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Can the notion of creative happiness match the need to earn an honest living? I, like so many creatives who took the decision to leave the employ of others to run their own businesses, fell in love with the autonomy, the freedom from talentless bosses and, of course, the healthy bank balance – all of which served me well. Yet by the end of the summer of 2004, I realised just how temporary the illusion of creative autonomy is in any deep or meaningful sense. While above decks I felt I was enjoying being fastidiously dependable and professional, in the engine rooms below mutiny was brewing. I realised that my creativity was being starved by my embroilment in gloriously high-profile ‘joining the dots’ exercises. Something had to change. With still propellers and a gentle breeze, I looked to a star to guide me.

Rather than focus in any technical sense on a particular job title or new production, I decided to figure out what I really wanted to produce. The more I thought about it, the more I thought about my muse: music. Thinking back to countless late nights working to never miss a deadline, I remembered a companion who had stayed with me to keep me dreaming: the music and work of Lisa Gerrard. Since hearing Host Of Seraphim in the breathtaking film Baraka, I had been bewitched by one of the most distinguishable voices I’d ever heard. I collected the majority of her work in movie soundtracks (including The Insider, Whale Rider and Gladiator), solo albums and her work with Brendan Perry as part of cult band Dead Can Dance: her voice was such a powerful catalyst for my imagination. It became obvious to me that therein lay my course: to try and visualise the influence and inspiration of an artist into a creative form and, in essence, paint a moving documentary portrait. Having my end in sight, I realised that, by making a documentary film, I could use all the audio/visual skills I had developed over the years.

During the research phase, it became obvious that, despite learning what an amazing person she is, no-one had made a broadcast or commercially available documentary about her, and given her dislike for promoting herself and thereby personifying her music, there was little in the way of visual material. With hindsight, I now view this lack of archive as a double-edged sword. As many documentary filmmakers will tell you, the idea of exclusivity can be a strong selling point. However, the difficulty here is that you are presented with every square foot of undiscovered country, which needs to be quantified into an hour and a half. That’s to say if you are making the second or third film about a person or topic, at least by process of elimination your narrative can gravitate to the areas that haven’t been covered, which can be narrow but easier to focus. Not daunted by this in the slightest and being resolute about the creative vision I had for the film, I had nothing to lose and sent Lisa an email explaining that I had this idea of making an intimate portrait of her in a certain way, and would she be interested? In a few days, a response came back more or less saying, ‘yes’. It was incredible, and one of those moments when you think, ‘what’s happening?’. I already knew that my situation was unusual. To get acceptance that quickly was rare, but knowing Lisa as I do now, I know why. The shock I was feeling was because, having come from a predominantly advertising-based production background, I simply wasn’t used to someone loving an idea and going with it without needing qualification or proof. I knew that once she was happy with my ideas, I needed to get a signed exclusivity letter shielding my investment of time, effort and money and, with that, I started to figure out how this was all going to work.

As my wife is that rare breed – a documentary co-production and acquisition professional – I knew I had a wealth of knowledge at my disposal before I started. Listening to her experiences on other productions, I already had a pretty good grasp of ‘the ways of making a documentary’. Funding and creating a team seemed to be the starting point. Straight away, and by no means an excuse not to listen to my wife, those two givens went straight out of the window.

Funding

The received wisdom, especially within the horribly blinkered creative UK documentary scene, was that even if you’ve got an idea and an exclusivity letter, as a first time director without a proven track record, the chances of obtaining any kind of money from a broadcaster or funding organisation such as Media are slight, possibly even non-existent. Even if you were lucky, the whole process could take six to 12 months, or even longer. At the time, and still now, this situation repulses me. I understand financial caution, as there are a huge number of timewasters who couldn’t put a film together if they bought it flatpacked from Ikea with instructions. What I reject is that broadcasters such as the BBC, who pride themselves in extolling the virtues of fostering new talent, show incredible prejudice towards experience and track record without entertaining the thought that someone such as myself could have the production skills that, in many ways, far exceed those needed for factual point-and-shoot documentary.

It being November, and with me knowing that the shoot needed to start in February due to the reformation of Dead Can Dance and having to film their rehearsals before a European tour kicking off on 10 March, I knew I didn’t have the time to even go there when it came to trying to convince broadcasters to part with cash (which I needed but didn’t want the conditions attached). I didn’t want to entertain the thought of making a creative film while relinquishing editorial control to a broadcaster who I speculated would be more inclined to temper ideas down to fit as big a mass audience as possible. In a climate of garnering viewer ratings, tying in commercial revenues, trash reality documentary and a general adversity to anything different, I never really thought of making a film for broadcast in the first place. Together with the possible pressure and production methodology that is often imposed in co-production deals with channels, I knew the interference would make things miserable. Wasn’t that where I had just come from when I worked for other people?

The solution? Well, I decided to go it alone. It seemed the only way I could keep artistic freedom, not have any deadlines and allow my relationship and journey with Lisa to evolve organically so that she would remain comfortable with the whole process. I cared more about doing justice to my subject, who was now a friend, creating a film of worth and evolving as a creative individual to boot. However, I knew that having to work on the film and keep other sideline work going would be hard to manage, but not impossible. Of course, it would prove to be difficult, worrying and nerve-racking, but I had never been so resolute in my life.

Team

Knowing that money would be an issue, I knew that my options here would be limited. Having an aversion to the notion of hiring people for no pay, I was reluctant from the start to get others involved in any major way. If they weren’t deep fans of Lisa’s work, how could I expect them to give the dedication I was prepared to give to finish the film? If they were fans, how could I expect them to take financial risks for a vision I wanted to be guardian of? Besides, in running my business more or less single-handed, I already had experience of filming, editing, 3D animation, compositing, music and DVD production, and knew there was nothing required that I couldn’t handle.

