Why did you want to make a film of Nijinsky's diaries?

It's all a blur to me now. The actual making of the film was a hell hole. It was very difficult, but it slowly emerged. I had this in the back of my mind for many years, but I could never get the right sum of money. It was always "do it in Hollywood with big stars." I could have done that at some point because I had the rights to the dairies from the family, but I wanted to make this sort of film.

So how did it finally happen?

It sort of generated itself from within, more or less. I almost looked on myself as some sort of servant or altar boy.

How did you come upon the diaries?

It goes back about 30 years when I heard the diaries being read on the radio by Paul Scofield. That's just when I started to make films at a more serious level. I did everything as a hobby. I still think if you want to do anything seriously it must be a hobby. Take this profession, for example, there's too much compromise. We compromise all the time, don't we? For what? If we all stopped compromising, I think the world would be a much better place.

Would you call this film a documentary?

It's the same as when you ring the office of somebody and they ask, "Where are you from?" I always say, "I'm from my mother." I have a company called Illumination Films, but I can't say I'm from there because that will lead to, "Well, what do you do?" We always have to pinpoint people, don't we? We always have to say this must be somehow related to this. This person comes from Holland, so he is Dutch. This person comes from Germany. I think all of that is actually very dangerous. Not that I have anything against identity. I think it's very good to have human identity. But I think if you're patriotic about something that makes you a potential aggressor because you have something to defend. When you're asking what category is this film, for instance, I think the world will put it in some sort of category and it would probably have to be called a documentary. But to me it's not a real documentary because every academic who's studied his life would have great trouble with this film. They're all doomed to logic.

What interested me was the way you staged the dance, it wasn't until the credits rolled that I realized there was an awful lot of work in there.

Yesterday or the day before, I came across somebody who said, "I really liked the person who danced Nijinsky." And I said, "Who was this?" There, of course, was a decision made. There are 32 people dancing Nijinsky, male and female. He was a man of many disguises and I didn't want the big ego of an actor to get in the way because Nijinsky is a very humble servant to beauty, to the gods, and that certainly was my approach, too. I tried to do it as humbly as I could.

Anything you regret leaving out?

What's his big ballet? God, I can't think at the moment. Stravinsky...

"Rite of Spring"

Right. We couldn't do that because it would have been too expensive. I would have liked little flashes of that through the film, but it would have been a bit too much.

Tell me about that, because I thought of that during the film. I can't imagine that Hollywood version you talked about earlier without that moment of "Rite of Spring" sweeping Paris as a success de scandale.

Yes, but again, because it's not a documentary... He doesn't talk about it much in the dairies. Not at all. He doesn't talk about his sister in the dairies at all and his sister was very important. But I wanted to use only his words and not twist anything. I think the biggest milestone was "L'Apres-midi d'un Faune." That really was the very start of modern dance. More so than anything else.

And you really evocatively capture that in the film. I actually read one review that beefed about your staging it in the forest. I thought, what about "Bambi," same problem for this critic?

I thought, you cannot do it the way it was done. Nobody had seen it.

So little of what Nijinsky did survives, even in terms of people who actually saw him dance and are still alive. How do you feel about film and video as a means of dance preservation?

Well, it's a marvelous thing to record. Nijinsky was the first person to develop notations, to directly write down where people were, which was quite intricate, but nobody could decipher it--including himself, probably--it was too complicated. The great thing about the theater and about dance is that it is one life, one flight, gone. There's just the memory and the feeling that lingers of that beauty and it's really penetrative. But nowadays you can record it. Sometimes it's done in the right way, but usually it isn't. Sometimes it gives you totally the wrong feeling. There's nothing like seeing it on-stage happening. There's nothing like the real thing.

Were the three dimensional aspects of dance ever in conflict with the two dimensional nature of film?

Well, I knew I would chop it up. I knew I would not be saying, "And now we're going to see a little dance, etc." It solved itself in the editing room, I think.

How did you wrangle Sir Derek Jacobi to read the diaries?

We worked together on "Molokai: The Story of Father Damien" in Hawaii. It was a very big film which went horribly wrong because there were a lot of problems. It was like being in Vietnam, you know, it was really one of those. But Derek was there and he was a terrific support. I admire him greatly. He's a great actor, but he's also a warm and wonderful human being. We talked a lot about Nijinsky and I said, "Well, if I get the money, you have to do it." I never considered anybody else. So when we had a bit of money, I recorded most of the monologue and then used it as the music to structure the film around. Then later on, we did it again to match the picture.

What about the dancers, how did you find them?

