erin_broadley

The first time I visited the set of a Burke Roberts film he stuffed me in the trunk of a car in downtown Los Angeles, quite literally, and told me to keep my head down. He was filming a scene that involved a traffic accident and there I was, trying to take mental notes on his process while crammed up against film equipment and props, hidden from the camera beneath a sheet of foam core, when suddenly I smelled smoke. The car was overheating with me stuck inside. It was my first lesson in the unpredictable nature of guerilla filmmaking, to say the least, and I loved every adrenaline-fueled minute of it.

To call Roberts filmmaking process exciting is an understatement. You never quite know what might happen on one of his sets. Whether it's cops storming in to shut down production because of a permit problem or a crew car overheating and nearly bursting into flamesthe challenge is all part of what fuels his creativity and the stylized, poetically twisted worlds his audiences indulge in on the big screen.

Growing up a rural punk in Colorado, Roberts moved to Los Angeles in his late teens and began making his own DIY 35mm and 16mm films after finding the bloated Hollywood scene a bit dull for his provocative tastes. His first film Jesus Rides Shotgun premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 1997, though Roberts found the festival Very posh. Very fucking squarelike a festival for my grandparents. Since then hes made Handicap City, Fuck Fashion, Echo of a Man, Insult to Injury, and his most recent, Some of an Equation.

Roberts took some time out of his busy schedule to talk with SuicideGirls about the current state of guerilla filmmaking and where he draws the line between fanaticism and lunacy


Erin Broadley: Lets start by talking about the short film I visited the set of the other day. I know you dont want to give too much away at this point

Burke Roberts: That experiment was a perfect example of my addiction to the process and not the result. If we didnt pull it off on a one-day shoot, I was willing to not even have a film. Which is an attitude not too common in the states. But in Paris theres almost a hip-hop battle point of view with the underground film scene. See, even guys who are commercially successful in France still play in this arena. They come from that underground cred, which Im lucky enough to be affiliated.

EB: They dont abandon it once they reach a certain level of success?

BR: No, in fact, its more respected than commercial. Theres a friendly, battle nature to the kind of film that you saw us making. Not unlike with hip hop. And I dont mean your mainstream hip-hop with clowns and lets talk shit and then shoot each other and were done. Not like that. Part of the reason hip-hop progressed so quickly was because the battle, the challenge, is such an important aspect of that culture. Its about one-upping each other. Its like, Oh shitI cant believe he came up with that! Respect. So, theres that kind of thing going on [with underground filmmaking] overseas. In between my other films which take so long for me to make, I wanted to have something for my next Europe tour coming up, especially for cities like London and Paris where they have already seen some of my other flicks.

My brand of guerilla filmmaking is basically making really complex, high production value somethings out of nothings. This particular shoot, I doubt many would try. Were talking 20 cars, 30 extras, a professional crew, all shot in real timeone long shot, blocking traffic, with no permits, down two blocks, up and over the edge of a four story building, etc. Its been awhile since Ive been in production. Ive been doing so much touring and working on other projects that I just needed to make something. Ive never done one long shot this complex before. Its called Some of an Equation, spelled s-o-m-e. I expect to get a lot of questions about the title that I dont really intend to answer.

EB: Well, I dont really have any about the title. I mean, you cant spell dudewhatever, its not my problem (laughs).

BR: (Laughs) I also like to dabble in bending genres. Ive worked in many genres. Equation was horror my way. Im mainly interested in redefining for myself. Ive bent them all to be more of my own trip.

EB: Youve mentioned your interest in fanaticism before in other interviews, even going so far as to describe yourself as a fanatic of sorts. Where do you draw the line between fanaticism and lunacy?

BR: (Laughs) Good question. I dont.

EB: You dont? Not ever?

BR: You know, one mans trash is another mans treasure. One mans sheep is another mans wife. Ya know? Who the fuck am I to draw that line? All my films function around the human condition and the sociological outcome. I like to say I make protest films, like Dillon wrote protest songs. Im interested in raising questions by getting to the uber-sickness that creates it, which is the human condition. I dont claim to have an answer. But I definitely do say that there are questions being ignored. I run into a lot of people that have a very conditioned point of view about what film is. Its like, if youre doing something thats not holding somebodys hand, then its abstract.

EB: Yeah, like if its non-linear then its automatically art.

BR: Yeah, lets get on the topic of what is artor better yet, what is god? Or how about what is is?

EB: (Laughs) I know, right?

BR: Theres a slogan for a film I made called Handicap City which is a plague called complacency. That is ultimately what drives me. Its the fear of that plague, which I believe is a reality. And its also the fact that I dont know what the cure is. But my instincts tell me that it has to do with raising questions that people dont want to be asked, or dont want to ask themselves. One of my films, Echo of a Man, I call my mandala film. A mandala is when Buddhist monks do those gorgeous sand designs that are all about the process of making them and then the wind blows them away. Echo of a Man that was on the subject of insanity. But the film never got completed because it got lost, or I should say I lost it. Im a heavy smoker and I smoke in my editing bay and basically my hard drive died. I took it to this place and basically they said you have to take this to NASA if you want to recover anything. I shot it on 16mm film so going back to fix the sound sync and telecine and other shitnot on my budgets.

Anyway, in that film I was tackling the subject of insanity. Personally, I think sanity is nothing more than an agreement of any given society. Rules and taboos that, if you dont stick to, its just another excuse for the majority to put you in a box. The thing about fanaticism, and this is a very controversial thing to say in many circles, but Im of the opinion that if you remove yourself from the equation of morals and ethics (which I think for the most part are nurtured), a fanatic is a role that has a similar foundation regardless of the moral universe. Take Hitler and Gandhi, although from an ethical point of view they couldnt differ more, from the human condition aspect they are both fanatics. A fanatic would die and allow many others to die for their beliefs. Right now, were one fanatical country trying to change another fanatical country. Thats the kind of stuff my film Insult to Injury is ultimately about. Ive done a lot with that film in Europe, but not much in America because Americans dont necessarily want to look in the mirror. Insult to Injury, even though it uses the device of racism in the 1930s, has nothing to do with racism or the 1930s.