At first, it seemed almost romantic that I was going to give everything to follow this muse and produce a singular vision entirely single-handedly. In reality, I’m exhausted after completing the filming in LA, New York and Australia, as well as the edit, graphics and sound, only to have to then design the website, DVD content, including 5.1 surround, and DVD packaging, and then find time to worry about press, festivals and broadcast sales before I can officially say, ‘it’s finished’. With my experience of writing numerous reviews and getting my hands on the kit earlier than the resellers, I knew the technology was there. The biggest example of this was getting hold of the Sony FX1 and seeing what HDV could really do. At that point, I knew there was an affordable way of shooting a documentary that would look great.

HDV

Back towards the end of 2004, Sony hit the market with the FX1 consumer HDV camera. Having tested it when it first arrived in the country and been very impressed, I knew that its soon-to-be-released sibling, the pro-spec Z1, would be my weapon of choice. The anticipated climate within the industry at the time was confused, anxious and excited about what these cameras were going to represent. About to shoot a major documentary, I of course needed to take some note of the attitude of broadcasters. In a nutshell, and even still today, they don’t really have a clue. With their heads crammed with full-on HD, HDV was very much the partycrasher they didn’t see coming, and they’ve tried their best to play down its abilities. I think the underlying reason back at the beginning of 2005 was the lack of decent HDV-compliant editing and post software. Avid and Apple, the two darlings of editing, were way off having full HDV compatibility. On asking a fairly senior sales manager for Avid in the UK when they would be ready with an HDV upgrade for Xpress Pro, his answer suggested they were still having problems with breaking into the 15 GOP compression blocks to achieve frame-accurate cutting. However, a voice behind us from one of the Avid European technical managers who overheard the answer said, ‘oh, we’ve figured that out now’. Brilliant. Well done guys. But then I thought, how come Canopus figured it out months ago and have come to market with a system that works beautifully?

Having tested Edius Pro HD in November 2004, I knew that this was my only option for editing and that it would do the job easily. Putting its HDV abilities to one side, its ability to mix and match resolutions, region formats and play them back in realtime was going to prove invaluable. With the extremely kind cooperation of Steve Wise at Canopus, I was sent the Edius SP for HDV kit and, having got hold of one of the first Z1s in the country, I had my core kit to get going.

In effect, I overruled the reluctance of broadcasters to adopt the HDV format. I saw its creative potential in giving me amazing resolution, if used in the right way and with the right attention paid to lighting, and all for a very small financial outlay. I wasn’t disappointed in the slightest with the results it achieved, and knew that knowing post production pretty well, I could work out any problem areas that compression artifacting might raise.

Long road ahead

What lay ahead of me was a road that would prove to be the most incredible first experience anyone could hope for. Filming the intimacy of the Dead Can Dance rehearsals in Ireland, filming on stage during the tour, spending an amazing two weeks in Australia interviewing Lisa about all aspects of her life and work and developing a closer friendship, contacting and interviewing people such as Michael Mann, Hans Zimmer, Graeme Revell, Harry Gregson Williams, Mark Magidson, Pietro Scalia, Niki Caro in LA and London and even getting a commitment from Russell Crowe to supply an interview based on my questions. Once this was done, the incredibly fulfiling editing and visual FX process, where the crafting of an hour and a half of stream of consciousness (which can be informative and structured without the need of a voiceover) was an absolute affirmation that I was finally in the place I originally sought. More of this to come.

I have to stress that my reasons for making life extremely difficult by going it alone were not driven by a desire to be masochistic or foolhardy. Of course, before filming began, I had second thoughts about whether it was worth the financial risk or whether I could do it all myself. However, two factors always prevailed in my logical reasoning. First, since I became a professional in this industry, I have always rejected convention. I remember an old boss telling me that a design I’d done for a letterhead couldn’t work simply because ‘letterheads aren’t done that way’. Says who? On many occasions, my wife and other friends in the documentary industry threw the documentary rule book at me in judging whether it was or was not acceptable to make a film in the way I was. Which book? Where is it? Since when does someone’s interpretation of a truth, experience or fact become a rule for others? Not in my book! And that doesn’t exist either.

Second, I knew that it was important for me to approach the making of the film in a similar vein as Lisa’s approach to singing. Method filmmaking if you will. Since she has an extremely instinctive and improvisational approach to her performance, I wanted to try and mirror that by trying not to be too considered in what or how I filmed, and the same in the edit: just to allow each time I was around her to develop and flow naturally and organically.

Something that became of paramount importance to me was not only having the trust of your subject but also the personal rapport. Before meeting in person, Lisa and I had built an understanding and basis for a friendship over the phone, which became galvanized once we were physically in the same space. Again, in hindsight, this was everything. To allow someone to come into your life to make a film about you, what you do, who you do it with and what they think about how you do it, is not an easy decision. Knowing how sensitive she is, I became aware that if I was going to shoot anything of worth, I had to be conscious of her feelings and attitudes to a degree that would often walk close to not achieving certain objectives for the film, but ultimately ensured that I wouldn’t betray the trust and belief she had shown in me from the offset. I wonder if it’s written in that mythical How To Make a Documentary book that it is right for you to be a decent guy before being a director?

• You can find more information about Sanctuary and acquire the DVD at www.sanctuary-lisagerrard.com

Read the next part of Clive's experiences producing Sanctuary in our Cinematography section

From lens to screen

Clive Collier