Filmmakers Eric Black and Frauke Sandig talk about the challenges of avoiding clichés in Los Angeles, making a film that probes the intersection of technology and ethics and how finding the right character can make a film.
What led you to make FROZEN ANGELS?
The process of starting a documentary is much like an animated cartoon where a stick figure pens the outline of a room, then paints a door and enters into an entirely new world. Co-director Frauke Sandig read an article in Die Zeit, the German equivalent of The New York Times, titled "In the Land of Children Makers." What excited us about this as filmmakers was threefold: First, it suggested an entire world with bigger than life characters. We could already "see" a film. (After three years spent making our previous film together, we thought, "We could just jump on the next plane to L.A. and shoot this, bang!, in no time.") Second, it was a controversial theme. We didn't know what to think ourselves and that is very intriguing to a filmmaker. But, it was also clear to us, at some point this theme crosses everyone's moral code. Third, and equally important, we saw the potential to bring humor to an otherwise deadly serious subject. We attempt never to underestimate the need for humor. On another level it presented an ideal set on which to continue developing the style and structure we had initiated in After The Fall—pushing documentary as far as possible towards fiction film, without losing its edge and critical link to reality. The real challenge for us is trying to make documentaries which work, and reinforce each other on various levels.
What role does the city of Los Angeles play in the telling of this story?
Primary! We've never known a city to be such a cliché of itself—and film-wise, she never let us down. Not only does the city have the biggest everything in reproductive technology and more fertility clinics per capita than any other place on the planet, L.A. is the very Mecca of the "Body Perfect" with her breast implants, ubiquitous fitness studios, Muscle Beach (Arnold is now governor) and the world's largest pornography industry. Here, the superficial has been raised to an art in one giant Disneyland. It is difficult to imagine a city that's a more perfect microcosm and metaphor for America and our relationship to the rest of the world. L.A. is a society extremely divided geographically along racial and class lines. Over half the population is Latino. Because of this demographic we were able to infuse FROZEN ANGELS with subtle, but constant, visual reminders of those who will not be included in this new improved American Dream. Part of Los Angeles is the city of Hollywood and thus the most often filmed in the world. We would set the camera up and everywhere it panned, we had another cliché in the viewfinder: from Baywatch to Magnolia to Shortcuts to Blade Runner, ending with the diner in American Graffiti. This was terrific fun even as it presented another challenge: on one hand, what could be more perfect if the intent was to blur the line between documentary and fiction film? On the other, how do you film a city of clichés in a new way? We didn't. We simply used these images to evoke previous films but put in another context.
You had a wide variety of people featured in your film: from a talk show host to egg donors and surrogates. How did you select these individuals?
For the most part, they suggested themselves in that they were obvious choices. Cappy Rothman is the founder of the world's largest sperm bank, Gregory Stock is the director of the program on Medicine, Technology and Society at UCLA’s School of Medicine. He is also the author of Redesigning Humans. Lori Andrew's litigation of reproductive and genetic technologies and the disposition of frozen embryos caused the National Law Journal to list her as one of the 100 most influential lawyers in America. She was chair of the federal ethics commission on the Human Genome Project and author of The Clone Age. Doron Blake was the "poster child" of the Nobel Prize spermbank. And then there is the inimitable Bill Handel. Without Bill Handel we would never have started the film. We are always searching for ways to reduce the amount of "talking heads" and narration to zero and he presented a fluid way of connecting all the parts. Think what one will of his politics, for a filmmaker he is a deliciously ambiguous character: the most popular talk-show radio host on the West Coast; the father of twin, nine-year-old girls conceived by in vitro fertilization; a lawyer; funny; the owner and director of the world’s largest agency for egg donors and surrogate mothers. Also, he's concerned about the future of the new eugenics: his own Jewish grandparents were murdered at Auschwitz. His character alone suggested the overall structure of the film: through both the use of the radio interviews of other characters being broadcast ubiquitously to people in cars and through his personal connections to almost every conceivable aspect of reproductive technology, right down to eugenics and the Holocaust. One could never have made him up.
How did you convince the donors and the surrogate to give up anonymity and share their stories?
Outside the country, we are asked this a lot. We had no problem at all. I'd like to think it is because we let them know from the beginning, we would not be using narration: they would be the only ones telling their own story. Most people relish the opportunity, given the time and respect. But it is most likely Frauke's European accent and charm which convinced our protagonists to participate. As for the egg donors modeling at the photo shoot, that was the suggestion of Shelley Smith, the agency owner. With Kim Brewer, the surrogate mother, she wanted to tell her story because she absolutely believes in what she is doing, and we believe her.
Did the making of this film influence or change your own views on reproductive technology?
Yes. Initially, like most people, our knowledge of the subject was fragmentary—like shattered glass—and we had little chance of putting together an entire picture. We really did not know what to think. That's one of the aspects we love about documentary, diving into the unknown and coming back to tell a story of one's experience. As we researched further, we became aware of how close we are to this brave, new world. We are right on that edge. The fertility clinics are already in place. The basic technology is there. We are in denial if we think we cannot do with humans tomorrow what we do with cows and fruit flies today.
