What led you into film? It was theater. From a very young age, I was fascinated by theater. I used to put on plays at school that I would write and direct. When I went to the University of Toronto, there was a film club and I stared playing with the camera. I realized as soon as I started taking images that it was really exciting to me, that the camera was a very powerful instrument that could transmit the notion of a personality outside of the physical or literal characters that were in front of the lens; that there was a spirit that the camera itself possessed. That, to me, was a powerful concept. It enabled me to find my voice much more than theater did. Your voice in films is very deep and true-to-life in both Armenian and Canadian cultures. What do you look for in a story? I look for a story that hasn’t been told. I look for something that is not immediately apparent, but which haunts the lives of the characters and the environments that I’m portraying. That there’s a story other than the one that is immediately apparent is an essential element for me. I like the notion of denial. It’s a very powerful concept for me because it not only reflects on the idea of self-delusion, which is interesting, but also the mechanics in which characters can delude themselves into believing something other than what is there. It’s also a way of exploring notions of how we construct realities in a more political context. This is where my relationship with Mychael [Danna] has been fundamental because, very often in films, the emotional life is somehow withheld. You’re not quite sure what it is that roots the characters. The music often connects us to something in the subconscious before we understand the literal level of what’s going on. It’s a very careful balance that Mychael and I try to orchestrate. What filmmakers or films themselves have influenced you? I would say that I was very influenced by Ingmar Bergman and Robert Bresson. I was also very influenced by many American films of the seventies – films like Francis Ford Coppola’s “The Conversation” and Martin Scorsese’s “Taxi Driver” – but more by European tradition. There are a number of individual features, films like Pasolini’s “Teorema” and Bergman’s “Persona”. Above all, perhaps, is a film like Alfred Hitchcock’s “Vertigo”, which I consider to be one of the best films ever made. “Vertigo” is just so stunning, and it’s an exciting film for me to watch and revisit. The more I work in opera, the more I think of the synthesis of image and music in that production. In your youth, were you aware of music in films? In my early teens, the one film that left a very strong impression on me was “Jesus Christ Superstar”. The musical changed my life when I heard it at the age of ten. I’d been raised with Bible stories, but they didn’t really resonate. Suddenly, this rock opera came long that I thought made a lot of sense. I became so excited that I listened to it endlessly. It was a defining moment for me because, through this film, I realized how cinema, and camera movement especially, could really accentuate and give definition to certain musical concepts. It starts with me as a great example of music and film married together, though obviously in a pop way. I loved the music of the Bergman films, the really atonal scores that were used to convey notions of alienation and unease in films like “Persona”. So how did your relationship with Mychael Danna evolve? I was aware of his work because Mychael has had a curious trajectory. He started as a composer of New Music and then, in the mid-eighties, composed more environmental, ambient scores with his brother. I was also very influenced by Brian Eno’s music, such as ‘Music for Airports’, and these ambient scores that he released for film collaborations, as he did with Harold Budd, for example. When I heard Mychael’s music, it struck a chord. There was an affinity in some of the tonalities and ideas he was expressing emotionally. We met and collaborated for “Family Viewing”, which is still one of my favorite films. The music is able to show the emotional interior long before the film gives it away. I realized that the film was not working until I actually put the music on it. It was really a revelation. And working with Mychael has been an incredible journey. Looking at a project, do you often have a view of how you want the music, or do you leave this to Mychael’s creativity? Going back to “Family Viewing”, I remember the very early session during which we played each other some of our favorite music. I have always been interested in music that skirts on the edges of tonality, and so I think a lot of the early music sort of does that. It was just really great to use that type of instrumentation on a film like “The Sweet Hereafter”. “Exotica” is one of the few films where we actually developed the theme before we show, because it is played out in the scenes. For instance, when Sarah Polley’s character is getting ready to babysit, she plays it on the flute and then plays it on the piano. It was very important that we establish those things beforehand and, of course, that’s a very rare situation. But it’s also great to be able to have a theme in mind as you’re shooting. It’s a close relationship. It’s unusual perhaps. It’s not one of those situations where I wait: Music is something that I am thinking of all the time as I’m putting the piece together. Have you used other composers? No. I certainly work with other composers in opera. I’ve worked with Gavin Bryars. I did a collaboration with Philip Glass on a film. It was a ten-minute film for his series “Philip on Film”. I’ve worked with Steve Reich’s music as well. But these are all sort of more experimental projects or opera projects. In terms of my narrative work or my feature work, I’ve always worked with Mychael’s music or source music. What has sustained your relationship with Mychael? Our relationship sustains itself on a mutual sense of intimacy that we feel toward each other’s artistic process and sensibility. We also are very honest with each other and very demanding with each other as well. The thing Mychael hates most is when I use his scores as temp music for my films. He wants to reinvent himself, and that’s great. We challenge each other, and we are very close to each other emotionally as well. The music for “Ararat” is just beautifully written. Talk about this movie and what it means for you and how much of a role this music plays in this film. The music here is so emotionally invested because some of the themes are like themes that my grandmother, a survivor of the Armenian genocide, would sing to my father. There were themes that I needed to have in that film. The opening theme of the film is a very important pieces in terms for the Armenian national identity, and I wanted it to be the theme throughout. Mychael resisted this because there are easier themes to work with in terms of his development, but he finally got used to it and created something quite magnificent from what is not an easy theme for variations. There are four main themes running through this film. It was the first time that Mychael and I were able to work with a huge orchestra. That was a very fun part of the film to score. What I find most fascinating is that “Ararat” was largely recorded in Armenia. Mychael has an incredible desire for authenticity, which is sometimes supremely impractical, yet which he’ll fight for and defend it. In the case of “Exotica”, there was a shanai sound, and he wanted the real thing. He had to get on a plane, go to India, go to the village, and then record it weeks before the final mix. In the case of “Ararat”, there were musicians whom we could have used in Los Angeles, but it was very important to Mychael that he go to Armenia and find musicians there and record it there, and especially record the choirs in a church. He felt that all of those elements would find their way into the score on a subconscious level. I feel that with the camera lens as well. There’s an ability to capture energy that is not literally dependent on what the person who’s photographing that image may feel. I think that Mychael feels that way about where and how instruments are recorded. It’s not enough to just use the sound, but you have to invest yourself physically within the production of that sound. You actually recorded with him? Yes, I wouldn’t have missed the experience for the world, but Iw as also there to help with the translation. This goes back to your roots, making this an extra-special event. Absolutely. That’s about as close as you can get. What was this experience like? It was overwhelming. It was great to share it with Mychael, because we’re also friends. It was just great to take him on that journey and for him to see that country, which is so meaningful to me. While there, we both knew that it was what we had been working toward for almost twenty years.