DISCLAIMER - THIS INTERVIEW HAS SPOILERS
Questions for Stefanos Sitaras, director of The Rocket
- (1) In my blog, I consider how your film engages with “post-modernism”, more specifically, with the exploration of social disaffection and existential angst particular to the 2010s. I would be very interested in learning more about your views regarding the current socio-economic state of Greece and the modern world which seem to me to set the tone for The Rocket. What about the setting of contemporary Greece interests you as a filmmaker?
I’ve always believed that a good film isn’t something you make, it’s something you find. Sometimes you have to look hard for it, others you just have to pay attention to what’s around you. Telling this story, in this country, and selecting this group of kids, came very naturally.
I walked into a house, and there they all were: Ari, Stathis, and the rest of them. I visited by chance, through a common acquaintance, and introduced myself by name and vocation: “Stefanos Sitaras, filmmaker, pleased to meet you.” I sat on a couch and observed them for hours. We ordered food, played board games, bickered back and forth about politics and so on, until they finally got to it- “if you’re a storyteller, then you haveto hear Stathis’s story about the rocket,” someone said. What story? What rocket? Stathis who? I was already getting bored and was starting to swat flies that weren’t there. So, I welcomed a bit of story-time; little did I know that my life would change forever, and I would spend the next 5 years in pursuit of that story. Stathis started to speak: his tone was confident, his posture calm, and his eyes playful. And yet, no one believed him. They all mocked him and laughed at him. “No wayyou’ve seen a top-secret rocket, and no way you can sell pictures of it for millions.” And yet, he calmly deflected all their attacks, with a certain suaveness carried only by the world’s best bluffers: “Of course youwouldn’t know about it, they don’t disclose the makes of top-secret rockets to just anyone.”
Two things happened to me that night. One was obvious: I realized there’s a movie here. The spontaneity with which the kids speak, their trivial conflicts and their back-and-forth squabble was like music to my ears. It was like walking into Aaron Sorkin’s head. I immediately grabbed a camera and started filming them, and didn’t stop for 5 years, until I had my answers: does the rocket exist? Is Stathis telling the truth? Why do I care so much?
The second thing found its way to the surface way later. And you pointed to it in your blog very accurately: why do we have such difficulty believing? We’ve all gone through failures, disappointments, and defeats, and I suppose we all have some right to be cynical (isn’t this what post-modernism is all about? Challenging the truth of our grand narratives?). However, here comes a character who claims to have experienced something more. And instead of embracing him, we mock him, we reject him, and we discredit him. Why? Would it be such a shock to our life-structure that someone dares to live differently? I didn’t get it then, and I still don’t get it now. I didn’t necessarily choose my film’s environment to be contemporary Greece (that sort of happened) but I did choose for the backdrop of the story to be the apathetic and disillusioned youth. So, there we have a universal shape: the believer, thrown amongst a collective of doubters. The film may be Greek, but I tried my best to make these themes universal. I don’t know if the apathy of youth is a result of our current social-economic conditions, or if youth was and always will be jaded and idealistic. I’ve only experienced youth once, and now that I’m sort of done, I want to believe that people are quickly dispensing of relativism and returning back to meaning. Or maybe I’m also just an optimistic believer along a collective of doubters. What I know for sure is what I knew back then, as I walked out of that house, enwrapped in a feeling of excitement and pure elation: this story has to be told, and urgently.
- (2) Throughout the film I’ve noticed that Stathis’ obsession with the Rocket is linked to his arrogance, and to his constant need for validation within his social circle. Aris' connection to the Rocket is also multi-layered. Could you elaborate on the metaphor of what the Rocket symbolizes for both Stathis and Aris? The dedication of the film to your father who believed Stathis's tale of the Rocket is also very telling.
For Stathis, I believe the rocket means social validation. I don’t think I’m giving anything away by saying that’s at the forefront of the narrative. For Ari it’s a bit more complicated. Ari starts as a non-believer, but quietly and methodically takes on the most desperate hunt for truth. Towards the end, he needs to believe. I intended for the structure to be a bit like Ridley Scott’s Alien. You never quite know who the protagonist is, until they are all killed one by one, and Sigourney Weaver remains. Christopher Nolan did the same, quite intelligently, in the opening of Dunkirk. We see a group of Tommys running for their lives, as the enemy opens fire. They are all killed but one, our Tommy, the protagonist. From that moment on, our brain highlights him. There must be something archetypal about the “survivor” and I love it when stories reveal their hero by a process of elimination. I had the same plan with Ari; he starts off as one with the group, and then one by one as they all leave, he stays alone, on the hunt for the rocket. By default, he is our hero. By default, we’ll believe his testimony more than others’, because he is the one who remains.
