“EO” has been widely compared to “Au Hasard Balthazar,” but your film is experimental in ways that make it feel incredibly distinctive. I’ll never forget the sounds that open and close “Balthazar” — the donkey’s distressed braying that interrupts the second movement of Schubert’s Piano Sonata Op. 959, and his dying breath amid the bleating of sheep — and their forceful expression of animal sound over human voice. Can you talk about selecting the more industrial sounds that open and close your film?
It’s quite obvious that “EO” is made out of love for animals and nature. And those sounds you mentioned, the industrial sounds, represent the elements of civilization that are destroying nature in its natural form. They are disturbing sounds, which should appeal to the audience as a contrast to the beauty of the quiet sounds of nature. [long pause]
It has already been several years since we moved from California, where we’d been living for a quarter of a century. Now, we live in Poland, and we found a place deep in a wild forest, away from civilization. We enjoy nature in its simplest form: the old trees falling down on the ground, moss covering those black trunks and the roots of the fallen trees, some sounds of birds from a distance, a lack of the sound of any cars, or dirty words from the human mouth.
Since we have lived in those conditions already for several years, of course, it’s had an effect on our personalities. We are deeply involved in the process of saving nature in every possible way and also protesting against such extremes of human activity as so-called “industrial farming,” which I personally find shameful on behalf of human nature. As an effect, we’ve nearly become vegetarians. Somehow, naturally, we’ve reduced our meat consumption without any declaration that we are doing so consciously. It was just a natural need that came from being involved in that process. And I believe one of the effects of watching “EO” on the screen could be that the audience re-examines their attitudes toward animals and particularly re-examines the need for meat consumption. Do we really need to have bacon every morning? Can’t we have cottage cheese every second day, for example? I would like to bring those thoughts into my audience’s mind.
Being in proximity to animals, I find, expands my consciousness of their inner lives and depth of feeling. After the donkey is beaten by a losing soccer team’s superfans, you cut to an AI robot dog roving the same landscape. To me, this sequence evoked the presence of an animal’s soul through its absence, how profoundly alive they are compared to this mechanical contraption.
Your reading of this scene is excellent, actually. But I understand since it is a metaphorical scene, it could be read in different ways. Perhaps someone would ask the question, if we kill all the animals, with what will we be left? Will these robots be our home pets in the future? Do we really want this kind of contact, this kind of home pet? That’s another possible reading. And also, the desperate fight of that robot to stay on his four feet, to not fall down entirely or remain on his back, represents the fight for life. We understand at that moment that EO, beaten by the hooligans, is fighting for his life. And I didn’t want to express this through shocking details of the blood pouring out of open wounds. I tried to express it differently, which is why this particular scene is in that very moment.
Ideas of alienation and displacement recur in your cinema, and so I was moved by the sequence toward the end of this film in which EO wanders the forest and fades into it through this deep connection to nature. The night forest sequence with the frog, the spider, and the fox, similarly, has the sense of communion. Can you talk about these moments of belonging for EO that contrast his mistreatment?
Working on the story of the outsider, which is the common theme of my films, of course, I was looking for those elements. The fate of the outsider is not really everybody’s dream. It’s built out of rather negative elements. But to contrast them, I was also looking for some positive sides of this kind of life. The forest, and the life of nature, was one of those elements that, as you rightly observed, was like a homecoming.
For the animal to be in the right place, in the right environment, in the right position — even with those dangers created by nature, like the wolves that are somewhere very close and allow for the dramatic potential of the animal being killed — there is this beauty to nature that operates according to the natural rules, not the rules created by human beings treating themselves quite unrightly as the kings of the world. This is perhaps not precisely the answer to the question you asked, but we are talking through subjects that it’s very difficult to find the precise words for. They’re delicate matters, more like poetry.
To ask more about filmmaking technique, your films often make use of expressionistic lighting, from the flickering customs clearance that opens “Moonlighting” to the overpowering yellows in “Deep End.” I wanted to ask specifically about the lighting strategy for “EO,” with its stroboscopic opening at the circus and the painting of these intense reds in the skies.
