On The Up: Kiwi actor and producer Peter Winkelmann's low-budget film projects are challenging the titans of cinema
He's zooming in from his LA apartment, a place he didn't expect to be real when he moved there during the Covid pandemic.
'On that Uber ride over, I was sort of like, I hope this place I took a lease on exists. I didn't know anyone on the continent or any friends in America at all, let alone LA.'
The Viridian Jewel was filmed in the Hollywood hills on a shoestring budget.
Having now lived in the US for five years, Winkelmann knows a fair bit about how the brutal commercial studio system works. In a world full of failures, he's found success through the unlikely avenue of low-budget film-making and takes pride in challenging the status quo.
'One of the films I produced for $400 has been included in the official selection for LA Shorts, next to short films with budgets in excess of $100,000,' he says.
'It's a serious festival too: it's Oscar-qualifying and has previously hosted the work of people such as Gary Oldman, Scarlett Johansson, Bill Murray and Sofia Coppola. A similar no-budget film I acted in won Best Picture at the San Pedro International Film Festival.'
Winkelmann is a long way from his hometown of Taupō. His love of acting took him to the University of Auckland, then through two of the prestigious Stella Adler Studio and Academy of Acting outlets in the US, which boast alumni such as Marlon Brando and Robert De Niro.
'There's a really awesome film industry in New Zealand, but for me, I'm someone who believes if you want to try master something, you go to the source.'
It hasn't all been smooth sailing, particularly in his first few months trying to figure out the lay of the land.
'Naturally, everything was shut, so those first few months were extremely isolating. I also got Covid within those first few months, which was quite scary because there was so much uncertainty about it,' Winkelmann recalls.
But a chance foray into low-budget filmmaking during strict pandemic conditions made Winkelmann realise the future looked bright for independent film-makers.
'The nature of the opportunities were pretty bizarre. It didn't look like what we perceived the film industry to be, because the situation had shifted so radically,' he says.
His film Trolled, with a crew of about five and a budget of less than $20,000, won a bunch of awards and got distribution in the US.
'We constructed this spooky horror film where we were doing it like a live stream, meant to look like it was all filmed on different GoPros positioned around the room.
'There was a bunch of us tied to chairs being attacked by this scary guy, and we filmed it all in this experimental one-take where we were all improvising.'
Peter Winkelmann's low-budget films have found success up against revered film-makers.
Winkelmann credits the ad-hoc format to putting him out of his comfort zone, something that he believes helps creatives thrive and form a sense of community.
'The film industry was going through this massive radical shift from all of the pressure coming from all these external factors.
'I think putting myself in a position where there was external pressure motivated me to go the extra step and sort of lit a fire on my bum to really put myself out there.'
It's also helped fuel a new fire for low-budget film-makers who want to buck the trend.
'Over the last five years, the whole industry has really started to shift. I think it started with Covid, but then we went from Covid straight into the strikes, AI being a big factor in those strikes,' Winkelmann says.
'This changed people's consumption habits. Movie theatres still haven't returned to the same, and there has been a massive contraction around streaming. But the streaming bubble has kind of popped. There's essentially been this arms race between all of these different streaming studios, and with all these different strategies, a big company ends up like swallowing all the other ones.'
Curious about the trends, he did some research and theorised that there may be a link between the consumption of social media and the success of low-budget film-making.
'You can see it in the younger demographics already. I saw a stat that was like less than 20% of people under 20 even watch streaming channels anymore in America. It's all like social media content, TikTok and Instagram and so on.
'This probably gets into my opinion here, but I think the reason for this is because people relate to authenticity. Connecting to an individual and the abundance of hyper niche content that's specifically targeted at your interest, as opposed to these big mass appeal, outdated media styles, right? With smaller budget films, there's an opportunity for a new model of film-making to come around where there's like a more niche audience and more targeted films.'
But success isn't the only thing Winkelmann and his team gain from their low-budget endeavours - there's also the personal gain.
'The most important thing in film-making is spirit, and we've got that in buckets in the independent scene.' he says.
'I think that there needs to be a push for community building around cinemas. I think every area of life at the moment, we need to push towards community.'
Peter Wineklmann moved to Los Angeles during the height of the Covid pandemic.
For Kiwis looking to enter the weird and wonderful world of independent film-making, Winkelmann says NZ's number eight wire mentality will bode well.
'Do it. Do it yourself and figure it out yourself. Give yourself like grace and explore because filmmaking is a trade. It's a skill, and it's something you just have to do, and every single time you do it you'll get better and better and better,' he says.
'There's no point trying to write the perfect project or set out to make the next Scorsese film on your first go. Ask questions, be curious, explore and just have fun making stuff.'
Mitchell Hageman joined the Herald's entertainment and lifestyle team in 2024. He previously worked as a multimedia journalist for Hawke's Bay Today.