Well, they're all people that I knew. Alida Chase was in charge of this and she'd been with the Netherlands Dance Theatre and she was married to Bill Forsythe with the Stuttgart Ballet and so she helped a lot. We went around to find the right dancers. Wherever we were we traveled with the costumes because we couldn't afford to take all the dancers with us all the time. If we were in Spain, we would have Spanish dancers. If we were in Holland, we would get Dutch dancers. But we would pop them into the same costumes so that was the only thing. Now and then the costumes didn't fit. We had to add a few stitches here and there, but it seemed to work alright.

Did you find regional differences between dancers in the film?

Not really, no. They were all actually marvelous people. Dancers are like actors, it's a giving profession. It's not a taking profession, they give us.

How deeply did you need to research the costumes? Does all that stuff even exist anymore?

All those costumes still exist. There's only one copyright situation and that's for "Petrouchka." That was designed by [Alexandre] Benois and they are still trying to sue me. After all this time. But we made sure that the costume was not like the original. You have the feeling that it's "Petrouchka," but everything is different. So I don't know if I have to fight this or what, it's crazy.

The legalities in dance always amaze me, I mean, look at Martha Graham. How do you feel about copyrighting dance? Do you feel like it something to which an individual can hold an intellectual copyright?

No, you have to be very thankful when the Gods have given you some degree of force and power. They give form and shape to things beyond common human existence. If you're allowed to give form and shape to that, that's something you can contribute, but it belongs not to you but to the world. To be able to share that with others is a great joy and should always be a joy. I have had films stolen. I was very thankful that people stole my films and made copies of them because at least I didn't have to push through for people to see it. It was stolen. You go to India and you want to put an Indian song to your film--I've done this once for a film I shot in Greece--I heard this very beautiful song sung by a woman named Rita Gua. She is one of the great Indian singers. I went to her, or rather a friend of mine did, and said, "Can we use this song in this film?" And she said, "I'm so impressed and so thankful that you think my song is good enough to be part of your creation." If I had any American song and I had gone to any American musical situation, they would have charged me $200,000 to use the song. Now, that is very sick. As far as I'm concerned, I'm here, I make a living at what I do, I'm very thankful that I get away with it, but I certainly would not object if anyone wants to steal whatever I've done. I would be flattered and very thankful.

Tell me about this heron image in the film that you use to signify Nijinsky.

Well, it's a cliché, but I needed that bird to fly. To go up, down, etc. and also fly with clipped wings when the mind is becoming too dark. And you can't use a David Attenbourgh image with that, it had to be something else. I went all over the place, to the Black Forest, to the North of Holland, anywhere people told me there were these particular birds. And then I stayed in this house in Holland and I walked down to the park--a five minute walk--and there were these herons sitting in a tree. It was very cold and this incredible bird takes off right above my head as if he knew. And I stood there with my camera and I could not believe it. I fell in the snow backwards as I was filming it. I had never seen a bird like that and it was full frame all the time. I manipulated that myself in the editing. Now if you study it carefully, you'll see that the bird is the actual image of Nijinsky in flight. When he's has sort of elation, the bird zooms up. And then suddenly it slows down or hardly has any wings. So it is some symbol of his spirit. It's a cliché...

But I thought it was very apt and beautiful, I didn't find it cliché at all.

I couldn't think of anything else. I could have used a candle, but it really had to be a bird.

Tell me a little bit about that idea that you mentioned before about the darkening of the mind. The film references Nietzsche pretty early on. What do you think happened in those later years?

Well, Nijinsky says, "My madness is my love for mankind." He was living in a very brutal world, the First World War was millions of people slaughtered. It was very brutal and that hurt him immensely. Insensitivity: people around him hurt him immensely. I think if somebody had just held his head for a little while and loved him properly, I don't think it would have come to this. I think a lot people go mad because they are alone and they are sensitive. They need human warmth and there's little of that to be found.

Do you think the break with Diaghilev had anything to do with his spiral?

Well, but that happened five years before this. Of course, it all accumulated. Diaghilev was like a Hollywood producer, you know, one of those. And not a very nice man. If you read through his diary carefully, he says he forgives Diaghilev, but most of the time everything he mentions about Diaghilev, it's with great mistrust and dislike.

Do you think people like this exist anymore? They really were---both of them--maverick type figures.

