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A home movie from 1963, valuable for its montage and auteur signature. What do we see?This is a story about arriving at a beloved and familiar place. At a bus stop, a grandmother and granddaughter are in a hurry. An introduction to the yard of a house, a bridge to memories of the past, the girl jumps, the operator plays with the light, shows details of a staircase, windows, closeups of flowers and a child’s face.
In the amateur films donated to Kinoclub Super 8, Stanka Pencheva shows her limitless love of nature, architecture and people, merging them into a single object for observation. Fearlessly filmed human soles, flowers, closeups of bees, hands during harvest, details of buildings, all shot without differentiation.
Stanka Pencheva often pointed her camera to bridges and flowing water. The bridge as a transition to a future memory, the flowing water that washes the past away. Her frames seek joviality, as represented by the presence of children. She filmed everyday activities, holidays, vacations, trips, even those back to her own house.
Something Like a Recollection of Bulgarian Amateur Film 1962-1966
I was born in Sofia in 1952. In 1962, my mother Stanka Pencheva bought an 8 mm film camera from Czechoslovakia. We lost the camera years ago, but Kevrk Vanlyan reminded me it was an Admira. I found it online right away - an Admira Meopta 8F - and recognized it immediately! It had a super cute brown case made from real leather, with a long strap for the shoulder. It was upholstered with something soft and green, so I really liked it. For that reason, I can be seen on a lot of the footage prancing around and proudly showing the case off as my mother films. I would like to describe what I remember from those times, because I suppose that not many witnesses and participants are still around. In addition to being an avid spectator and actress, I was also a serious assistant operator. When you see my mother in the frame, it’s usually because I was filming.
This means that there was some interest in Bulgaria, but it couldn’t have been widespread. Even wordsmiths weren’t too tempted.
As I remember, the film was actually 16 mm, but the frames were recorded only on half of it. After the film rolled all the way, the reel flipped in order to film on the unused half. I’m not sure I explained it well, but the terminology isn’t my strong point.
As far as the projecting sessions, I remember the characteristic hum of the projector and that it worked with a belt string that sometimes broke precisely when we had guests over. Horrible! At the most important moment, it would snap and fly out into the room. Either that, or the film became unglued while the reel kept spinning and piled a mountain of it on the ground, where it got hopelessly tangled. We didn’t have a screen, so we projected straight on the wall, but it was still awesome.
The idea behind the films was for us to have a memory and also have some information about the places we visited. Especially if we traveled abroad. But summers on the Black sea coast were also exceptional, because we Bulgarians are not seafarers and such experiences were unforgettable. Besides, there were no small or big events, we filmed everything! Even the most mundane of daily actions seemed different through the lens. But the most important thing was the novelty of it - we didn’t have to assume worn out frozen poses, it was actually mandatory to move around and do something. It obviously doesn’t seem like a novelty now, but back then it was very impressive to be a moving object. And most of all, the “object” learned new things about itself when it watched later.
Or maybe circumstances prevented her from shooting. But I’ll never forget the impatience with which I waited for her to bring the new reel so we could watch it. I always liked myself tremendously. Now I discover that I was really funny - posing and putting on airs, imagining I’m a movie star. Oh well, just things kids do!
I see another thing mother overlooked: she had us talking and explaining things to the camera, which is just wasted film because it didn’t record sound. All the antics, grimacing and monkeying around, however, do come across fine.
The characters were played by family members and we prepared for our roles, more or less. Our grandmothers donned their new dresses, even though they pretended to be taken aback at first. Grandfather fussed around the yard dressed in father’s old formal suit.
As far as the characters that took part by chance, their attitude toward the filming process was positive, if somewhat suspicious. In those days no one asked for permission to film people. So in most cases, when someone noticed an individual with an apparatus in their hands standing across, they promptly posed for a picture, stared forward and didn’t move. As an assistant, I went over and explained this wasn’t a photocamera, and they may move around “naturally” and just generally continue going about their business. This is where the suspicion started. So if it isn’t a picture, what is it? But they all displayed genuine interest and curiosity, even seemed to feel a tad proud.
Regarding the actual process of filming, there was no battery and the camera had to be cranked by hand. There was some sort of spring mechanism inside that made the camera roll for a while, but never long enough to shoot the entire “episode”. This meant we had to stop filming, crank again and then continue. Unfortunately, this led to missing out on unrepeatable moments. I want to share more details about the time my mother managed to film a unique activity - harvesting grain with a threshing board. This is a sort of sled pulled by animals that separates barley or wheat from the straw.
