Stir Q&A: So Surreal: Behind the Masks filmmakers talk about quest to recast art history
Lively, detective-like documentary reveals how Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw and Yup’ik ceremonial masks found their way into the hands of Surrealist masters—and directly influenced their work
Yup’ik artist Chuna McIntyre dances with masks in the halls of the Louvre in So Surreal: Behind the Masks.
'Na̱mgis artist Wayne Alfred’s Ba̱k'wa̱s mask, worn on Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw territory in So Surreal: Behid the Masks. Photo by Van Royko
Vancouver International Film Festival screens So Surreal: Behind the Masks on September 29, 6 pm at SFU Woodwards, and October 1, 12:45 pm at Fifth Avenue Cinemas, with Q&As with the filmmakers at both events
A HUGELY ENGAGING DOCUMENTARY at this year’s Vancouver International Film Festival uncovers a piece of art history you won’t learn in school—and connects one of Europe’s most famous art movements back to the B.C. coast.
So Surreal: Behind the Mask explores how Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw and Yup’ik ceremonial masks found their way into the hands of revered Surrealists like Max Ernst, André Breton, Roberto Matta, and Joan Miró, who surrounded themselves with the pieces in their studios and drew on them directly in their work. Part detective story, part revised art-history lesson, the documentary follows Cree filmmaker Neil Diamond on a lively journey from Alert Bay to New York City to the Louvre on the trail of the masks—and a stunning Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw Raven Transformation Mask in particular.
Along the way, Diamond and co-director Joanne Robertson (the team behind equally engrossing docs like Reel Injun, Red Fever, and Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked the World) interview the people doing meticulous behind-the-scenes work to have the precious pieces returned. And on another deeper level, they reveal the potlatch bans that led to the removal of the masks in the first place.
The film interweaves dreamlike footage of the stunning masks with the sleuthing and research involved in hunting down works to private collections. Reclaiming some of the masks becomes an ever more surreal exercise in itself.
Stir caught up with filmmakers Diamond and Robertson, before their documentary opens at the Vancouver International Film Festival this week, to talk about buried art history, their journeys to the B.C. coast and Paris’s most hallowed museum halls, and their insights on repatriation.
When you embarked on this film, did you realize what a cross-continental detective story it would turn into—and how much did you get pulled into solving the mystery?
NEIL DIAMOND: So Surreal began as a small part of a larger film, Red Fever. Once we learned about how the people of Alert Bay had been on a search for their stolen ceremonial objects for decades, and what they were immersed in really was detective work, it was only fitting to frame the film as a detective film. I really did become obsessed with finding the Raven Transformation Mask. Spoiler: I actually have a friend of a friend who is practically neighbours with the person who is in possession of the mask. So who knows what the future holds...
JOANNE ROBERTSON: I had no idea that this detective story would turn into such a quest. Like Neil, I became obsessed with exploring all the possible roads that might lead us to the missing mask. I spent a lot of time scouring art books and reading old newspaper articles and auction catalogues for any mention of the mask. In the end, the secrecy of the art world led us to many dead ends, and to a lot of anonymous sources who just didn't want to jeopardize their relationships. People were sympathetic but very protective of their contacts. That part was really surprising to me.
Why don’t people know this story and the influence of the masks on Surrealists—and was the depth of that influence a surprise to you too?
ND: I knew very little of the Surrealists when we started. I knew of Dali, Picasso, and Man Ray (because of my photography background) so I was very surprised that Indigenous ceremonial objects inspired and influenced a movement that began a world away. Most people don’t know of the great influence North American cultures have had and still have on the rest of the world (see Red Fever). Indigenous influences can be seen in politics, sports, fashion, food, music, warfare, etc. Sadly, this history was erased by the effects of colonization. So much so that Native people are only starting to learn about these aspects of their histories.