- (3) Since the film was shot with entirely non-actors, what were the biggest challenges when communicating with the actors to get the shots and deliver the emotion you wanted? Also could you speak on how you came to this decision and how it dictates the style of the film?
This decision came naturally upon meeting this group of friends. After all, who better to play Stathis than Stathis himself? Someone said that every person on Earth is talented and qualified enough to play one role, that of himself (but no more). So, the challenge was to discover the limits of that, push these kids to extremes and get them to places they hadn’t been before, and observe them act, and react, in socially demanding situations. I’ll tell you one my favorite stories from filming. During the flirting scene between Stathis and Anne-Marie (where a lot of grey areas are entered, and many lines are crossed) this was my method of communicating with them. I pulled Anne-Marie aside, and directed her not to kiss him: “You don’t like him, he’s a pompous arrogant dick who just wants to brag about you to his friends. Reject all his advances, and whatever you do, never ever kiss him.” Then I pulled Stathis aside, and told him that no matter what, he should definitely kiss her: “Dude, dial up your charm to 11. I need your maximum powers of seduction, and I need you to not give up until you get the kiss.” I stepped aside, quickly set-up the shot, and I didn’t even say “action,” I simply said “go ahead,” and watched it all happen. I swear it was the most intense two minutes as a director, because I had no idea of the outcome – I didn’t care really. I became an audience member, being seduced by the confusion and the charisma of these two wonderful performers.
- (4) I found that the film was a particularly realist film, and I was wondering if this is an accurate assessment?—and assuming that style beckons to you— what interests you about realism and/or why do you think realism is important?
You are absolutely right. Reality gets a bad rep, and it is often conflated with boredom. It took me a long time to finally stand in awe of reality and surrender all my faculties to it. I was caught up (like many filmmakers) in “movie logic.” How characters are supposed to speak and behave, how certain events are supposed to unfold, how certain story beats have to be hit, and so on.
Don’t forget that I was also never properly introduced to reality: I grew up with a health condition which prevented me from freely mingling with other kids, until a much later age. I spent my time observing them from afar, interpreting them, trying to understand them; reality became “their reality.” Even now, being with people feels like an exception- the norm is still for me to spend time alone, writing or editing at home.
I remember the shift, it was in 2014, right as I had turned 24, after a long and ultimately unsuccessful adventure with some Greek producers, looking for my next project. I discovered the cinema of Abbas Kiarostami (arguably the greatest filmmaker of all time). I saw Close-Upon a Wednesday night on my laptop, and everything changed. “A film can do that?” I asked, transfixed. Then came Where is My Friend’s Home, the superbly meta Life And Nothing More, and the mesmerizingTaste of Cherry.
Nothing gives me more joy than to discover the filmography of a master whose work I was previously unacquainted with. The opening scene of Like Someone in Lovealone is a masterclass in realist cinema, and the entirety of The Wind Will Carry Usis a hypnotic ode to plain, unembellished reality. In Certified Copythere is a 25-minute scene of two people driving in a car talking about NOTHING! It felt so…right. So comforting, so reassuring that someone out there makes movies about these timid moments in between the grandeur.
So I asked myself: can you completely disregard the three-act-structure, the hero’s journey, the story beats, thematic dialogue, the spectacle, and the and so on? Can you really just mount a camera on a car and observe two people talk? Yes, absolutely, and at the same time, no. Well…it’s complicated. Reality can be what it was always meant to be: a starting point. Where you take it from there is up to you. Film theory and perhaps certain films themselves may impose a sort of tyranny upon the young filmmaker: only write about topics that are extraordinary and universal. There is merit to that, but it also comes with a B-side: observe life around you. And pay attention to what moves you. You may find what you’re looking for not in some grand episode of life, but in a quiet moment, too quiet for others to see, waiting for you to stand still and capture it. Maybe that’s where your masterpiece is hiding- around you, all the time. And since we’re on the topic of belief, remember what Jung said: “Modern people can’t find God because they aren’t looking low enough.”