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The Spinoff
17 hours ago
- The Spinoff
Three ways of eating, bound together in one perfect room
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That cafe that spreads actual butter thickly right up to the edges of fresh bread, a pot of pickles next to everything, because of course you want pickles. A whole ham on the bone cooked up at the start of the week for sandwiches and salads. Sometimes, we get all three in one. We get Amuse Snack Bar at the top of Willis Street. Opened by Dori Raphael in March, Amuse is the culmination of a life of hospitality experience and the realisation of a dream she has held for years. Born in London, she moved to Aotearoa at the age of 15 and dedicated most of her life to music. Travelling the world and ending up back in London studying for her masters in music, the one constant was service. She worked the floor at the famous Strawberry Fare in Wellington, then went on to work at the historic Poilâne bakery in London and found a home among the all-female staff at 26 Grains in Neal's Yard, where she was head barista for two years. 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It is golden and blistered with two small burnt ends to nibble away at. The butter has been whipped up until it is light and frothy and spiked liberally with sea salt. Next, Raphael braises ham hocks before shredding the meat away, leaving something fatty and salty and intensely decadent. A final peppering of sharp cornichons finishes the whole thing off. This is a truly world-class version of an iconic sandwich. This is no fluke; all of the sandwiches are beyond anything this city has seen before. Egg mayonnaise is laced with tarragon and chives and served on a plump brioche roll with a fistful of greens. Salmon is cured in beetroot before it is cut generously and served on seeded bread with cream cheese and greens. There is the Snack Plate. Yes, I am putting it in capital letters, for it is singular and profound and deserves to be recognised as such. It is the lunch we all dream of; a plate filled elegantly with all manner of picky things. There are wedges of properly crumbly cheese stacked up next to a little bunch of red grapes and a pot of brightly coloured pickles. A fistful of chopped salad full of red cabbage, greens, chewy grains and thinly sliced radish. Tomatoes dressed simply in salt and oil, a thick smudge of salty butter and a chutney that is the spirit of a European Christmas distilled down into something spreadable. All this next to four doorstop slices of their homemade malt and seed sourdough. You can add house-cured salmon, that ham hock or other bits. For me, I can't quite get past the nostalgia of a thinly sliced boiled egg. This all sounds so simple and comforting, which is why the eating is quite so magical – like going to your gran's for lunch, but your gran just so happens to be one of the best chefs in the world. Come four o'clock, the menu changes – the amenable and polite Dr Jekyll changes form and a rambunctious Mr Hyde appears. 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Otago Daily Times
2 days ago
- Otago Daily Times
Film offers look ‘behind the scenes'
This year's International Film Festival gives New Zealanders the rare opportunity to see behind the scenes at a gallery as it curates a ground-breaking exhibition, in this case Auckland Art Gallery's "Toi Tū Toi Ora: Contemporary Māori Art". Rebecca Fox talks to TOITŪ: Visual Sovereignty 's director, Oscar nominated producer, award-winning film-maker and art lover Chelsea Winstanley. More than 100 artists, 300 art works, 10 installations — it sounds huge. For art lover and movie producer Chelsea Wistanley, the concept of Auckland Art Gallery's "Toi Tū Toi Ora: Contemporary Māori Art", to create the largest Māori art exhibition in New Zealand's history, authored by Māori voices, sounded fascinating. "I like to find stories about people that are doing all the good things behind the scenes." Living in Los Angeles at the time the exhibition was being developed by gallery's curator, Māori Art, Nigel Borell (Pirirākau, Ngāi Te Rangi, Ngāti Ranginui, Te Whakatōhea), Wistanley's marriage to Taika Waititi had broken down, Covid had hit America, Black Lives Matter was going on. "LA was kind of crazy. And it was almost like a great catalyst, actually. So I was like, I'm coming home. I'm going to sink my teeth into this." Personally she needed to come back to New Zealand, but it also seemed like the perfect opportunity for her to go back to her love for writing and directing. While she is known for producing — as a producer on Waititi's Academy nominated feature Jojo Rabbit , Wistanley became the first indigenous female Oscar nominee for Best Picture and her critically-acclaimed documentary feature, Merata: How Mum Decolonised the Screen played at the 2019 Sundance and Berlin film festivals — it is not something she ever wanted to do. "I just fell into that role and you just keep doing one thing after another and someone tells you, you're pretty good at it or they keep offering you work in that space." Along the way Wistanley (Ngāti Ranginui and Ngāi Te Rangi, Pākehā) forgot about her youthful self's wish to be a director. She had started out directing a television art show where she met artists such as Fred Graham, Tama Iti and met Waititi for the first time. "I really believe in timing. And it was the perfect time for me to come home, sink myself into something that was really right. You know, on the kaupapa that I love, art." Working alongside Borell and the gallery's team, Wistanley threw herself into the project deciding to self-fund the documentary to avoid any unnecessary restrictions. "So what little resource I had, me and my producer, we were just like, right, we're going to do this. We'll scrimp and scrape. We'll pull favours. And, you know, half the time I'm getting the camera out myself and I'm not a camera operator. But there's just times you're like, oh, my God, I've got to capture that." She