EB: It has to do with the greater human condition.

BR: Sure, yeah, and the heightened climate between Western and Eastern cultures.

EB: Like, theres a confusion between two things that somehow coexist and yet are still completely terrified of each other and themselves.

BR: Absolutely, and now more than ever. The past and future of that scenario keeps me up at night. So I kind of look at my films like therapy. I think any personal, uncensored creation is an attempt at communication. But its impossible to control who it ultimately speaks to. I dont knowI take a shit, you figure out how to flush it.

EB: (Laughs) How would you compare indie to mainstream filmmaking?

BR: Oh boy. Uhshit that flushes itself? Let me put it this way, comparing indie films and mainstream commercial films is very similar to the differences between republicans and democrats. Im not a fan of fucking either. Indie films are like democrats and mainstream is like republicans. I gotta say, at least republicans/mainstream films are honest about their evils. Theyre not apologetic. Heres an analogy: if youre stuck in traffic and a republican cuts you off theyre like, Fuck you, I cut you off. If a democrat cuts you off theyre like, Sorry, sorry. I didnt mean to. But they still cut you off!

EB: Like theres always a qualifying aspect to their evil.

BR: Exactly.

EB: Indie films are qualifying their evil, while mainstream films are

BR: (Laughs) Just evil! The term indie film has become just like indie rock. Like I said earlier about defining guerilla film, what I do is genuinely independent film in the sense of what was considered independent film in the '60s, '70s and '80s. Casavettes, Godard, even Malick. But now, independent film is 10 million dollars with stars and Robert Redford putting P.C. feathers in his cap at Sundancepalooza and whatnot. Look, in both indie and mainstream, people really get off on clever these days. And I got to say, its entertaining! I definitely enjoy clever, Im just not that impressed with it. Brando once said something about how genius had given way to cleverity. I cant quote him exactly and I really shouldnt misquote Brando, so let me get back to you on that one (laughs)! Its the same thing with comedy. A lot of people would take Jay Leno over Lenny Bruce!

EB: You seem very comfortable with acknowledging blurred lines between the categories. I read an interview you did in France where they were asking you about your take on mainstream Hollywood films and you said something about how you werent interested in replacing it, but just rivaling it.

BR: Yeah. I dont believe that there are any lines that arent blurred.

EB: A friend of mine always says, Fine lines are never linear.

BR: Yeah! Lines blur easily. Theyre fucking blurry. Theyre soft. You just have to squint. There was a time when I definitely believed in overthrowing the system. I had this militant fire in me. I couldnt help it, still do. Ive just started to focus it. I will always back someone who has some serious fire behind what theyre doing. I think rebellion is very important because I think we live in a time where something that formerly defined America, the American rebel, is in this badboyband, hot topic accoutrements of rebellion cesspool. But people are terrified of the real thing. One has to recognize the climate of their times and practice decent accordingly, to be affective rather than delusional.

There was an overthrowing of Hollywood in the late '60s to early '70s and basically what happened was, at the same moment when Jimmy Hendrix lit his guitar on fire on stage, the Movie marquees still read Doctor Doolittle. They were very out of touch. They didnt know what to do. They didnt know why people wanted to see the new Antonioni film. So things were ripe for change in the establishment and the inmates took over the asylum. And we were lucky to get a great moment in American cinema.

But that kind of thing is rare. One of the thing that depresses the shit out of me is to think about the fact that most of the greatest artists who have ever lived, weve never heard of. Obviously weve heard of some of them. But weve all known geniuses that for one reason or another no one will hear of or remember. And what pisses me off is people who say everything has been done. Everythings not fucking been done! Sure a lot has. But I guarantee you Beethoven sat pulling his crazy hair out thinking, No, no that sounds like Mozart! So one has to have a feeling for collage vs. homage vs. simple regurgitation. I call what I do large scale guerilla film. Basically we execute a high production value, but the only thing that cant solve a problem is money. Theres only one other art form besides film where evolution and imagination are as oppressed by monetary constraints, and that is architecture. But then again architecture is ancient. Film is very young.

EB: Tell me about the Bizzurke Army?

BR: Basically, its about 300 artists who come together to flatter me with their time and talents on my projects. And those two words at the front of my work and promos is my way of acknowledging that I couldnt do it without them. What Im interested in is the camaraderie of people who come together to make a film happen, simply because otherwise it wont. And I never cease to be amazed at the level of difficulty this kind of foundation can overcome. And Im aware that I ask a lot, but never more than Id ask of myself. When I make a film I work on a level of sleep deprivation that some people may not realize or understand, just to exercise the detail devils. But, I cant ask people to work their asses off on one of my films unless Im right there beside them. So the Army analogy is in the infinite battles we face. From not having enough film stock to the Hollywood institution that we philosophically oppose. Hence why I am no longer interested in overthrowing an already self-destructing machine. Id rather focus on creating with something outside of it. Thats why we built The Engine.

EB: The Engine?

BR: Yeah. Uhthats an entire other interview (laughs). But I will tell you its a new venue for noncommercial film and video. In short its a 1000-pound light and steel sculpture that is also a transportable high-end movie theater. We call it equal in form and function. Its premiering at the Architectural and Design Museum of Los Angeles next week. You should come check it out. I promise we wont stuff you in the trunk of a car. Well, probably not.

For more information about the Engine check out theenginetheater.com and bizzurkearmy.com