At this year's Tokyo International Film Festival, Azerbaijani filmmaker Hilal Baydarov stands out as one of the most distinguished directors in the competition. Recognized for his film In Between Dying at the 77th Venice Film Festival, Baydarov has received awards at prestigious international festivals such as Locarno, Sarajevo, Nyon, and Tokyo.
Sermon to the Birds, the second installment of the War Trilogy, premiered in Tokyo, continuing the narrative of its predecessor. (The first installment of his war trilogy, Sermon to the Fish, his latest work, was also screened at Busan International Film Festival last year) The War Trilogy originated from the conflict between Azerbaijan and Armenia, inspired by Baydarov's grandfather, a World War II veteran. His exposure to war stories from a young age fueled a desire to explore and translate these narratives into cinematic imagery.
Believing that there is a single best angle for every scene and that he struggles to find the "answer," we talked to Hilal Baidarov about his journey in making Sermon to the Birds.
An Artistic Odyssey: From Mathematics to Cinema
Good to see you. You're a bit unfamiliar to our readers in Korea. Could you tell us something about yourself?
I was born in 1987. I studied Mathematics and Computer Science, and I also pursued piano during my high school years. (He was a National Math Olympiad winner two years in a row (2004-2005))
Later, I transitioned to the field of Cinema and studied in Sarajevo. Now I’ve created my 10th film, which premiered here in Tokyo.
You’ve been involved with arts from a young age. Do you have a family member who works in that field of art, not just in film, but in other forms of art?
I believe I am the first one in my family to pursue art, including cinema. In my surname, no one has engaged in artistic pursuits before me. (laughs)
I’ve always maintained a consistent disposition. Whether I was studying Mathematics and Computer Science, music, or now in cinema, I’ve never felt like I changed my discipline. It’s because I’ve always been in the same mood and spiritual state. But now, it has been over a decade of making films because I genuinely love it.
Poetic Frames: The Literary Inspiration Behind Cinematic Vision
Your work seems to draw from Azerbaijani poetry and stories. Can you tell us more about this and how the work initially came about?
My inclination towards poetry is not a conscious decision. It's just a part of my nature and how I perceive the world through the lens of a camera. I have a penchant for what some might call 'slowness,' though I hesitate to label it as such. Poetry serves as my inspiration and the resulting work, well, I suppose you could call it 'poetic.'
It's not something I do deliberately. It's just the way I am. If I had a more comedic disposition, my work might reflect that, but I don't. My work simply aligns with the person I am. (laughs)
Your work has a very literary quality, not just due to the presence of poetry but also in its ability to immerse the audience in a unique world. When I contemplate it, I sense a mythical imagination that creates vast empty spaces and then fills them with ideas.
This occurs organically. I never set out with the intention of crafting something mythological or symbolic. I discover these elements as I film. It's like having a general idea of the feeling I want to convey, not about specific scenes but the overall essence of the film.
After several days of filming, I began to see elements that inspired me, sometimes resembling something mythological or symbolic. This isn't the case for all my films; some are more concrete. However, with this film, it emerged during the shooting process.
Even the clothing, for instance, was worn by people in Tunisia, and I asked my friends to dress like Tunisian locals. It's the hunter wearing the yellow garment. This wasn't a conscious choice; it just felt right for the character.
Cinematic Canvas: Nature's Grandeur and Human Connection
Yes, that's why this film feels very much like 'you.' (laughs) I've heard that the setting of the film, the mountains, holds special significance for you as a Caucasian. Why did you choose the mountain as a key element, and what does it mean to you?
I have a deep affection for mountains; that's the primary reason. Mountains possess a mystical quality because when you encounter one, you feel small and vulnerable. In nature, you realize that nature can overpower you. You feel humbled, understanding that you're an integral part of the natural world.
In contrast, the city can make you feel powerful because you've helped create it. You sense ownership and control over the urban environment. But when I gaze upon the mountains and the people living there, the relationship between the small and the grand resonates with me. It's a cinematic feeling that I cherish. I like seeing humans as tiny entities within the grandeur of nature because we are not rulers of nature; we are participants.
I think I found that concept in your film. When I examine the film's details, it may appear fragmented, but as a whole, it possesses an incredible power that unites all its elements.
You've often expressed a preference for art over films, and your meticulous attention to screen composition is evident in your work. When I consider aspects like color, focus, and composition, I'm inclined to break them down individually. What aspects do you pay special attention to when creating a frame, and what would you like the audience to focus on when they experience your work?
Thank you for your question. I've learned a great deal from painters and musicians, rather than from filmmakers. My inspiration comes from the realm of art, especially painters and composers. I avoid excessive cutting in my scenes and prefer to display extended shots. There are very few close-ups in the film, with the majority being wide shots. I believe that a discerning audience can appreciate the nuances. I cannot claim to show everything, but I present the character as I perceive it, as an image and a picture.
Regarding what the audience should concentrate on, I think the most crucial aspect is to feel the film deeply. It's a journey into the unknown. I aim for the audience to experience what I sense from the painting – a profound resonance – and I hope they feel the same way.
Yes, it makes sense. The wide shots amplify the grandeur of nature. I appreciate the vertical images of the trees and the embracing mountains' curves. I believe this is central to your film. Let's delve deeper into this.
