18/02/2025 - BERLINALE 2025: The Belarusian director told us about the musical, personal and artistic inspirations behind his feature debut

(© Dario Caruso/Cineuropa)

Yuri Semashko’s debut feature, The Swan Song of Fedor Ozerov [+see also:
film review
interview: Yuri Semashko
film profile], had its world premiere in the Forum section at this year’s Berlinale. Cineuropa interviewed him about his creative process and the political implications of the film.

Cineuropa: Your film is a mix of a lot of elements – political threats based on reality, the aspirations of a young artist, magical elements and Greek myth. What came first? How did the rest follow?
Yuri Semashko: The idea that sparked the film was: “Why am I so obsessed with making films while the world is falling apart?” We hear and see a lot of bad news every day. I was struggling with ideas, and one day I asked myself whether I should make a film about it. I didn’t like the idea of making a film about a filmmaker experiencing this struggle, so I used a musician instead. The key point of The Swan Song of Fedor Ozerov is: “If the end of the world were approaching tomorrow, would I still continue to make art?”

What were the musical inspirations for Fedor? Which singers did you have in mind for the creation of the character? During the film he quotes Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan and he kind of looks like Mick Jagger.
I really like "old" music. I’m not a big fan of modern music. I enjoy rock ’n’ roll and punk from the past. I was looking for the type of musician who, like Dylan and Cohen, is just a man with a guitar and his music. It’s hard to find artists like this nowadays because most songwriters use a lot of instruments. My lead actor, Viachaslau Kmit, looks like he’s from another era, making him perfect for what I was looking for.

Speaking of this, how did you work with the composer Sinie Gory?
We worked remotely. I described in words what I wanted, and he sent me versions of his vision in return. We refined them extensively, narrowing five or six different options down to the final version. I don’t like it when the soundtrack is too prominent, so I selected only a few moments where music was truly necessary.

You have worked on the screenplay, and also took care of directing, editing and production design on this film. What were the main challenges of handling so many things? 
I always think that the hardest part is writing—you start with nothing, and you never know what you will discover during the journey. You may reach the end only to realise that the film doesn’t work. It’s very frustrating, and on top of that, you don’t even have a film. But when I have a script I believe in, nothing can stop me. I will do anything to bring it to life and shoot it. For me, everything that comes after writing is easier because working on the script requires motivation and is psychologically demanding. Writing a film is like being a gold miner. You work hard everyday, but when you finally find the gem you’ve been searching for so long, it feels like enlightenment. It’s the best feeling you could ever have. In the end, though, I can’t really separate all my roles; to me, they are all part of the same thing. On set, the work is difficult in a different way because you focus on it all day and get very little sleep. But I truly enjoy the creative process, the practicality of shooting.

How did the idea of the daisy sweater as a source of inspiration come out? Is it something somehow linked to your creative process? Do you use any lucky charms while working?
No, I don’t believe in symbols; I’m not superstitious. I know musicians are more likely to have them because they rely more on inspiration. I see them as more superstitious, which is why I incorporated the magical event with Fedor. I also wanted a real object to represent it physically, I couldn’t just depict the search for inspiration without something tangible. As for the sweater, I don’t really know why I chose it. Maybe it was inspired from above. But even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell anyone because, like a magician, if I revealed my tricks, they would lose all their power.

Your actors are all acting with a mix of irony and sadness. How did you find them and how do you work with them, starting with the protagonist Viachaslau Kmit?
Viachaslau is a young singer in the Belarusian underground scene and is currently working in Warsaw, where I also live. We knew each other through mutual friends. I first met him at a concert and later at parties, but we weren’t friends. While considering my lead actor, I thought of him because he had the old-school style I mentioned earlier. I asked if he wanted to be in the film, and he accepted. Later, I posted Instagram stories looking for supporting characters, and people started applying. I found an actor from the company Tutejszy Teatr and soon, word spread. Almost all the young actors came from there. The older actors also come from the Belarusian theatre, though they, too, are now in Poland. I feel lucky that I was able to match them so easily with their roles.

Considering the help of the Belarusian Filmmakers’ Network, would you consider this film “political”, and if yes, in what way?
I don’t like bringing politics into my films; I don’t want to think about it while making them, but I can’t avoid it. When I needed to depict the end of the world, I chose the most likely scenario. Of course, a nuclear war inspired by the Cold War—West versus East, the U.S. against Russia—was a fairly basic solution. I needed it for the story, and if it serves the story, I don’t mind including politics. But I didn’t intend to communicate any specific message with it.