Rob Munday
From witchcraft to the evil eye, cultures around the world have long believed in evil spirits and have developed various rituals for protection against them. Throughout Africa and the Middle East they have the hamsa, in Italy they have the mano cornuta and in Bulgaria they have Kukeri – a tradition where participants dress in elaborate furred costumes to chase of the bad juju. Killian Lassablière’s visually-striking nine-minute documentary, Kukeri, explores the specifics of this Bulgarian ritual, before expanding to the roots of tradition and why some endure through years of change.
From the opening shot of Lassablière’s documentary, where the camera slowly pans to a room full of seven costumed figures, it’s easy to see why somebody (or something) would be frightened of the Kukeri. Standing ominously in various scenarios, the director captures them as otherworldly beings, his moving portraits of the Kukers, whether sitting at a table or grouped in the snow, are naturally imbued with a sinister feel. We’re almost two-minutes into the short before we finally get a glimpse of the humans underneath the unusual garb and although that foreboding atmosphere remains, we start to see a glimpse of the heart of this narrative – the community beneath the costumes and why the continue this thousand-year-old ceremony.
“I discovered the custom of Kukeri through a photo series captured by Charles Freger (Wilder Man) and instantly became fascinated by the mystery that emanated from it”, Lassablière reveals as we discuss the origins of his film. “Through making this film, my hope was for the viewer to understand the reason why so many Bulgarians decide to carry on this tradition. However, in order to convey that message, I first needed to understand it myself”.
“How does a 4000 year old tradition continue to survive? And most importantly why?” – these questions motivated Lassabliére throughout his production
To do just that, the director travelled to Bulgaria on various occasions in the year leading up to the shoot, so he could meet with as many Kukeri practitioners as possible. This preproduction stage was vital to the film’s development, as not only did Lassablière meet the participants of his documentary he got to know their individual motivations – “family tradition, faith in the outcome, adrenaline of the performance” – and their common goal – “the overwhelming desire to forge a strong connection with each other, a bridge to other generations”. With the latter in mind, Kukeri becomes more than just an aesthetically-pleasing profile doc, as its core message gives the short the lasting impact it needs to lives with its viewers long after watching.
After travelling to Bulgaria and recording interviews, the filmmaker was then able to create a rough structure with his editor and form his aesthetic choices around this. “A big part of the Kukeri tradition lies in the details of the costumes themselves, with each village maintaining its own distinct aesthetic”, Lassablière explains and the director wanted to pay tribute to this by putting the focus on the outfits in his production. To do this they decided to shoot each band of Kukers in exactly the same way – central composition with a wide lens, the camera slowly orbiting the participants – so the filmmaking remains consistent, while the costumes change. Although the end product is very slick, the director admits that the process was very “run & gun”, with his crew relying on available light and any locations they could find nearby. If this is what Lassablière can produce working on the fly, I can’t wait to see what he can do with more time and resources available.