In the morning, as was customary, we had a meeting with Mr. Paek, Mr. Sok and our guides at the Korea Film Export and Import offices- conversations about nothing in particular over cups of instant coffee. Today started out no differently, until Mr. Sok suddenly shifted gear: “Mr. Nicolas, I saw you filming around the hotel on the day of your arrival. What did you film there?” Mr. Sok elaborated. “There was nothing going on. You even filmed the backyard. Why did you do that?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Nicolas responded.
“It is not the best hotel in Pyongyang and the backyard is not very beautiful,” probed Mr. Sok, asking the question again: “So, why did you film it?”
“Yeah, the backyard is not great but it’s not awful either. Just a backyard- nothing special.”
“Why did you film it then?”
“Just to create some atmosphere on my tape. So that when I return home I can see what it was like being here.”
“You sure that is the only reason? You also went out a lot on your own- taking a lot of cameras with you. What were you doing then?”
“Just walking around, taking pictures.”
“Pictures? What for?”
“For myself.”
“You know, our country has many enemies. Some of them pose as our friends. They take pictures of the bad parts of our country and sell them to magazines in South Korea. And you take pictures of bad things like the backyard of the hotel.”
“No, no, no, no. I just take pictures of daily life. Good or bad, I don’t care. I want to get shots of how people live.”
“What for?”
“For me.”
“I don’t believe you,” concluded Mr. Sok, “May I see your photos and videos?”
“Sure you may. But you told me I could move around freely in your country. So what’s the problem?”
Mr. Paek, who had been smiling quietly on the sofa like a Buddha, interjected: “You may move around freely. But we have to watch what you are doing. To prevent you from making a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
No answer followed. The topic was over for now…although Mr. Paek’s fresh line of conversation seemed suspiciously cognizant.
“Mr. Nicolas, you were the head of the Swiss delegation at the last April Culture Festival and your delegation won the gold medal…”
“Yeah,” interrupted Nicolas, “and I was on TV a lot, too, so why don’t you trust me this time?”
Mr. Paek ignored the question. “We want you to put together another delegation for next year’s April Culture Festival. We need a solo flautist who has won at least one gold medal in an international competition in the filed of classical music. We want…”
Mr. Paek reeled off a list of musical demands, some by expertise and class, and others by name. When he had finished, he asked, “You think you can get us those people?”
“Um, I’ll try,” answered Nicolas somewhat feebly. “Give me your list.”
Now it was me they turned to.
“Can you recommend any international film magazines that could be helpful for us?”
“Sure. Get a hold of Variety, Sight and Sound, and Film Comment. They’re required reading.”
“How can you help us with these” I was asked.
“Well, I can get you the subscription address.”
“But these publications are very expensive for us.”
“Uh, well, I can send you my copies after reading them…”
This offer met with satisfaction, although Mr. Paek added that I needn’t bother sending Variety as they already subscribed to it. This was odd. Miss Choe worked full time in the offices of the film export company and spoke fluent English, but yet knew nothing of Variety. Mr. Paek, however, who couldn’t read a word of English, got the paper delivered to his desk. I realized these magazines were not meant to be read- they were simply to indicate hierarchic status; to show who was entrusted enough to inspect a Western publication and who wasn’t…
We went to the movies.
Every visitor to North Korea must invite his or her hosts to one official meal. At lunchtime today, it was my turn. Miss Choe had arranged everything in advance: we went to the barbecue place near Kim Il Sung Square where we had been on our first night. The tables had typical Korean barbecue grills built into them- something I loved since my first encounter with Korean cuisine a few years earlier in New York. Alas, the ones here didn’t work. We sat down and Mr. Soke began to order. Mr. Sok might have been the one handling the unpleasant stuff at the company, but at least he knew how to enjoy life. (Maybe all his schemes were geared towards him becoming the ambassador to France one day?)
The food was excellent and here I had my first encounter with Pyongyang-style cold buckwheat noodles. Great stuff!
Through the windows, on Kim Il Sung Square, I could see several thousand school children practising some kind of mass gymnastics display. I was informed that it was a rehearsal for celebrations taking place the following day, September 9, “the anniversary of the foundation of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea by our Great Leader Kim Il-sung.”
In the midst of small talk about the food, Mr. Sok turned to Nicolas and praised him for being such a talented cameraman. “Mr. Nicolas,” he said. “I would like to see some of your work.”
“You saw some of my films at last year’s festival,” responded Nicolas.
“I think you have certainly improved your style since then,” Mr. Sok pressed on.
“I can send you some more recent videos when I get home.”
“No, I want to see some of your works tonight. I feel a great urge to catch up on your artistic development.”
“But I don’t have any of my films here…”
“In that case, I would just watch the material you have shot so far while here.”
“But that’s not edited yet…”
“I have to evaluate the artistry of films all the time. I can tell if you are as talented as you seem to be.”
“But that’s just raw footage, nothing else. A lot will get thrown away.”
“Well, it’s all on Hi8 and you don’t have facilities to play Hi8.”
“I will watch it on the camera viewfinder then, if you don’t mind.”
“But it’s not art, just tourist footage…”
I jumped in: “Ah, right, tourist footage. I’m sure I’m in it.”
Nicolas threw me a perplexed look.
“I’m sure I’m in it,” I repeated. “We went around a lot together, didn’t we? I want to see the footage, too. Do you invite me to the little screening tonight?”
Nicolas glanced over gratefully. “You don’t mind do you, Mr. Sok?”
“Uh-huh…” was Mr. Sok’s muffled reply.
Time now to see a few more big screen Juche heroes defending the fatherland.