Yes, that was intentional. It was my decision to make this film in CinemaScope. My new film, another installment in the trilogy, features a vertical aspect ratio. I believe the aspect ratio significantly influences the aesthetics and the emotions of the characters.
While watching your film, I noticed many elements positioned centrally within the frame. Normally, this would create a flat appearance, but in your film, it appears multidimensional and exudes vibrant energy.
I believe that human nature within us and the nature outside are intertwined. I strive to depict nature as having the same characteristics as the characters. I continually seek this pattern. I'm not attempting to capture picturesque images; I aim to reveal the aspects of nature that resonate with the characters. This philosophy also extends to sound. I believe everything possesses a character, including sound and music. I attempt to find the commonalities or harmonies between these 'characters.' It's akin to examining people's portraits – some individuals match, while others don't. This holds true in my work. Some characters harmonize with a particular facet of nature, while others align with a different aspect. I concentrate on these connections.
Is this an exploration of the cinematic history of your region, emphasizing the relationships between individuals, nature, and more?
Yes, exactly. It encapsulates the essence of our cultural perspective, delving into the connections between person-to-person and person-to-nature.
And also a reflection of your personal journey in life?
I didn't start out that way, but I've evolved into this perspective. Through filmmaking, I've steered in this direction, where the faces of the characters hold immense importance.
The scenes of characters gazing at the sky, climbing mountains, and the tall trees seem to symbolize human aspirations for greatness, but the ending is somewhat bleak for the characters. Were there specific messages or themes you aimed to convey with this film?
Truthfully, I didn't intend any of that. As you may have gathered, I made decisions about many aspects, but I didn't determine where to look. It was all about capturing beauty in the moment.
I shoot extensively, accumulating nearly 100 hours of footage. If I were to share it with you, you could probably create your own film. (laughs) I made a film called Crane Lantern, which I shot over two years, accumulating terabytes of scenes. I never had a clear, initial concept for the film. I always followed my intuition and, in the end, found the solutions through the editing process. My filmmaking is dynamic, and I don't envision the final result during filming; it's about capturing the essence in the moment.
The Sonic Palette: Creating Soundscapes
I've heard that when you work, you shoot everything first and then add all the sound based on what you've filmed. It's an intriguing approach. What inspired you to adopt this method?
Primarily, I wanted to be a composer. My objective was to create music, and this method became a way for me to generate sounds. Additionally, the sounds in my mind differ from the sounds in real life. I find real-life sounds often noisy due to people talking, traffic, and other distractions. My films were also noisy, but there's a specific feeling I wanted to preserve, a feeling that transcends the noise of cars and trains. That's why I prefer creating sounds that match the images I've captured, in line with what I believe the sounds should be.
I attempt to create sounds that align with my mental perception. I believe that certain sounds naturally belong to specific shots. This includes all the sounds, from character voices to birdcalls. Even the music, we create it ourselves and place it where it feels right. For example, certain birds should be on the left in one scene, in the center in the next, and on the right in a different sequence. Sound is a crucial part of my creative process in filmmaking, and I never record sound during the initial shooting.
This method explains why you edit your films yourself. If others were working with you, they might find it challenging. (laughs)
Yes, that's precisely why I work alone. Others may struggle to understand my vision. (laughs)
Living Through Filmmaking
Your film contains minimal dialogue, yet it evokes strong emotions. Given your expertise as an actor, I'm curious about how you direct the actors in your film.
Honestly, they are all my friends in real life. We always chat together. During the shooting, we live in the same house. We sleep together, we wake up together and we eat together. So there is no need to make them act. Because they all know what I want, they all know what I feel, they all know what kind of feeling we are looking for. They all know that.
So it’s very easy for me to work with them. It does not work. As I said in the previous interviews, it is about living. We live together. We are not filming; we are living together.
You've taken on multiple roles in your films, including directing, writing, shooting, and producing. What led you to adopt this multifaceted approach to your work?
I didn't actively choose this path; it unfolded as my destiny. (laughs)
Your film Sermon to the Fish was screened at the Busan International Film Festival last year, but unfortunately, you couldn't attend. Can we expect Sermon to the Birds screening in Korea, perhaps with your presence?
I'm uncertain because festival decisions are driven by their specific requirements and policies. For instance, if my film premieres in Tokyo, I cannot screen it in Busan because Busan seeks Asian Premiere status. The following year, it might be deemed too 'old' for their selection. Other festivals may be options, but it's entirely up to their discretion. If they choose to screen it, I'd be more than willing to attend. Sound is indeed crucial to my films, and I often tell people, 'Please don't watch it on a monitor.' We've designed the sound for theaters, and it truly enhances the viewing experience.
Jaewon Sheol is the editor-in-chief of Cultura, a Korean cultural magazine, and the publisher of K-Writer, a Korean-US magazine with offices in both Korea and Los Angeles' Koreatown. He specializes in cultural commentary and has written numerous articles, with a particular focus on the film industry. In 2023, he was appointed as an international voter for the Golden Globe Awards due to his recognized expertise.
Photo Courtesy of 2023 Tokyo International Film Festival
* 《Cultura》 2023 December (Vol. 114) *
