KING OF THE INDEPENDENTS

“THE MUSIC and artistic expression of this country is one of its great resources,” Philip King proclaims from behind the desk in his office in Hummingbird Productions’ Ringsend HQ. “We don’t have any oil, we don’t have any coal, but our resource is our imagination, and that imagination has been harnessed by great writers, musicians, film-makers and others, and it reflects the life of the country. I think it would be wonderful from a cultural point of view if we told our own stories for ourselves and also if we produced them at a standard that is as good as anybody else, anywhere in the world, and then sold these programmes abroad.”

Hummingbird has been doing just that for the last ten years. Formed in 1987, this independent company has made a string of well-respected and ambitious documentaries investigating the origins and nature of Irish music and culture, and the impact it has had abroad. From the labyrinthine Bringing It All Back Home and A River Of Sound, to the Sult series featuring Donal Lunny, to profiles of Christy Moore and Liam O’ Flynn, to films about Daniel Lanois and Elvis Costello, Philip King has acquired an impressive reputation as a film maker.

However, it has been no small source of frustration to this singer-turned-player that, in making these films, he has received as much support from non-domestic sources such as Channel 4, the BBC and even Warner Brothers in the UK and America as from Radio Teilifís Éireann. And with the advent of digital television, the imminent multiplicity of channels, and the long-awaited arrival of TV3, King feels that it is incumbent on the national broadcaster to celebrate Irish culture.

“That’s its job,” he maintains. “We here in the independent community are a resource to be tapped into, to work with the national broadcaster to try and bring these things about. I think that there is a cache abroad at the moment, people like Martin McDonagh, Conor McPherson, I Went Down, the Riverdance thing, Donal Lunny and Sinéad O’ Connor, but I wonder that if the film comes to be made about Martin McDonagh – as it certainly will – will it be a South Bank Show or an Arena, or will RTE make that film in-house, or deal with an independent producer like me in a joint venture to go and celebrate this man’s achievement?”

According to King, Hummingbird’s relationship with RTE has often been a case of one-step forward, two steps back. He readily admits that his company has been extremely fortunate, yet cannot but feel puzzled, not so much at the lack of RTE commissions over the last five years, but their refusal to enter into any kind of dialogue about the ideas he has submitted. Hummingbird’s impressive pedigree seems to have no impact on the national broadcaster.

“What I am asking for, as someone with ten years of track record, is that that track record is taken into account when you approach them,” King explains. “That you would have some status, that you’re seen as a serious operator who keeps a small company afloat by trying to produce quality material, and that the national broadcaster treats seriously the projects we bring to their attention.

“But the independent television world is a very difficult one, and what’s happening is that there’s a sort of a dumbing down going on, and the area that is left for quality television, because it costs money to make, is quite small. So therefore, with the type of work that we do, it’s more and more difficult with all television stations, RTE included, to get your work commissioned.

“Hummingbird’s relationship with RTE began around ten years ago when we made Bringing It All Back Home,” he continues. “It took, from the moment of inception to execution, a full five years to convince a series of broadcasters that (i) this was a good idea, (ii) we had the ability to realise the project, and (iii) the list of artists we had were not just a list of names, but people that we had talked to and convinced to contribute to the programme.

“But when it eventually went on to win National Primetime Emmy for the version done with Disney, and also a Jacob’s Award, I thought, ‘God, this is great, it’s going to be possible for us now, with a track record, to have easier access to the national broadcaster and be able to convince them more easily that they should work with us.’ That was not the case. In other words, the five-year process was still there. The Independent Planning Unit at RTE didn’t exist at the time, and the next series we did, A River Of Sound, was made outside the IPU as a co-production with BBC Northern Ireland and RTE.”

Between these two series, Philip also made the Grammy nominated Daniel Lanois film Rocky World (bankrolled by Warner Brothers in America and Channel 4), and The Juliet Letters with Elvis Costello and The Brodsky Quartet (funded by the BBC and Warner Brothers). However, a documentary celebrating the legendary Christy Moore – a project King thought would be relatively easy to convince RTE to get involved in – was passed over. Indeed, the Christy Moore film was largely funded by the BBC, with RTE subbing into the budget to a lesser degree by acquiring it as a pre-sale, something many would see as being a typically tentative Montrose tactic.

“The Christy Moore case is interesting,” Phillip admits. “Christy, whether you like him or not, is a hero; he’s somebody whose name is known around the world for his Irishness, his championing of minorities; he is, in every sense, a national figure. I would have thought that the national broadcaster would have taken the opportunity to celebrate a national hero in Ireland. But they said no.”

Did they attempt to justify their decision to Hummingbird?

