– Mr. Gevorkian, when did you start documenting the liberation of Artsakh?
– I arrived in Armenia in December 1992. I started the work in Karabakh in winter 1993. I think it was at the end of January. So I haven’t been there during the first years of the war in 1991-1992. My arrival coincided with the armistice, and our first shootings were about the cease-fire and they lasted 2-3 months. This was followed by serious action, and our first participation in the war happened in summer 1993, when Armenian forces entered Zangelan, Jabrail and Kubatlu settlements, and by the end of this operation they entered Horadiz station. I think this was the most favorable year for us, because our successful operations began at that time. To some extent, I was involved in the successful operation of the Kelbajar offensive. We found ourselves in Karabakh on board the helicopter with Vazgen Manukyan, several other politicians and military, right on the second day of the Kelbajar offensive. Before that, there was no chance of being there. Well, to some extent, we saw the results of the operation. We worked until May-June 1994 and then the war was over.
– You weren’t in Artsakh in the first phase of the war. Did the intention of traveling there come up later?
– In Ukraine, I had finished filming The Spotted Dog Running at the Edge of the Sea at the Dovzhenko film studio. In 01991, it became the winner of the 17th International Film Festival in Moscow and its promo campaign began in various European cities and film festivals where it again won awards. In this sense, The Spotted Dog Running at the Edge of the Sea was the most successful and interesting work throughout my cinematographic career. It was acclaimed all over Europe. I could have continued working and living in some European country, but I was aware of what was going on at home, so I was just preparing myself to come to Armenia. However, it would be absurd to arrive in Armenia without relevant equipment and preparatory work. So I just dedicated the whole 1992 to creating opportunities for my return.
– How was your preparatory work going? In 1993 you opened Navigator studio. Do you mean it under preparatory work too?
– I’ve approached different people to raise money to start conducting the chronology of the Karabakh war. Unfortunately, I wasted too much time on that. Eventually, a random meeting turned out to be a pivotal moment. One day, I saw musician Levon Oganezov at the Armenian cemetery of Moscow. We weren’t acquainted, so I approached him and introduced myself. He recognized me: it was 1992 and my film was well acclaimed in Moscow in particular. When he learnt of my intentions, he immediately replied, “I’ll call businessman Melik-Pashaev.” We had a meeting with Hovhannes and Sergey Melik-Pashaevs. “Karen, I will help you with this issue,” said Hovhannes Melik-Pashaev laconically. We bought cinematographic equipment with the money he gave and I arrived in Armenia quite prepared technically, aiming to create cinematographic, video and photo chronology. We had cinematographic and photo equipment, but we lacked video technique. This is how Hovhannes and Sergey Melik-Pashaevs helped us, and I am grateful to them and Levon Oganezov. It would be pointless to come to Armenia without that, there weren’t any other priorities.
– Did you start filming immediately after your arrival?
– Initially, I tried to recruit members of the group that was going to implement the project. I applied to professionals at first – the guys at Hayfilm studio. There were amateurs too. This is how the group was created. It wasn’t big and consisted of 12 members. That’s all.
– Do you think you have already exhausted your entire archive?
– Of course not. No doubt, there are still unused materials. I was able to make a full length documentary (with a duration of two hours), Dilemma, but unfortunately, it was made only in Russian. The Armenian version of the documentary has yet to be created. Why I made the film in Russian? The sponsor, Hovhannes Melik-Pashaev, did not know Armenian. Besides, making film in Russian would help us reach out to broader audience. The film told about the war and the post-conflict period: war, victory, economic downfall, looting, negligence of science and production achievements and, ultimately, degradation and other urgent problems of that period. All these phenomena were strongly correlated and were described in the film and gave answer to the following question: “how to live after winning the war?” Today I can see the shortcomings of the film: it was too emotional, perhaps because of the difficult transition period we were going through.
– The film came up with an answer to a difficult and crucial question. How was it received?
-It was marked with interesting coincidence. That very day I presented to Vazgen Sargsyan’s consideration the film and the project of a military vehicle and plane construction. He was impressed both with the film and the project. Eventually, Vazgen spent a night on conversations and discussions with our group. And although he was very impressed, the project remained on the paper. Robert Kocharyan watched the film too, but his perception of the film differed from Sargsyan‘s opinion. As his late brother told me once, Kocharyan looked gloomy and dissatisfied after he had watched the film. In other words, it caused controversial reaction among authorities. The film underlined the necessity of national ideology and offered its model. It was something we’ve never had and current situation is a result of lack understanding the necessity of a unifying ideology. They have failed to realize that we were sorely in need of that ideology. Jewish and Chinese people have their own unifying ideology, and we see the results it brings, and as for us…
– Dilemma is not your only film about the history of the Artsakh liberation. What happened to your other works dedicated to the same issue?