had been told the exhibition was going to be the equivalent to the landmark 1980s "Te Māori" exhibition that toured the United States and then New Zealand's main centres, including Dunedin. "It's got this really neat synergy, I suppose, because "Te Māori" really awakened Māori people to what their culture and a traditional culture that they had. And then when it finished its amazing world conclusion, it actually finished at the Auckland Art Gallery. "And that was another thing that I thought, from an international perspective, was really interesting, too. Like it had all these parallels. So I was like, that's going to be fantastic." But things took a different direction as tensions emerged between Borell and the gallery's director about the imbalance of power in curating. Borrell's vision was that Māori artists should be seen on their own terms, free from colonial frameworks and he pushed to centre Māori voices and stories. He eventually decided to resign just before the show opened. "Alliedship, support and advocacy for indigenous and for Māori in this space is awesome but at the same time it often gets mixed up in authoring the ideas and wanting to have space in that and it is not up for grabs, it is ours to lead and to own. If it is not I don't want to be part of that conversation," Borrell says in the film. "If we can't shape it with this exhibition project which we have waited 20 years to do, when can we?" Like any film-maker, Wistanley had to adapt and follow the story although this was not easy at times. "I'm merely just to be there to capture and respond as an artist myself, as a storyteller. Because people talk about a story being made three times, from the paper, then while you're shooting, and then again in the edit suite. When you get to that third part, you've got to now pull all the pieces together. And whatever you thought might have been the actual story is not any more." She did not want that dispute to overshadow the film though. "I think the overall outcome of the film is, what I really want anyway is, there's nothing to be afraid of, of sharing power. Even if power is the right word. It's just living in harmony together and in true partnership. "Everyone in the gallery, Māori, Pākehā, it doesn't matter who they were, everyone was so invested in the success of that show. Because they're all working there because they love art. So they just want the best thing for the show and for the public to experience." So she also concentrated on was showing the work that went on behind the scenes. Wistanley, whose home's walls are covered in art, got to meet and watch work some of the country's top contemporary Māori artists. "I've always loved art and photography. And it's always kind of been my, I suppose, passion. But this time around, being able to spend time with and see the likes of Shane Cotton or Emily Karaka and their spaces of work. That was the great thing I wanted to show." Selecting those to follow on their journey for the documentary was difficult but working closely with Borrell and the team, she selected a variety of artists doing different projects who also had strong stories. "The artists were so generous." Getting to see the work of the Mataaho Collective (Erena Baker, Sarah Hudson, Bridget Reweti and Terri Te Tau) as it was being made in collaboration with Maureen Lander was special, especially as afterwards the collective went on to win the Golden Lion Award at the Vience Biennale, one of art's highest accolades . The documentary follows their journey at Venice. "My gosh, that was just, like, ultimate, you know. But they're amazing. They're just wonderful." These experiences gave her a new appreciation for artists. "Artists are just the most incredible people. They truly are." Being able to watch and film Ngahina Hohia installing her Paopao Ki tua o Rangi (2009) mixed-media installation using poi, light and sound, drawing on her own whakapapa and the story of Parihaka, over a few days was "mind blowing". It is a piece that has been shown around the world. "It's so beautiful. Again as a viewer you go in and you don't know how many days she spent putting it all together." Then she got to be in Australia when Reuben Paterson saw the glass waka he had designed in real life for the first time. Due to Covid he had supervised its construction via the internet. "It was great to capture him there. I would have been freaking out if that was my piece and it's so incredible when you see it going." But it also gave her a new appreciation for what galleries and their staff do to make exhibitions come to life for the public from driving across the country to pick up valuable and fragile works to conserving pieces so they can can continue to be seen for years to come. "I didn't realise how many people even worked at the gallery, or what all their roles were. Everyone from the registration team, were just such lovely people who take such incredible care, meticulous care. There is just so much that goes on behind the scenes." Sad that the show came down in 2021 six months after opening and that it did not go on to travel internationally, Wistanley took time to decide whether or not to finish the documentary. "I really just didn't want to put out a piece that, oh, the show opened. And yet again, it smashed all the records for visitors and things like that. It did all those things. But it didn't do some other really fundamental things, which sat with me for some time." Two years ago she began working on the piece again, trawling through the hundreds of hours of material to piece together the final story. "I think for them, it's a great archive. I just really wanted to kind of celebrate really what goes on. And it probably turned into something slightly different in the end." TO SEE TOITŪ: Visual Sovereignty , Rialto Cinema, Dunedin, August 24, 3.45pm. Q and A by director Chelsea Winstanley.

RNZ News
3 days ago
- RNZ News
Music with Kirsten Zemke: The short-lived Yé-yé phenomenon
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