Prolific filmmaker Charles Burnett is virtually unknown to anyone who is finely tuned to the mainstream. The humble director, working behind the lens on such works as Killer of Sheep, To Sleep With Anger (a film that catapulted the career of Danny Glover and features what is still hailed as his greatest performance) and the short, When It Rains, has made a career of dodging the fame — and notoriety — of the industry he loves while still managing to impact it profoundly.
“The best qualities of Burnett’s films are the very things that make them a tough-sell in the mass media world,” says local film connoisseur Dennis Darrell, who is one of the driving forces behind this weekend’s Burnett retrospective. “Burnett presents his characters in the round, justifying themselves to themselves. In industry terms, that means there’s no one to root for. At its best, his work is not easily digestible at one sitting; these films ask us not to judge them too quickly. In industry terms, that means they’re slow and boring. Finally, he’s black, and he rejects sensationalism, stereotype and genre convention in favor of human-scaled, richly observed tales of African-American life. In industry terms: He’s got no chance.”
Not so in Charlotte. The first annual NoDa Film Festival focused on black filmmakers and, of course, Burnett was a part of that grand event alongside his contemporaries. This time around, Charles Burnett has been given a film festival all his own.
I recently sat down to talk with Mr. Burnett about his journey, the path of the independent filmmakers, and how to tell a black story:
Creative Loafing: Where do you usually get the ideas for your movies?
Charles Burnett: It’s something I’m interested in, some facet of life or something that all of a sudden catches my fancy. Like with To Sleep With Anger, for example, I was concerned about the effect of folklore on culture and how important it was in all of history.
You were going to school to be an engineer, to get a degree in electronics, and you just decided to become a filmmaker. What happened that sparked that change?
Well, I think I always wanted to do something in the arts. When I was in electronics, I had to sort of choose something to have a career in, and it was just “OK, I did well in that.” I got disenchanted with the whole idea of the kind of lifestyle that you lived in that area because you had to specialize. Some of the people that came back to school that I took classes with were kind of strange people. They were kind of dumb. They seemed to laugh at these bland jokes. They were dependent by job security and felt secure after they would be there for 20 years, with a three- or four-week vacation and a Winnebago, and that was the extent of their ambition. But I liked going to see movies a lot. I was going to school and I had a job downtown at the library, so in between the two, I had a lot of time, so I just went to the movies and thought “That’s what I want to do.” A lot of us got into filmmaking in the 1960s, the late 60s and 70s, to make movies that reflected our experience. And so we’re a part of America, making American movies. To tell our stories in a manner that’s, you know, acceptable. To make people aware of who we are as people.
What was the movie that sparked the flame?
I think there were a whole bunch of them, but one that I was really moved by was Jean Renoir’s The Southerner (1945), which deals with sharecroppers. I was really moved by that just because of the way it treated both the black and white subject matter.
Is the way you tell a story, in a very honest manner, the reason why your films haven’t been picked up by the mainstream?
No, it’s just that there are two things. One, I think you have to make a movie that is commercially successful and looks like it’s making a lot of money, but also the fact that I think we have to get black audiences out there, that are going to the theater to support the movies that are worthwhile. It is a matter to some extent of re-educating people. Not necessarily re-educating, but informing them that if you don’t go out and support good movies, that it gives Hollywood the signal that you’re not interested in good movies, in movies that reflect reality. And so, they keep bringing out movies that are the same old film. Everyone looks at reality different. Everyone has their own story and you hope that you share a lot with other people, but that might not necessarily be true. You just make it and hope that someone does like it.
Do you have a favorite experience among your movies?
The short I did, When It Rains, was a lot of fun because I had freedom. I was in total control; I could do whatever I wanted to. There was no one standing over my shoulder with a whip.
A lot of people that go to movies don’t ever get to know the director’s perspective. What is it that you see as a director from your angle behind the camera?
It’s wanting to be realistic about the portrayal of black people, and also about telling good stories. And I think you’re indebted to your community, the future community and kids and stuff like that because you’re the one who spends time shaping the sensibilities of folks in the world. It’s a big responsibility, if you look at it as more than just a means of entertaining people.
Are you working on something right now?
I just finished this film on Namibia and SWAPO (South West Africa People’s Organization). It’s called Namibia: The Struggle for Liberation. We shot it entirely on location.
How was that experience?
It was really interesting. It was very challenging for our first-time producers on the film, as well as for the country’s government. It was the first time producing a film of this size. But we had a lot of people’s commitment and help. You go somewhere and you have elephants blocking your way to get to a location. It was a learning experience, let’s put it that way.
Any film that you think needs to be made that hasn’t been made yet?
Oh, there’s a lot of films that need to be made. There’s a lot of history that we were involved in. Look at or read the slave narratives. African-American, Native American — all these people who don’t have a voice. There’s so much in black history that people don’t know.
This article appears in Aug 22-28, 2007.
