKA AILASMÄKI
About the screenwriting process
The most common impetus for my projects comes from an idea, born out of encounters with others. Sometimes I am offered a ready-made choreography, which we start to work on together in a cinematic form. Other times, a topic or theme that interests me brings me together with another choreographer. In all cases, the process involves a lot of dance studio training and writing.
I have adopted screenwriting as a tool to develop the dramaturgy of films and to outline the themes that emerge and what the work communicates. I also did this when I was creating stage works, so scriptwriting comes naturally to me. But, dance doesn’t really translate into words, or rather words don’t do justice to what the movement can do, and so alongside the writing I’ve taken up practical exercises in the studio.
In the dance studio, I start working through authentic movement practice or improvisation. In this way I tune myself and open my body to ‘think’. I then settle down to either follow or direct the choreography. In this section, I also shoot video footage just for recording the choreography or testing a filming technique. This footage becomes part of the script that we use to communicate within the working group. Of course it is largely a question of resources how much of this can be done, but for the fluidity of communication within the working group it has been significant and I hold on to that opportunity as much I can.
Once funding has been secured, a script mostly written and video material (sometimes just reference videos) of the future work is ready, we meet with the rest of the team (cinematographer, sound designer, composer, costume designer, set designer). We go through the existing material, develop it further and start planning the realisation. This phase is one of the most enjoyable. The work begins to become a shared world for the team. As a director, my role is to be the skipper, navigating the project in a crosswind of brilliant ideas from the designers, so that everyone is working on the same piece.
Four times choreography
Sometimes the choreography for my dance films is created in four parts: 1) in imagination 2) in the rehearsal room 3) on the locations and 4) on the editing table.
The first ideas happens in my imagination as three-dimensional sensations and images. In my first written sketches I may describe quite precisely the relationship between movement and camera. So before choreographing, I imagine the dance as different images, in different frames or angles, with or without a moving camera. In this way I outline the physical sensation I’m aiming for in each scene. In addition to writing, I also draw a lot of squares with little dancing stick-figures in them. In this way I begin to outline the broad lines, the rhythm and the dramaturgy of the work.
In the second stage, in the rehearsal room, I first start to build the choreography with the choreographer or/and the dancers. We test how the choreography works through the camera. I shoot video and analyse the images until the choreography is at a stage to invite the actual cinematographer. I always work with a professional cinematographer and, depending on resources, we rehearse and explore the relationship between movement and image over several days. It’s an exploration of description, visuals and narrative, a search for the best choices and an important part of building the relationship between photographer and director. I’m interested in how the relationship between image and movement is built organically, without either being subservient to the other. How dance and image create the best possible joint expression to serve the themes and messages of the work. The choreography must relate to the story or theme of the work, depending on the way the subject is treated. I avoid just documenting the dance for film, but seek the right cinema narration to convey the desired message by the right way of shooting dance, which can also mean that the storytelling is not always nessesity.
Often the choreographic work starts before the locations are known. Once they are found, it is important to visit and rehearse in the location, as the environment often shapes the choreography. At this stage, the choreography is adapted to the environment and only then are the shooting plans made. Sometimes, at this stage, it is noticed that an element of the environment (the ground, the architecture, etc.) influences the choreography. I consider this stage to be absolutely essential for the smooth running of the shoot.
MAKING OF SININEN 01, 02 & 03: KATI KALLIO – MAKING OF PHOTOS FROM THE SININEN (THE BLUE). GEN Z PROJECT WITH DANCE GROUP IHANAT.DANCERS: VAPPU VIRKKULA, ELISA LEJEUNE, RIINA HANNUKSELA – CINEMATOGRAPHER: MIKA AILASMÄKI
The fourth choreographic stage takes place on the editing table. I edit most of my films myself. It is both challenging and rewarding. In addition to sitting for hours on end, you have to tolerate your own critical evaluation. It’s at this stage that the mistakes and shortcomings of the shoot are revealed. As the writer and often choreographer of my films, I have accumulated vast amounts of memory and information about the process and I am easily blinded by the material. Editing is therefore a process that involves a lot of painful ‘kill your darlings’ choices. Sometimes even the choreography can be rewritten if the rhythm just doesn’t flow right. You have to be brave and surrender to the editing process. You have to go against the grain, get lost in the woods and believe that the goals and objectives you created at the beginning will guide your work.
Choreographer Alpo Aaltokoski encouraged me as a young choreographer, when I was agonising over the change from the original plan: “Trust that this new form will reflect the process of the work, the journey and all the history of the work. The elements are there, even if they don’t appear in concrete and the form is different.”
Making a dance film is a long process and there are many stages along the way to hear what it suggest. It forces me to keep an open mind and trust mine intuition. And Aaltokoski’s advice continues to spur me on.
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First photo: Breath: Heli Sorjonen. Preliminary photos taken from deputations film Breath (2008). Performer: Kati Kallio.