“No, not really,” King replies. “I was dismayed. I thought that at least there should be a level of discussion as to whether or not it would be done. I had assembled a wonderful technical team to realise this piece, including the cinematographer Declan Quinn, who is working with De Niro at the moment, and is probably regarded as one of the hottest cameramen in Hollywood. And I just found it strange, and I suppose ironic in a sense with Christy Moore, that one would end up going to the BBC, to say, ‘Give us the money to make the picture about our national hero.’

“The damning thing for the independent producer is that if the national broadcaster does not support what you do, when you go across the water to America or the BBC, the first question they ask is, ‘Are RTE doing it?’ And you say, ‘No, they’re not.’ And the automatic response to this is, ‘Well, there’s either something wrong with the project or something wrong with you, because surely the national broadcaster would do it if it was any good.’

“But people like the controller and the head of Music and Arts at the BBC say, ‘Let’s have a critical discussion about the content and style of this picture.’ That level of dialogue is central to a creative relationship being forged, where you sit down and pick apart a proposal. I find it very, very disappointing, and upsetting sometimes, to get another letter from RTE that says, ‘We looked at the thing, we really don’t think it’s for us.’ I think that some projects demand a little bit more than that.”

It’s been suggested that RTE are afraid of allowing any independent bodies to become too strong, that they’ve consciously avoided nurturing the competition: granting commissions to companies one year, none the next. King is philosophical about this.

“I think it’s very important that we understand that the independent section in Ireland is young,” he reasons. “RTE is a mature broadcaster at this point, it is changing. Síle de Valera’s recent pronouncement is that she will be capping the amount of money RTE will be spending on Independent film-making at £16 million. Within RTE, there will be a natural resentment that money goes outside the door of the station, to people who are not RTE people, but that’s the legislation, this is the way of the future and we must learn to work together. The independent sector is already at 25% in the UK, but what the BBC and Channel 4 do is it grows the independent sector, in other words, it develops companies. And there is no point in giving one company one project one year, and none for the next four years. It must develop a philosophy of working with the independent sector, to grow it intelligently to provide for the programming needs of the station.

“So I think RTE must make strategic alliances with companies, and almost invest in them so that they develop, otherwise it’s almost impossible to survive out here. And this is not a moan or a gripe in that sense. What it is though, is a plea to the national broadcaster to look to the making of great programmes for ourselves. I’d love to be able to enter into dialogue with the IPU in RTE to be able to bring that kind of alliance about.

“But it’s not just a question of being critical of what RTE does,” King reflects. “RTE is at the moment in the throes of the biggest change in its history, and it’s natural that in an organisation that is changing, there are difficulties. Overt, bitter criticism of RTE isn’t going to do anybody any good. ‘King Slams RTE For Non-Commissions Over Five Years’ – I’m not interested in that. I think what needs to happen is that there needs to be, not so much a détente or a rapprochement, but a place where a trust is built where people are taken seriously for what they do. I would praise them for what they do well, but I would be very frustrated by the likes of the Christy thing.”

Philip King has high hopes that Hummingbird’s prospective alliance with John Boorman’s company Merlin Films (which came about as a result of his and Richie Buckley’s work on the soundtrack of The General) on certain projects might carry a little more weight with the folks at Donnybrook.

“What we want to be able to do is go to RTE with a roster of projects and talk to them about doing these particular things,” he declares, “and maybe us working together will be taken seriously. I would love if it were possible to be able to develop a relationship with RTE where on certain projects they were the first broadcaster to come on board. Hummingbird, with others, have done a project just two days ago with Donal Lunny and the Kodo Drummers from Japan. RTE gave us a facilities package, and it was a very positive and pleasurable relationship to work with them in that way. That is the way of the future.”

King is the picture of diplomacy here, mindful of treading on Montrose toes and souring future relations with the national broadcaster. Yet, it must be said that RTE’s embracing of such culturally bogus phenomena as Lord Of The Dance and Riverdance at the expense of projects based on people like Christy Moore and Liam O’Flynn, is pitiful.

“Riverdance is a huge success, but it has very little to do with pure Irish traditional music,” the director opines. “It is an entertainment. I think it’s interesting that this guy Alex Moffatt wrote a review in the Irish Times of Donal Lunny’s gig with the Kodo Drummers, and he said, ‘This show is obviously going down the Riverdance road’. He got it so wrong! It was so insulting in the sense that Donal Lunny was there in the first place, dealing with Irish rhythms and giving context to Irish music in a modern way, while still remaining absolutely true to the well of tradition from which this music comes. I wonder who this guy (Moffatt) is!