– The War without Comment film series premiered on Armenian Public Television. Armnews showed it too. Photo chronology was presented at three exhibitions, with one of them being organized in Shushi and the other one – in Yerevan. All three exhibitions showcased the same material which I entirely donated to the Museum of Armenian Ethnography a few years ago. I don’t know whether and how it served its purpose.
– And what about storing the materials?
– There are still unused and even destroyed materials. Sadly, a part of the materials was lost at Mosfilm studio. We edited the film there and left the unused materials at the studio, and this was a part of the archive too. I could not afford to keep it myself: we were going through hard times, there was a shortage of funds and there was even a matter of proper existence. It was a difficult moment both for me and for our people. Yet, Mosfilm did not store the materials, and unfortunately, those that weren’t used in the film were simply lost. What was on the video tape has been archived, but the archive needs maintenance too. It needs to be digitized and maintained in digital format. My opportunities are limited here too. After all, it’s hard to indicate the duration of the filmed materials. Besides, the sad reality was that we were short of video tapes. We had to film something, erase it and film again. We destroyed the chronology with our own hands. No one was in charge of mobilizing the documentary materials, while dozens of documentary filmmaking crews should have worked there. No one realized the importance of that process.
– Mr. Gevorkian, during one of your television interviews, you said the following: “There are no walls: every creative thinker should take action and there will be no obstacles in that case.”
– Yes. I’ve done everything on my own, relying on my own forces, efforts and opportunities. Otherwise, I’d do ten times more. Of course, obstacles should be overcome; there have always been and will probably be barriers. The opposite would be abnormal. The thing is that obstacles and enemies are different phenomena. An obstacle is an objective phenomenon, which can be overcome if you try to convince, urge or apply to people or do it through your work and diligence. But if you are facing antagonism, hostility, struggling ignorance and some antinational phenomena, then this is not a struggle, this is war. I think I left Armenia as a winner in two wars: one of them was the entire nation’s war and the second one was my war against the officials. This is something abnormal for me.
– What do you mean?
– Unfortunately, for some reason, I am being rejected in Armenia. This is a mystery, yet a fact. Well, a filmmaker who proposes to start production of armed vehicles and aircraft, or comes up with projects for production capacity maintenance and development… is an abnormal phenomenon, considering that the government’s main occupation is inaction. To me, this equals to treason. It is a treason to build castles and then retreat, lose soldiers and territories… This is what is going on. In these circumstances you are considered insane on a national level and then you are regarded as enemy. I became that enemy long ago, although I never concerned myself with politics, but I opposed the phenomena that have led to the current state of things. Today we are divided, split up, we have been disillusioned and the blunt truth is the only thing that remains. And what conclusions should be made? What decisions should be taken if they consider themselves smart? Maybe we are talented, but we are not smart. We keep adjusting ourselves again, we again underline the necessity of adaptation. Once again, we simply drag out a miserable existence. This is wrong. We have lived this way for centuries. How else should we live if there is a lack of serious attitude? There is a lack of such attitude among us. We have buried ourselves in lie and conformism. We cannot live like that. And, of course, you become an enemy once you start talking about this. Our country is run by lowbrows. That’s just it.
– Didn’t the behaviour and actions of the society during the April war deny conformity? Didn’t they display the people’s willingness to stand up for their own country? Had the April events lasted longer, would you return here and do what you have done during the first phase of the Artsakh war?
– Absolutely. I was ready. There cannot be any other option. You just have to know the difference between outburst, emotions an conscious actions. Such differentiation is especially important at war. You cannot win a victory just on emotions or spirit. Other qualities help you win. You need to have faith in your commander, in your government. And this faith is gone now. Today, victorious deeds last one or two weeks and then this gives way to another state – decline in activity, shattered illusions. Life is a serious thing, but war is even more serious. Yes, when the enemy is coming and there are casualties you have to go and defend your children, your soldiers. This is out of question, but this is no guarantee of victory or even creating a winner country and life in the post-war period.
