Show all articles

Goert Giltay - Zen and the Art of Tightrope Walking

Amsterdam, 2023-11-29 - Gerlinda Heywegen

On a windy day in early autumn, director of photography Goert Giltay (1952) talks about his work in his hometown of Harlingen. Sometimes a little hesitantly, but more often with a great deal of enthusiasm. But where should you start if you have participated in about 150 productions?

picture: Florian Giltay - on the set of 'Kurai Kurai' |  Kyrgyzstan (2014)

He is a multiple award-winning DOP; two ‘Gouden Kalf’ awards at the Netherland Filmfestival (a career award in 1993 and Best Cinematography for Jos Stelling’s Het Meisje En De Dood/ The Girl And Death in 2012), the Silver Frog at Camerimage Poland (1995 for Jos Stelling’s De Vliegende Hollander/The Flying Dutchman) and recently Best Cinematography Award at the Talinn Black Nights Festival (2023 for Jos Stelling's De Dans Van Natasja/Natasja's Dance). Goert relates: 'By coincidence, I watched Bluebird (Mijke de Jong, 2004) the other day. I had not seen it for a long time and I quite liked it. It remains odd to rewatch your own work, but when more time has passed, it gets somewhat easier. Especially in the beginning, when a film is just finished, I really cannot watch it. I read that even a celebrated cameraman like Robert Richardson ASC, who has often worked with Tarantino and Scorsese, finds it really hard to see his work again. Even though that is totally unnecessary.' Giltay laughs to reinforce what he just said and goes on to say that he himself has not made anything to be embarrassed about either: 'It is more about the fact that I have to get used to the film, also because it can, for instance due to the editing, be really different from what I expected.'

picture: Mark de Blok NSC - 'Natasja's Dance' (2023)

When Jos Stelling announced that De Dans Van Natasja (2023) would be his last film, Giltay decided that he should follow suit. ‘Natasja’ premiered at the Nederlands Film Festival in Utrecht and Giltay was happy to be there. Later on in the conversation, he will say: 'Never say ‘never’. But I think I am good with this.'
He says it feels strange to look back upon all his films in such a compressed way. His laptop with his own website is ready on the kitchen table to look up years 'and stuff like that' in case films pop up in the conversation where he does not recall all details. Giltay often laughs and seems to mainly have adhered to the harmonious work model in his working life: 'When you first start working with a director, you always have to get a feel for one another for a bit. But I find that it is no use to start working against one another. When you want to do totally different things, then you, as a DOP, should simply not take on the film. In my case, a mutual feeling of what the film in question needed almost always developed along the way. I became friends with most directors.'

'Of course you bring along your own taste, when you start shooting. And then you will start looking for the best form per director or per project. That is the chameleon-like approach that is inherent to our profession. I had shot two feature films with Digna (Sinke), Boven De Bergen (1992) and Belle Van Zuylen (1993) and got to work with Frans (Weisz) after that. He felt my work for Digna’s films was just too ‘angular’. Staccato, something like that. Frans has a penchant for traveling scenes, everything in flow. But for me, things worked well with both of them.'

picture: Dinand van der Wal - 'Bluebird' (2004)

Despite the differences, throughout the years, Giltay often heard that colleagues recognised his signature. 'Most times they mentioned the lighting and furthermore, it may have to do with a certain calmness. That is a word I heard often.' He comes up with an example immediately. And again it is Bluebird about a thirteen year old girl who is being bullied. It slowly changes her into a reserved, sad child. 'That shot of the girl’s face when she is in the pool. Mijke and I wanted to protract that for the longest time. All kinds of things are happening all around her. You can hear the pool attendant give instructions, countless things are being shouted, but you cannot see it happening, you just see her face. Everything surrounding the girl dropped away. Nowadays you see that a lot, but back then it was fairly new. Maybe we were just at the beginning of that trend.'