JR: I think we’re rarely told histories outside the mainstream Western narrative, and this story of influence has been buried—hidden in plain sight, apart from certain circles of people who were aware of the story. What surprised me about it all was the depth of the conceptual influence that these masks had on the Surrealists: that it went beyond aesthetics. The Surrealists were looking for another way of being and another way of thinking outside of the society they lived in. They saw glimpses of those things—or what they imagined—through these Yup’ik and Northwest Coast masks. The impact on their worldview was significant. But, of course, they missed a lot of things, including the stories and meaning behind the masks, the people who made them, and how some of the masks were taken in the first place.
One of the most exhilarating moments in the documentary involves your film subject Chuna McIntyre dancing in the halls of the Louvre—literally reclaiming space. Can you describe what it was like to shoot that day?
ND: Definitely one of my favourite shoot days. Just seeing the joy in Chuna’s eyes when he greeted his people’s masks and also getting a private audience with the Mona Lisa. How many people can claim that!
JR: Early on in our conversations with Chuna, he was very clear about wanting to visit the Yup’ik masks in museums and galleries in Paris, so that he could reconnect with the masks and also speak to them in Yup’ik, the language that the masks had heard when they were being carved and danced in ceremony over 100 years ago. He wanted to reconnect with the masks in that way. Seeing Chuna greeting the masks in Yup’ik at the Louvre that day was powerful and really moving. And his affection for the Mona Lisa was also very infectious!
Neil Diamond
Joanne Robertson
One thing that So Surreal really reveals is the complexity of repatriation—including the fact that First Nations can’t afford to buy the most precious pieces back. At one point, a person says it really just comes down to goodwill. What was your experience of that?
ND: Oh, the injustice of demanding that a people buy back their treasures that had been stolen from them. It’s almost surreal! I could go on and on, but... You’ll have to do your own research about what else Indigenous people are forced to pay for. On a brighter note, there is some good will from people like Donald Ellis and Marie Mauzé who have helped places like the U'mista Cultural Centre in Alert Bay track and, in some cases, return the treasures. Perhaps this film will generate more goodwill. How sweet would that be!
JR: It naively seemed so simple at first. Why wouldn't someone return something that wasn’t theirs?! But of course, as Juanita Johnston, director of the U'mista Cultural Centre in Alert Bay, or anyone with experience in repatriation will likely tell you, these things are anything but simple. As Neil says in the film, repatriation is a complex beast! Things might be shifting, albeit generally very slowly, in the museum world around repatriation, but private collections are still really tricky on many levels. Even if an Indigenous nation has the money to buy a treasure back, it doesn't mean that the person who holds the piece will be willing to sell it. And then, in many cases, there are no laws that can force the return of a piece. Hence the goodwill! It’s complicated in many ways.
People speak in the film about the power of these masks, and the fact the Surrealists saw that and wanted to experience that. What was your experience of some of the Yup'ik and Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw ceremonial masks?
ND: I can’t claim to have been affected by the power of these masks the way that I saw our subjects’ reactions to them. Another person we spoke to (he unfortunately ended up on the cutting room floor) told us, when he was home alone late at night, he would have conversations with one mask in particular. Only he and the mask know what the subjects of these late-night chats were. My guess is that it probably was not about the previous night’s Canucks’ loss to the Montreal Canadiens. Zing!
JR: That’s a good question. I think the closest I came to experiencing anything like that was actually at Surrealist Roberto Matta’s home in Paris. But I think it was more that I started to understand how Matta might have felt that power and been influenced by the masks that he collected. In the film, you see how Matta’s home is filled with cultural treasures from around the world. He had a few different pieces in his studio, including the Yup’ik mask you see in the film. As a curator said to me, Matta couldn’t have created the work he did without these pieces around him. Ultimately though, witnessing 'Na̱mgis artist Wayne Alfred wearing his Ba̱k'wa̱s mask in the woods on Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw territory, or hearing Maʼa̱mtagila artist Rande Cook speak about the energy and expressiveness of Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw masks, or being in the theatre and watching Pamyua dancing the Yup'ik masks carved by Yup'ik carver Drew Michael, have all been extremely powerful experiences that have opened my eyes to the power, stories, and the different meanings that masks can hold. 
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