Carlos Saura, director of ‘Flamenco’. Interview

“I struggle to open up new
and daring pathways for flamenco”

Silvia Calado. Madrid, May 2005
Translation: Gary Cook

‘Saura’ means revolution in Arabic. And, through the lens of a movie camera, that revolution reached flamenco. Carlos Saura's 'revolution' has had a two-fold effect: driving creativity and erasing frontiers forever. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the Spanish director's filmography was flamenco's leading ambassador over the last few decades. Now, on the tenth anniversary of the release of ‘Flamenco’, he reflects on the importance of his flamenco work, on less orthodox approaches to flamenco, on timelessness, on what is left behind when one departs. Antonio Gades... He speaks of him mixing past and present, looking at the wristwatch he gave him, underlining his “tragic outlook on life.” And he looks once more to the future, just as his art does. The art that is ever present in his life, the art whose secrets are unveiled to him by the best guides, the art that today might reach him via Albéniz, and tomorrow via hip-hop. And whose output comes in the shape of images, lucky for the fans who are able to look through his lens, and lucky for flamenco itself.

Carlos Saura (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)

It's ten years since ‘Flamenco’ was released...

My movie? Time flies! I never realized.

What impact do you think your films had on the international reach of flamenco?

I was really lucky with the musicals I made, from the ones I did with Antonio Gades starting with ‘Bodas de sangre’ and, above all, ‘Carmen’ which was crazy, it surprised all of us. It was a movie that traveled all around the world. It's still screened in a lot of countries, and is shown on TV the world over. And it surprised us. Later on we made ‘El amor brujo’ and later still ‘Sevillanas’, with producer Juan Lebrón. It was a movie that seemed small-scale, not very involved, apparently very simple.

Carlos Saura (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)

Really, though, it was a revolution, because it was the start of a genre that I find absolutely fascinating, a kind of hybrid between a documentary and, at the same time, something a little more creative. You couldn't call it a documentary, but the artists involved agreed to do specific things we'd thought up with Manolo Sanlúcar. They performed pieces especially for us, trying to make sevillanas more accessible. Manolo Sanlúcar and I thought that sevillanas wasn't just a style of dance separate from flamenco, but that there could be a relationship between the two, if you looked hard enough. I think we found it, we showed that there were some fantastic directions, in spite of the limitations of sevillanas. But I also liked that limitation a lot because it gave enormous possibilities for creativity within such a tight framework.

And it surprised even devotees of sevillanas...

Of course. And that was my intention: not to just settle for what was already around, but to search for other directions. And I shared that aim with Manolo Sanlúcar, who was an invaluable and marvelous help to me.

By the way, it still hasn't been released on DVD. Any news?

I know nothing about that but one thing's for sure, it's shameful that neither ‘Sevillanas’ nor ‘Flamenco’ are available on DVD (in Spain). I think I just have one copy left and everybody asks me how to get hold of it. Juan Lebrón told me he was going to publish them but, for the time being, it hasn't happened. Ask him.

‘Flamenco’ arrived in 1995. Back then, what were your aims?

It was more complex, more involved, perhaps more difficult. I don't know, though, not for me it wasn’t. Perhaps the hardest thing was selecting who was going to be in the movie and who couldn't be. Unfortunately, not all those who should've been there are, but in my opinion the best ones who could be there are (he laughs). And I worked, in this case, with Manolo's brother, with Isidro Muñoz, who was my right-hand man. I always say the same thing, what I know about flamenco is what I managed to pick up along the way from people who worked with me. I always try to find someone who knows more than I do, so that they can teach me, and to learn a little more. With both Manolo and Isidro, I learned plenty. And ‘Flamenco’ was the result... it was really wonderful to be able to have such incredible people shut away in a studio for hours on end. And there they are.

	Carlos Saura (Photo: José Albadalejo)

The old Plaza de Armas train station in Seville was transformed into a film set. Do you remember any particular anecdotes from the shooting?

What struck me as the funniest thing is that in the beginning we thought it was going to be a bit of a disaster to make La Paquera - or any of those guys I had there - come down, and then to shut them up in a studio. I mean maybe they were going to find it cold, and not be able to give as much as they could in other situations... I had faith that it was going to be the other way round - we'd already seen it on ‘Sevillanas’. And everybody that came said “right, here we have to give it everything we've got.” When they saw the cameras all around, the spotlights, Vittorio Storaro, all of that... “This calls for the big guns, here we have to sing until we drop”, they'd say. He laughs. And it's true, that was the marvelous thing, it was just the opposite. They knew it was something that was going to last, a testament to our artform. We all resolved to do the best we could because this was going to last. And that's the fantastic thing about the cinema. Now, unfortunately, a group of people like Lola Flores, Farruco, Antonio Gades have died... but there you have a document of them, of their vocals, of their baile, of their talent.

And with a worldwide impact...

It was amazing the audiences these movies reached all over the world. Not long ago I was in China and I had a meeting. You know that everything is large-scale over there, around four hundred people turned up, young and old alike, and the only Spanish cinema they knew was my flamenco films. I was surprised, I can tell you. And you go to Moscow and on the newsstands they have out there they're selling ‘Bodas de sangre’ or ‘Carmen’... all pirate copies, I guess. And, Japan is just nuts.

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