Giltay recalls a documentary he shot for broadcast company VPRO when he had just started out as DOP. 'I was already smitten by Antonioni at the Filmacademie (Film Academy Amsterdam),' he recounts. 'I mainly shot documentaries in the first 10 to 20 years and in those I tried to use some of his style at times. I made Aan De Rand Van Nederland (1979) for the VPRO, a travel report of a travelogue and actually a portrait of writer Bob den Uyl. For this documentary, we made a sort of daytrip by train to Visvliet, somewhere between Leeuwarden and Groningen (GH: two cities in the far north of the Netherlands). It was winter, with beautiful low light, it had snowed. We were at a small train station, and I was already filming. This guy comes cycling towards us from the distance, het was quite small. I decide to keep rolling, the man keeps on cycling and right in front of my camera he makes a circle and then cycles back slowly. It is hard to explain, but that was just so Antonioni. That was a gift I was given. I left the camera ‘rolling’ intentionally for as long as I could. Not thinking consciously of Antonioni at that time, but it was in me, his influence. Godard put it like this at the time: that you would want documentaries to look like feature films and feature films to look like documentaries.'

Giltay enjoyed his years at the Filmacademie. He studied there from 1972 to 1976. The academy was not at its best, he says, but he fondly remembers the nights Dutch director Pieter Verhoeff was allowed to organise. 'He invited all kinds of filmmakers to talk about their work. I really enjoyed that. Real-life stories. And you could go to the cinema for free. So I went three times a night. The education I got there was a good start for me. Although now it has been proven that you do not necessarily have to attend it.' Giltay laughs, clearly enjoying a private joke. He feels his career went relatively fast. His film Nisse, Een Dorp which he made with Filmacademie classmate Jeroen Visser was aired by the VPRO. Giltay quickly looks up the year on his website and it turns out to be 1979; the same year in which he made Aan De Rand Van Nederland with Theo Uittenbogaard. Those were exciting years. “There were a few camera people who did all the work. Paul van den Bos, Ruud de Bruyn, Mat van Hensbergen, those were the guys. When I had shot the material, I was very nervous about how it would turn out, especially because back then everything was shot on reversal. That material had a very small range and it could easily be too dark or too light. It was a bit like tightrope walking. I know that the most highly reputed camera people are nervous wrecks when it comes to their rushes. But Theo Uittenbogaard called me from the editing room and said he was really pleased, especially with the ‘palette’ I had chosen.' Giltay laughs even harder: 'It is funny – they had their own way of talking at the VPRO at the time.'

Shift
'I had already shot quite a number of documentaries, when I was asked for Ine Schenkkan’s Vroeger Is Dood (1987). I shot it on 16 mm. The film was well-received and won Dutch film awards (Gouden Kalveren) for best film and best actress (Jasperina de Jong). It has this one scene in which Jasperina wanders through her empty parental home. You can see her somewhere in a room, the curtains are closed and only a few light beams shine through. Like in a small cathedral. Jos Stelling had seen that and he thought it was beautiful. When he made De Wisselwachter (1998) I shot a few days for the documentary that was being made about the film. So I was on set filming the set. When it turned out there was no DOP available for the last shooting period of the film itself in Scotland in winter, Jos remembered me, or actually, he mainly remembered that scene from Ine’s film, and so I shot that episode. As of then, I shot all of his work.'

De Wisselwachter was, then, Giltay’s shift to feature films. He cherishes the long-lasting collaborations with various directors and mentions Heddy Honigmann, Rudolf van den Berg, Ramon Gieling, Frans Weisz. He grabs Dagboek van een Filmmaker (Diary of a film maker) a book with Weisz’ diary records compiled by Harry Hosman. Giltay reads an excerpt about Een Vrouw Van Het Noorden (1999) aloud: 'Tomorrow will be the test with Johanna Ter Steege. We will try very hard to capture Johanna’s glamour.'

picture: Pief Weyman - Goert and Frans Weisz

Giltay remembers it well and tells how they wanted to create this glamour with filters for instance, but when they saw the rushes, the result was horrible. Laughing loudly: 'It looked like David Hamilton!' And then adding grudgingly: 'That was not what we wanted.'
Een Vrouw Van Het Noorden was a hard production. But then again, Giltay feels every film is. 'But this one definitely too, also because it was a co-production. We worked with a mixed crew, with Italian lighting technicians, for instance. Especially at that time, they were experts in creating direct light, with focussed spots. They excelled at that. But I came from a totally different atmosphere. Sven Nykvist (DOP for Ingmar Bergman and Andrei Tarkovski) and the like. That indirect lighting that is being reflected via surfaces. But the Italians were not used to that. We shot a scene, for instance, in which the sun shot upwards ever so beautifully via the floor. The floor’s warm colour was really well-suited for that. So that is what I wanted, but within moments, it was covered in polystyrene. Done with the best intentions. They could not understand that I wanted things differently. In the Netherlands, those things went without saying. Co-productions can be tough.'