“The film with Liam O’Flynn was funded equally by TnaG and RTE,” King continues, “but the bulk of the budget came from Liam’s record company. Again, Liam O’Flynn is a very, very important figure in this country. He has brought this music all over the world, he carries this sound with him. In that sense he is a living tradition, it’s passed on from Seamus Ennis, Junior Crehan and Willie Clancy and his parents. It’s so important that you make films with these people. And a lot of the television stations were saying. ‘Look, who is this guy? We could make something about Boyzone, we’ve got a guaranteed audience share.’

“But the funny thing about this film is that it got a very good audience on TNaG and RTE, and people rang here, there and everywhere and said that they could recognise themselves, or elements of their Irishness, in this man. This was not a didactic documentary - it was an entertainment with a through-line narrative, the story of a man and his relationship to the pipes. And people recognised it. They said, ‘Ah yeah, that’s us.’”

When I play Devil’s advocate, the director rejects my suggestion that programmes like Sult risk reducing Irish indigenous music to a cartoon populated by a predictable clique of players: Paul Brady, Altan, Donal Lunny, Liam Ó Maonlaí et al.

“I think there’s an element of truth in what you say,” he concedes, “but I don’t believe the cartoon business. We set up the Sult thing with a house band for Donal to invite who he wanted to play with him. We also had Elvis Costello, Eddi Reader and Van Morrison as well as having Paul Brady or Altan or whatever. It was to show that there was more of a breadth and scope to people who were touched by Irish musicians who were not Irish themselves.”

Fair enough, but even though artists like Elvis and Van are well respected, their links with the trad form are already firmly-established. Would Philip accept that programmes like Sult could push the envelope a bit more by, for example, having trad players mix it with avant garde rock or jazz musicians?.

“Well I suppose there are all sorts of musical relationships that can be forged,” he considers. “Some of those things work, some don’t, some are trial and error. TS Eliot used to say: ‘Heterogeneous images yoked by violence together’. Sometimes the kinetic energy will work, it’ll spark up, but sometimes it won’t. I got a huge kick out of the Sult thing, I really did. I met Van Morrison and asked him to do it, and he said, ‘What’s the angle there?’ I said, ‘There’s no angle.’ He said, ‘There has to be a fuckin’ angle!’ And I said, ‘Look, we’re doing it in Ireland with the best production values in the world and it’s in Irish.’ So he said, ‘That’s a great angle!’”

Whatever about the triumphs and disappointments of the last decade, Hummingbird are certainly prospering at the moment. The company recently produced their first feature film with Filmline International, This Is My Father, (starring Aidan Quinn, written and shot by his brothers Paul and Declan, and featuring James Caan, John Cusack, Stephen Rea and Brendan Gleeson amongst the cast). King will shortly begin work on a film about Elvis Costello’s recent collaboration with Burt Bacharach, and then there’s Freedom’s Highway, a 90-minute film about the great political songs of the 20th century (“a celebration of people being able to sing their way out of trouble if you like.”)

“When I talk about political songs in the sense of Freedom’s Highway, it means what it says. The line “As I walked down freedom’s highway” is from ‘This Land Is Your Land’, the Woody Guthrie song. It is a focus on great songs certainly, but it’s also about how something happens when people sing together, and how you can set yourself free doing that, it’s like working on the chain gang, it’s like ‘Old Man River’ or ‘If I Had A Hammer’. I filmed Aaron Neville singing ‘Amazing Grace’ about four or five years ago on a hot sweltering afternoon in New Orleans when we were making the Daniel Lanois film – he has a party in that house every year when the jazz festival is on. And when I heard Aaron Neville sing that day, well, something happened. It’s all about those sort of big songs that everybody knows, that sometimes are clichés now, songs of the Spanish Civil War, or Nina Simone singing ‘River Stay Away From My Door’.

Also pending are a film on Tom Moore, and a series on Irish music in England, inspired in part by the 1997 From The Heart festival at the Barbican Centre in London. It’s a mark of King and company’s productivity that Green On Black, a film examining the relationship between Jamaican and Irish music, will not be made for another 18 months at least.

“To be able to go and tell those stories is what the lifeblood of this company is all about,” he concludes. “Even though I give out about certain things, we’ve led a charmed existence and I’ve been really privileged to go from dreaming about music as a small boy, to sitting in rooms with people like Jack Clement and the Everly Brothers, to making films with Emmylou Harris, to watching Daniel Lanois at work. But most particular, to be around the heart of the matter in our own music, to sit with Martin Hayes and his father in their kitchen, or to be in Donegal with Dermot Byrne and Con Cassidy before he died and to see a truly organic, living, mutating thing, almost like a language, the ongoing pulse of the country that is the music. To be able to be that near that was just a privilege.”