What were some of the challenges you faced in making this film?
We sometimes found the subject of human genetic manipulation depressing. We do not belong to any orthodox religion, but this does not preclude an interest in questions of a spiritual nature. Over three years, we dwelt intensively on such issues as, what makes us human? What do we hold sacred? At what point is our own moral code threatened by genetic manipulation? And what about the rest of the animal world—have we no obligations towards nature? Is there space between these DNA sequences for the soul?
What impact do you hope this film will achieve?
To provoke—we went out of our way not to tell the audience what to think. There is no narration and the views expressed are often diametrically opposed or ambiguous, and yet at some point in the film everyone's moral line is crossed, even Bill’s. As with fiction films, it is not important to us that the audience remember all the characters' names or every fact that is presented. Our hope in a democracy is to provoke a national and international discussion and legislation before human biotech firms launch their first wave of commercials. What people will spend on their children, as we have seen, is seemingly without limit and we foresee this industry surpassing the automobile industry in size.
What period of time did filming require and when did it conclude?
Unfortunately, we did not “just jump on the next plane to L.A. and shoot it, bang!" as we had dreamed. The entire film took us three hard years. The filming stage required nine months, three visits of three months each to Southern California. We seem to have set ridiculously high standards for ourselves. Making a film without narration, for example, requires at least three times the effort required for a narrated documentary because one cannot simply fabricate transitions. We shot 140 hours of material and the editing took Frauke, me and another editor six intense months to complete. The other half of our time was tied up in the tiresome bureaucracy of funding.
The independent film business is a difficult one. What keeps you motivated?
We now have now come to believe documentary filmmaking is symptomatic of a defective gene that may soon be corrected so others will no longer suffer needlessly.
Why did you choose to present your film on public television?
Even if the current state of programming is often disappointing, we believe in the idea of public television and in supporting public television, particularly when it is under attack. In a time when most American media has been consolidated into corporate monopolies under the new FCC rulings, this small, remaining window onto the world is that much more critical. It never occurred to us to present it anyplace else and we could never allow interruptions for advertising. We are thankful, in particular, to the people at ITVS for making the broadcast of FROZEN ANGELS possible.
What didn’t you achieve while you were making the film?
We were most heartbroken with what we were unable to include in the final cut: the parallel companion story, which is only hinted at in the finished version, is adoption and the national disgrace we call foster care. Twenty percent of all foster children are in California, enough to go around for anyone who wanted to adopt. The "problem" is, these children are of mixed race. Sixty percent of the girls become pregnant within two years of leaving the system. We found and followed one of them, Angela, a Latina, now on her own with her four year-old son. In spite of sexual abuse and having been in a dozen foster care homes, she was articulate and compassionate, a tribute to the human spirit. She is now studying to be an adoption worker herself. There are two brief scenes with her driving her car that remain in the film. In one, she describes wanting to be a "ditzy white girl." We loved that. We loved her, but her story was too "hard," in the context of human reproductive technology. She was an entire story in herself. We mourned her loss.
Second, the semi-final cut was book-ended by an interview with a very blond Dr. Brigitte Boisselier, the Raelian Bishop and Director of Clonaid, in an enormous black room with the Raelian’s life-size, chrome, spaceship. Boisselier is no one’s fool, with two Ph.Ds from French universities in both physical and bimolecular chemistry. She gave us a terrific, charismatic interview where, at the very end of the film, she describes cloning and the promise of eternal life in a future where "you will wake up in a new, 18-year-old body and know exactly where your car keys are." What a fantastic way to end the film! The problem was not that her vision of the future was so different from what other established scientists envision. On the contrary, her fantasy cast too much doubt in our viewers' minds on the validity of what our other more “legitimate” protagonists had explained. The subject matter and the end of the film are already so close to science fiction.
What do you think is the most inspirational food for making independent film?
While we were shooting in L.A., we developed a soft spot for the quaint family atmosphere and abundant Mexican seafood at the Rinconcito Del Mar in East L.A.
Which filmmakers have most influenced your work?
Mainly fiction film directors, especially the Italian Neorealists right up to and including Fellini.
What advice do you have for aspiring filmmakers?
Although it may not look like it, this "film" was made on the PD-150 in mini DV. That may not mean anything to non-filmmakers, but it is a small camera costing around $3,000 and about five dollars for an hour-long tape. Add to that a very good fluid head tripod and microphones—anyone can afford it. Our advice is, don't wait until your funding is in place for the initial production side or you will never make it. Show what you can do, take risks, make lots of mistakes, be persistent, put together a 15-minute trailer and then seek funding for the expensive post-production side. Lots of taboos are being broken and documentary has never been so exciting. Come join us.
Read the filmmaker bios >>
Learn about reproductive technology options >>
|