Jumping right into the new century, Giltay talks about Kurai Kurai - Tales On The Wind (2014), filmmaker and artist Marjoleine Boonstra’s debut feature film, which was shot in Kyrgyzstan. The film is described as a visual road movie and is a collection of stories about ordinary people, gathered together by the Kurai. Desolate places, a lot of dessert, salt plains and always the kurai tumbleweed, which is mainly known from westerns and rolls through the scenes with great symbolic value. That surely, must have been a hard shoot as well? As it turns out: not so much, Giltay says. 'We had a small camera crew, which we had partially brought along from the Netherlands. Although there was a funny incident. We would get lighting from Kyrgyzstan. That had ‘all been taken care of’ as they say. We had cooked up plans for some ambitious night shots in the landscape. So when the time came to check the lamps, we came to a gigantic building, a leftover from the flourishing Soviet film industry. All equipment would be in the basement. What we found, was two small Kinoflows. The rest had been given to another production a few weeks before. Do you know Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance? That is what I experienced then. Just staring for a bit then, something like that.
When I had gathered myself again, I proposed: ‘Let’s do it day for night’. The weather was fine enough for it. It was clear with a bright blue sky. By making the shots a cooler shade later on, we created an enchanting night atmosphere. I thought it turned out really beautiful, perhaps more beautiful than we could have achieved with the lights we thought we would use. We travelled a lot for the film and I have nothing but fond memories of it.'

picture: Florian Giltay - on the set of 'Kurai Kurai' |  Kyrgyzstan (2014)

When it comes to preparations, Giltay tells a concise story. 'What I usually do, when I get a script, is look for the most complicated parts. In this case, the night scenes were the big challenge, of course, the desert, mainly the dust, the batteries, the cold and certain camera movements. In short, I identify challenges. What do I need, what will we take along? An inventory of all items needed in order to shoot it as the script specifies. What I can bring along myself and what will I have to hire locally.'
Giltay talks about the fantastic old crane they could get on the cheap in Kyrgyzstan, ‘An awesome thing’. 'Apparently, making films was quite good in the ‘old Soviet days’ and everything was still there. Like that enormous crane, a truck with that thing mounted on it, as well as unsurpassed operator, who only spoke Russian and slept in the cabin. I sat right there, and in sign language, I could get across what I wanted just fine. Made awesome shots with him.'

Earlier, Giltay talked about rewatching his own work. But what is it like for him to see other people’s work, does he do that often? 'I mainly look at the light. Light was always the most fun for me. And yes, in the seventies, Robby Müller was definitely an inspiration. The master of light. In dusk, blinking neon lights, that night sky, we all wanted that after he introduced it. And yet, his light is very different from mine. When I watch some of his films again now, Robby uses direct lighting more than I remembered. When I started out, I tended to make scenes look like we didn’t use it. Tastes develop over time. Since the introduction of the videoclip, visual language, including my own has changed substantially. Also due to the introduction of the digital camera and LED light, of course. In the blink of an eye, you turn green into red. You can recognise that in almost all current films. And it feels great to do that every once in a while. But what made De Dans Van Natasja so special, was that Jos really wanted black and white, which made me ever so happy. He wanted it right from the beginning, but was hesitant to say it aloud, because he feared that it would make financing harder. But he had made a teaser for broadcasting company AVRO and the producer there was highly enthusiastic. So, we had a go! I admire directors for their endurance when it comes to defending their project endlessly. They are the true heroes of cinema.'

NEW DEAL
Five years ago now, the NSC presented the New Deal, the proposed new way of making films that should improve Dutch productions and definitely also the way they come about. What does Giltay think about that, with all his experience?
'I also think that I, as a DOP, am there to support the director,' he says about the pamphlet 'also when it comes to choosing a crew. I always try and set up a nice team that suits the film and try to arrange the set in such a way that we can take people’s personalities into account. There are rigid professionals who can only do it one way. I think that is utter nonsense. You can do everything in a different way.' He recalls a running gag he and director Ramon Gieling repeat every time they start making a new film. 'This one time we made a location visit and took along the prospective sound technician. He walked around and clapped his hands to test the acoustics. After a while he said to Ramon: ‘So you want to film here’.' Laughing: 'We still imitate him often, an inside joke.'