A great deal of that is owed to the fact that, besides being a filmmaker, I’m also a painter, so I am specifically sensitive about color. Even outside of composition, which is another thing, the use of color is very conscious. I’ve already experimented with colors across my films. As an example, I can quote the use of the color yellow in “Deep End,” a story about jealousy. And the color yellow, somehow, is connected with the feeling of jealousy. And it worked very well, with Jane Asher’s raincoat, which she wears in nearly every scene, and the choice of the location in SoHo in London, where I found one block painted yellow. It’s natural. It was already dilapidated, so it was not created by my art director. It’s natural. I think it looks like maybe it was painted 15 or 20 years ago. This effect of the color works very well there. For “EO,” I decided to use the color red as signaling the danger. After all, it is the story of a donkey on the run. In nearly every moment we can expect that something bad or unfortunate can happen. Therefore, the color red is underlying the fact that you are crossing the street on the red light. This is the feeling I wanted to create for the audience.
You mentioned that scene of the red sky. Of course, it’s a bird’s-eye view. We see the world from God’s perspective or a bird’s perspective. Our flight together with this imagined bird or imagined God goes smoothly but eventually reaches those wind turbines and, after a moment, we see the result: the dead bird falling down on the ground into the pool of water. Somehow, acting subconsciously but still believing that this is the right track, I go by my instincts. And I try not to theorize. I don’t want to go by the rules of certain preconceptions, more by instincts and mood, by the whole atmosphere that is created while making the film.
I had a wonderful crew. For the first time, I was really able to properly use the talents of my collaborators. Before that, I was maybe too selfish or too egotistical, putting myself up as an auteur too much in front of the film. This time, I think I used the talents of my collaborators in the proper way and their input into their film — the input of my composer [Paweł Mykietyn,] of my director of photography [Michał Dymek,] the production designer [Miroslaw Koncewicz,] and the phenomenal editorial work by Agnieszka Glińska! This is something for which I owe her an enormous [debt,] and she helped the film in a fantastic way.
Your animal actors, as well, are such hypnotic presences. I know EO is played by six different donkeys across the film, and I’ve heard that you employed various tricks to coax the performances you needed out of them, including carrots and placing members of opposite-sexed donkeys off-screen. What did you need to bring to set, emotionally, to work with these donkeys?
I acted out of intuition, but I think I very early found that the best moments of collaboration with animals came when I managed to create a bond. For example, whenever I had so-called ‘free time’ — when my crew was having lunch or preparing the next shot, or waiting for a piece of equipment, all those moments that a film director normally spends in their trailer, drinking coffee or smoking cigarettes — I didn’t spend those moments in a trailer, first of all, because I didn’t have a trailer. [laughs] Remember, please, that this is a modestly budgeted film. It was not a low budget, but it was a modest budget. Instead of paying for my trailer, I was more focused on securing the comfort of the animals. They had their horse wagons, and they had their little barns wherever we were shooting. I spent my free time with them.
I could have had some rest or maybe concentrated on the next shot, but I preferred to spend that time with them, patting their heads and whispering in their ears. The language we use towards our pets is full of nonsense and some words which don’t mean anything. [laughs] It’s like talking to a small child. The tone of voice is important because they understand the tone of voice, and so I was speaking gentle words into their ears. They understood that I am a friend, that the animal and myself are a team on a mission. It was about creating a special coexistence, and then the execution of the so-called work was much easier because during the work, I was very, very close, sometimes even whispering again, not loud enough to disturb the soundtrack but loud enough for the animal to understand that, “Yes, he is also walking this way, from point A to point B.” And ‘mission’ is the keyword. The film was created by spending extra time with them, putting extra effort into talking to them, and making them feel that we were on a mission. There are no better words than this.
The connection you share with these donkeys must have been calming for you, as well as for them. I have to imagine that was a beautiful experience, creating that bond.
You know I miss them so much? Really, I would like to still be shooting this film and to know that tomorrow, I will be in touch with them again… They’re such great creatures.
Will you see them again?
[Smiling] I will. I will visit the one that is the closest to where I live. [A/N: Tako and Hola both live separately outside of Warsaw.] I will visit, and I will bring a good portion of carrots.
“EO” is currently playing in theaters nationwide. This interview has been edited and condensed.