This reminds me of one episode. The situation is tense in Yerevan. Volunteers and requisitioned civilian personnel gather at the capital regiment. The situation on the frontline is grave. Azerbaijani forces have launched an offensive and are successfully moving forward. There are dozens of buses full of people. They are heading to Karabakh. Vazgen Sargsyan arrives at the place on his white Volga. The buses start off. Those who came to see their loved ones off are gathering at the gates. The crowd – women and children, young and elderly are all crying. There is a hum of voices and noise. The scene is stunning. Meanwhile, the buses head off to the front. They leave the area and the crowd stops the car. Vazgen gets out of the car. There was nothing else left to do but to get out of the car and say: “Listen people, the enemy is approaching, we have fallen on hard times.” The humming won’t calm down and different voices are shouting: “Rascals, your kids are staying here, but you take away our children, our husbands. You are staying here while our boys are going to die there.” The crowd bullyrags Vazgen. At first he tries to speak peacefully, explaining what is happening on the frontline, but he was a hot-tempered person and he slowly begins to shout: “Don’t you understand? The enemy is coming… you are all traitors… I don’t have children, I’m not married…” He was the leader of the nation, the commander of Armenian army, but who knows what would happen in a situation that was out of control if an elderly man didn’t calm the crowd. Do you understand what it is? The mistrust among people was deeply rooted. Can you imagine how that mistrust has increased now? This incident is stuck in my memory. I regret not having a camera, otherwise, this and many other episodes could have turned into discreet and meaningful films. In this sense, as a documentary filmmaker, I lost more than managed to document during the war. We were working without campaigning, without journalistic approach. We filmed whatever we were able to get to see. Yes, we were filming and they tried to shoot us and this is visible too. War is not about editing; war is about duration, about time…
I have to repeat myself: it is impossible to expect ultimate victory in the war relying on outbursts, emotions and spirit. We need a thoroughly trained, tight army operating on modern approaches.
– This might sound strange, but what did the war give you?
– War is about close friendship. There I was first acquainted with a phenomenon of Armenian soldiers. In the Soviet times we weren’t able to dream. But you cannot lie to Armenians. I saw real people during the war and I will never forget them. I never met such people in the post-war period. War has such a coercive power. We were working in spite of time restrictions related to broadcasting of programs and limitations regarding journalistic texts. I consider documenting war as my professional duty which I’ve carried out on my own responsibility and profound understanding. I appreciate and respect my work and memories of those years, but I do not want to return to them. I see my current mission, tasks ahead and goals in more serious things. These serious phenomena are not unavailable, but are denied and still remain rejected. Years of the wartime are dear to me, but they are in the past and although appreciated, they still do not comprise the biggest part of my career. In my opinion, the post-war period embraces the most significant part of my work. This is the time that should be carefully analyzed and this process should lead to the accumulation of new energy that in its turn should develop and transform itself into a driving force bringing progress. This is the main problem. Otherwise, what was the sense of our struggle and aspirations for independence?
– How visible is current reality of Armenia from distance and what is your own reality today?
– I was in a terrible situation. I lived in Armenia for 17 years and nothing worked. It came at a price and I had to move to Russia. Only a week later, I became Associate Professor of St. Petersburg State University of Cinema and Television, where I have been teeching up today. How can one understand this strange process? And this year, I shot a full-length motion picture, All our Hope, which has already been presented at several festivals. I have become a Russian filmmaker. Yet, they might have not remembered me at all. Luckily, it worked out well. I think serious people deserve serious and respectful attitude. I’ve already mentioned Vazgen Sargyan’s reaction after watching Dilemma. “Karen jan, I am surrounded by people who are already irritating me; they are lying to me. Can you give me a list of some 10-15 smart people who have gone through the war?“ he told me once. We compiled that list together with my close friend, physicist Alexander Tamanyan who had taken part in the fighting. Vazgen looked through the list and put it aside. Was that his aim? I did not understand what actually happened. You know, serious people need to be treated seriously. Yes, he was being lied to, but at least it was easy for him to understand those who were lying to him.
*** Karen Gevorkian.Cameraman, screenwriter, director
Gevorian was born in 1941 in Yerevan. A graduate of the All-Union State Institute of Cinematography (ВГИК) Cinematography Department (B. Volchek workshop), he worked At Hayfilm studio in 1963-64.
In 1967, Gevorkian also attended Advanced Directing Courses (L. Trauberg workshop). He continued his career at Mosfilm, Tsentrnauchfilm, as well as Yerevan documentary film studio.
Gevorgyan also worked at Hayfilm studio from 1970 until 1981, when he quit his job after one of the films, A Farewell Beyond the Border was banned. He later worked at Lentelfilm and the Dovzhenko film studio in Kiev.
In 1993, Gevorkian opened Navigator studio within the framework of New Chronicle project and filmed materials right on the battlefield in Artsakh.