Since I’m already talking about long-forgotten things, let me mention spinning wool with the bygone distaff and spindle. In the beginning of the film about our visit to the Obnova village, where my father Kliment Tsachev was born, three women are sitting by the road waiting to see who will arrive with the Pleven bus so they can gossip. One of them is spinning wool. Spinning produces a loose ball of yarn, and the spinner becomes a knitter. If grandma is visiting the kids in Sofia, she would sit in front of their building and knit clothes for the family. (That process was also captured in front of our apartment building by my mother in another film.) Needless to say, industrial wool was available by then, but homemade was traditional and cheaper. But we’re still far away from the times when prominent designers would fall in love with hand-knitted garments and put them on even bigger celebrities.
Another forgotten, or rather unknown element is the cute little donkey. Sometimes represented as a fool,some others as wise, it was the most faithful and obedient helper of the rancher, and it wasn't idle in town either. To be precise, it was the most reliable mode of transportation for people and cargo of all kinds. They appear in films my mother shot in the village of Obnova near Zheravna, in Sozopol, in Koprivtshtitsa, all over Bulgaria. Let’s not forget they were an obligatory detail in Greek, Turkish or Albanian landscapes, and were very important and prized Balkan residents.
Speaking of transportation, the few cars were a curiosity and a source of pride for their owners and envy for anyone else. We have a film of a Sunday outing to Borovets with the brand new Moskvich owned by family friends. (The Fiat clones and soviet favorites Lada Zhiguli did not exist yet.) Because of the car, the trip becomes a special occasion! When I watched the film, I realized that the car owner’s wife isn’t wearing hiking clothes, but a formal dress and heels. This emphasizes the importance and significance of the event, they were documenting their first ride with the new car for future generations!
One memory leads to another and I’ll again return to our family’s attitude toward my mother’s hobby. Both my grandmothers and grandpa dressed up in their new clothes. It was the same for me. In order to be filmed on the swing in front of our building, I wore my pleated skirt bought especially for school, they brushed my hair the way they did for school, together with the mandatory starched hair bow. A little detour - in the film from Sliven featuring my mother’s mother Maria, the neighbor’s girl changed into her full school uniform with red scarf, and of course two hair bows. That was our understanding of fashion and elegance. Or rather, it was our mothers that didn’t think we needed different clothes for special occasions or holidays. A girl with hair bows looked dressed up, and besides, hair bow sounded so much fancier than some paltry ribbon! And back to the family - like every self-respecting husband, father was a tad condescending when it came to mother’s hobby, and participated as an operator and performer without much enthusiasm and just to keep the peace. He was a good operator, but an irresponsible actor, because in each scene he giggled until he made my mother laugh. They both laugh so hard in the etude Family argument on the beach, that they ruin the whole premise.
I wrote all these things so the young viewers of our films and those of Super 8’s collection can see how much fun we had with camera in hand, but also how serious we were about our filmmaking endeavours. Totally amateur “cinema”, which also tells the story of our lives candidly and lovingly, together with very naive attempts at something more structured. The National film archive preserves official newsreels from that era. They were shown in cinemas before the main attraction and featured molten steel, plowing tractors, different ceremonies and congresses, some sports, etc. Yes, this is interesting information that’s relevant to the story, but our personal experiences are needed as well. Only then the picture of those times can be complete. Naturally, the memories of grandparents, parents, and the pictures that each family carefully keeps also add to it.
I also share these stories because the daughter of one of the stars of our films asked me with great surprise: ‘How interesting that you were able to use filming equipment in the time of the dinosaurs!’. Well, it has been 60 years, but dinosaurs? And even if it was the time of the dinosaurs, it’s still dear to me because it was the time of carefree childhood, fun and games. And the most important thing - the unforgettable and full of childish excitement brush with the magic of cinema. When I was describing all these events I realized that I’m feeling a nostalgic endearment and that made me decide to write with a bit of a wink, somewhat funny and jovial, a little self deprecating, but still serious on occasion. I wrote with a smile, so let it be read with a smile!
I consciously omitted writing anything about the poet Stanka Pencheva, the author of wonderful poems very dear to several generations of readers. Her path is as well known as her books.
I also admit that we bear a great deal of guilt, since for thirty-something years we kept the family film archives in the most inappropriate of conditions - in my old school bag and lots of humidity. That’s why I thank the wonderful people from KinoClub Super 8 with all my heart for finding the time, regardless of how busy they were, to take an interest and shelter the reels. KinoClub is not just carrying out an amazing initiative, it’s on a Mission! The club members don’t brag or draw attention to themselves, but they’re performing a huge task. They collect, restore, digitize, store and popularize a large archive, and enter into the roles of film detectives, since a lot of films come without any additional information. And the most important thing: they save and give new life to forgotten and unknown old reels! Reels that record our lives, which for each of us are unique, singular and unforgettable. Yet they are also part of our collective memory and history. And that’s wonderful!
April 2023 Radina Tzacheva