'Erbarme Dich' (2015)

Giltay then recalls the ‘renowned’ breakdown meeting: 'Terrible, but essential. Everyone gathered together in order to discuss all the script’s aspects and what is needed. I have had it happen too often that the director, who has, after all, worked for years to get the script done, with financing to boot, is bombarded with questions like ‘how do you think you will get that done’. I was amazed that abroad I was asked for my opinion and was actually listened to. Whilst here, in the Netherlands, you mainly have to survive.'  He fondly remembers a breakdown classic, the so-called ‘wet down’: when the streets had to be wet at night. 'Because that is so wonderfully gorgeous and can be lit in such a beautiful way. In Duska (2007, Jos Stelling) we had such beautiful locations, such as the Marnixstraat (Amsterdam). You can call it a cliché, but it is just so genuinely beautiful. You get that light bouncing back so wonderfully. But the fire brigade has to get involved to keep the streets wet and, of course, the producer then thinks: ‘Oh dear, what is that going to cost me?’. It is such a simple way to make something beautiful and no, it is definitely not always motivated from the script. If there is any way to do it …'
He talks about various scenes he shot with Stelling for Duska but also ‘Natasja’. Giltay: 'You start your day like you have all the time in the world and in the end, you are always short on time. And that is the moment that you get to concentrate and sometimes it gets better due to that. In Duska there is, at the end of the film, for instance, a fight scene in quite a dark room. Earlier in the day we had talked about filming up close, which camera movement, etc. In the end, I just positioned the camera as far away as possible, which enables you to see the room and the fighting. It also meant that it did not become an endless montage scene. Much more beautiful and intriguing. It worked, in short, really well. I like films where shot stand for a while, a bit against the standards. For example Roma (2018) by Alfonso Cuaron (GH: he shots this film himself), or Neon Bull (2015), shot by Diego Garcia.

In De dans Van Natasja something similar occurred. We wanted to film in this brasserie, but it turned out that it was a highly expensive location; we could only work there for a short time. But we had planned quite a few scenes there. Then Jos and I came up with the idea to shoot the scene in which Natasja is being harassed by her ex in that restaurant entirely from main character Daan’s point of view. He is filming outside, in front of the window. No individual shots of all those actions, no close-ups. It turned out really beautiful, I think the effect is right and furthermore an example of how economy sometimes helps you with the best way of story telling. As Jos always says: ‘make of your obstacle a stepping stone’.'

picture: Pief Weyman - on set of 'Een Vrouw Van Het Noorden' (1999)

Towards the end of the conversation, Giltay states, quite matter of factly, that it is so hard to make a good film. Shortly before, he has read in Frans Weisz’ diary, Een Vrouw Van Het Noorden came out on 30 September 1999 with four copies and only 7,469 visitors in the end. During that production, Giltay had flown into a rage one time. 'That only happened once every one or two years,' he says. 'It must have been the result of the accumulation of problems that we experienced at that moment. Apparently, Frans asked me something at that moment that was the final straw. I can still remember the moment in which I made that odd little jump which Frans describes as cartoonish, but I no longer recall the reason behind it. But I almost cried with rage. I think Frans was pressuring me or something. I gave him a fright and after that it was over. It was just exhaustion that hit everyone overwhelmingly.'

picture: on set of 'Erbarme Dich' (2015)

Giltay called directors the true heroes of cinema. He probably sells himself short that way. When asked, he talked about guarding films, something he did as a matter of fact. For Ramon Gieling’s documentary Erbarme Dich (2015) for instance, in which the director explores stories about the Matthäus Passion and enlightens us about the meaning of Bach’s work for, amongst others, theatre director Peter Sellars, painter Rinke Nijburg but also an Amsterdam choir for the homeless. 'The way several characters look directly into the camera, especially Peter Sellars, was something beautiful. I truly embraced Gieling’s idea. Ramon is such a good storyteller; I could really enjoy that.'
He was the help and stay of many directors. With whom Giltay had so much fun, spent many exhausting hours, days and, in the end, sometimes even years, and filled a website with over 150 titles, but in fact mostly an endless number of memories.
Frans Weisz wrote a dedication once, on a crew photo of Op Afbetaling (1992), for ‘his friend Goert’:
You have once again made my dreams come true
and pulled me through a lot, truly: a lot.
I hope for a long and joint road ahead of us, filled with dreams.’ 

Author: Gerlinda Heywegen
translation: Sonja Barentsen