I think there are many more of those, but they do not belong to the way the world records it. If you don't have a PR person or you don't know how to sell yourself, you just cannot get anywhere in our world. I think that's the great difference. I think there are thousands of wonderful, creative souls living in great isolation doing their thing as well as they can. We'll never know them, we'll never find them. It's the same when there are scholarships to be had. I think the artists that deserve them would never apply for them. They wouldn't know how to do it. If there's a scholarship, I think people should go out and find these types of artists, but it doesn't work like that. The ones that know how to sell themselves are the ones who get the scholarships in the end, but I'm sure there are many brilliant people. The world is becoming more and more metallic. So many fine people have set out making films. After one or two films, they cannot possibly continue because there's too much shit on all levels. If they want to do anything bigger, they have to sell out. They have to compromise and everything. I think anyone in their right state of mind would try and do something more sensible. I was lucky when I started. If I had to start now, I would never be possible.

By metallic, you're talking about an obsession with the surface?

Celebrating of the surface without an acknowledgment that there is a deeper me, you, I. There's a deeper self. And there's no interaction between the inner and the outer acknowledged, although it happens all the time, otherwise we don't have a human being. But the world celebrates the outside, the exterior, only. And that is what we see. It's what you get. Instant gratification. Instant everything: instant coffee, instant tea, instant marriage. We throw one another out. There's no more proper recognition of that inner and it's like having trees in the park that have no roots. A big wind comes and they all blow over. I think there's a great lack. Like who do we celebrate in our society? It's the shallow people. We have the Madonnas and the Michael Jacksons. Where are the Nijinskys? Or some great writers that'll never really hit the surface. They should be our role models. We have idiots as role models for our children. Total idiots. And what actually do they mean? Because they dress and they have their underpants on and that's why we celebrate them? It's nonsense, isn't it?

So, in the midst of working on such a wonderful project, I have to ask you what's up next?

"Nijinsky" really tested me, I can tell you. The very first interviewer was very funny. He would not believe that I was in anyway in a sane state of mind. I must be stark raving mad to do the things that I did. Yes, there's a degree of insanity, but I think I'm one of the sanest people I know. What is next? I'm trying to do a film--I am doing a film--called "The Human Touch." It's a slightly erotic film on our physical being because the Dutch are deeply into the spirit. I need to restore a little balance so I'm making a film about the flesh. It's, in this case, traveling through the flesh to holiness. And in "Nijinsky," it was the other way around.

Is this erotic film in the new French mold?

No, no. None of that!

I had to ask. To wrap up, is there anything you're excited about while you're in New York in terms of dance?

No, I'm only here briefly to promote, but I do know that the actual center of dance is New York. It's an extraordinary energy and people.

Do you feel that really? Because I'm surprised to hear someone from Holland say that.

Well, because it's not just the companies you have here, but also on a very regular basis you have the biggest and most important companies in the world passing through from Pina Bausch to Netherlands Dance Theatre. They all come here and there's this enormous interest. That's why it's interesting to have "Nijinsky" screening here first. And if it doesn't succeed--and you cannot expect a great success--but if it doesn't succeed on a level here in New York, we can forget about the rest of the world because the interest in dance here is enormous. It's huge and there's a lot of little shops with maniacs that sell only shoes. I've been around here other times and they're total maniacs. I've even been thrown out of a shop here once when I went with Nijinsky's granddaughter, who actually had bought a postcard of her grandfather for $5 in the shop. And she said, "Well how did they get the copyright and this is insane. Everyone has sort of taken this." It was some shop, I can't remember where it is, but it's some mad Russian who owns the place. And I said, "Well, we'll go back and we'll ask the man. I'll pretend I'm your lawyer." So we went to this man and the whole shop was full of Nijinsky paraphernalia. Big posters, all sort of things. It's one of those many mad shops you have here, but that's all stolen material. I said, very politely, "How did you get it?" And he started to scream in Russian and in English and all sort of languages. They were very bad reproductions. He obviously reproduced them from something else and to sell them for $5--they're just little postcards--is insane, but there's so many people for whom Nijinsky is such an icon that people buy this stuff. And I said, "Excuse me, you're talking to his granddaughter here." And he said, "I couldn't give a fuck, out you go." And we were put out in the street. And there's his granddaughter--who I've just met--standing there very sad and upset. We're standing there on the footpath having been thrown out of the shop. But I'm just saying that there are a lot of little shops all around that are fascinated by the dance. In that respect, it is interesting to see what happens. Of course this is not the average film and I don't think it should be for people just interested in the dance. It has nothing to do with it in a way. It's for anybody that's interested in the human condition and the human heart. And in beauty and love, the only things that matter in life. They should see the film.

The diaries are the source material for this film, for anyone who sees it and wants to learn more?