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In The River with Team Sorensen by Don Schwartz
Filmmaker William Sorensen captures his quarry, beauty, near Mill Creek. photo: W. Sorensen
NORTHERN CALIFORNIA FILMMAKER
William Sorensen spent the better part of the last 25 years writing and producing industrial films for the high tech world. But then, along with his core producing team—wife Stella Kwiecinski and friend Nancy Econome—Sorensen released his first feature documentary, “The Russian River: All Rivers–The Value of an American Watershed” in the fall of 2014.
With a two-hour plus running time and exquisite cinematography, this film about California’s storied Russian River presents a comprehensive history of the river and the damage wrought upon it by us humans.
The title says it all. It is quickly obvious that the film is about all rivers, all watersheds. It also marks a quantum leap for the filmmakers into the documentary film world, and into an expanded approach to media production and distribution. The raw power of “The Russian River” augurs well for Sorensen and company in their future efforts.
I requested an interview and spoke with Sorensen telephonically at his Sonoma home—Kwiecinski and Econome participated in our conversation. The three are the sole members of the film’s production team. Sorensen’s acknowledgement of and support for his crew is the deepest, most passionate I have ever heard. The nexus of their initial meetings was at San Francisco State University’s graduate film program which all three attended.
Born in Wisconsin, Sorensen attended the University of Wisconsin, and San Francisco State University’s graduate film program, and has traveled extensively.
Kwiecinski is from Stony Point, New York. She attended Cornell University and San Francisco State University’s film graduate film program. Her background includes art and photography.
Econome, a native Californian, attended UC Davis, and also attended San Francisco State University’s graduate film program. The three were re-united when they worked together on projects for the wine industry.
CineSource: William, how did you became involved with media?
Willaim Sorensen: My first critical thoughts about film came when I wrote reviews for a college newspaper. It was around then that I began to dabble in the filmmaking process. I worked on a few shorts, and remember the first time I shot with a Bolex. We processed the footage ourselves. I still own a Bolex, and still think of it as a remarkable piece of technology.
I’ve always been interested in writing, and like Stella, did my fair share of painting and drawing when I was a kid and believed I had some natural skill in that area. I was fascinated with art of any kind. There are elements in this current film which link to my childhood. My mother, Caroline, was an avid angler who absolutely loved to fish. My parents would take us to Canada every summer on fishing trips. Of all of us—my brother, father and I—my mother was the superior angler.
Some of that beautiful quarry on the lower Russian River. photo: W. Sorensen
She became a kind of local legend at the provincial campgrounds we frequented year after year, known for catching her limit when everyone else was having bad luck. My dad admired her skill and passion for angling. I remember this resolute red-headed little lady—rod and reel in hand—pushing our little boat away from the dock at the crack of dawn in any kind of weather with two sleepy kids aboard. Nothing would or could stop her! We ate a lot of fish.
What happened after you completed school?
From early childhood, my goal was to get out into life. I would hike everywhere alone. While I enjoyed study, my mind was always on travel. After college, that’s exactly what I did. It didn’t matter how—plane, train, boat, car or on my thumb—I was intent on seeing the world. To me, travel was its own right of passage.
What of the world did you see?
I set out to see much of Mexico and Central America, especially Belize. I did a lot of skin diving on the magnificent Belizean reef. We would spear fish... just a mask, fins and maybe a weight belt. We’d often use a Hawaiian sling and eat whatever we speared, often raw, with mustard, peppers and salt, washed down with Beliken beer and rum. I guess fish and water have always been part of my life. The Belizean reef is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever beheld. Losing it is unthinkable.
I feel I’ve always felt we were pushing the limits… that the world couldn’t withstand our relentless taking. This was already apparent in the 70s, and is so much more so now. I’ve visited many of the world’s reefs. What we’re doing is shameful.
Later, I went on to Europe, spending time in the U.K., Spain, Greece, and France. I spent a lot of time in the U.K., and got to know London pretty well.
What kind of activities were you doing on these travels?
I was one of those kids who could scrounge work no matter where I found myself. It’s harder for kids today. Before I left for Central America I worked and saved a bit of cash which lasted into the European leg of the trip. Before I started for Belize I scrimped and saved to buy a Toyota Landcruiser, fashioned a trailer out of an old pickup bed and loaded it full of books and necessaries. I’ll never forget the sense of freedom I felt as I drove that rig south.
What happened after Europe?
I discovered the graduate program in film at San Francisco State University after I returned to the U.S. I buttressed my student loans with money I earned processing grad students. I first encountered Stella via her files. Nancy entered the program about the time I did.
I want to take a step back. What drew you to filmmaking at that point?
Writing was very important to me… so were images and motion. Really, making, or experiencing films seemed more natural… more elemental… more than the sum of all of the parts. All over the world, great films were being made in the late sixties and seventies. There was this sense that the form was being re-invented. There was Vietnam and its aftermath. So much had been wrong leading up to it. Film seemed equal parts inquiry, escape and confrontation—a good way to get some sort of handle on what seemed an unhinged world.
After film school what was the next step?
A kayaker enjoys the mouth of the Russian River, in an estuary, near Jenner. photo: W. Sorensen
Before I could begin the process of making independent films, I found myself making a living making promotional films. I realize now I should have stretched more, but better late than never. There is so much important work to do no matter where or when in life you decide to jump in, it’s never a bad idea or too late. What’s interesting about the three of us is we stayed in the Bay Area. I tried working for others, but it never worked, and I wasn’t drawn to a job in Hollywood. We found our own way.
We formed our first company, Intrepid Productions, in 1986, in San Francisco.
How did that go?
We found work within a month and remained busy from then on. This carried on for 25 years.
During that time what kinds of productions were you making?
Silicon Valley was an enormous magnet in those days and, in many more ways, it still is. Everyone was drawn in. We weren’t entirely aware of it at the time, but we were in the business of branding and corporate image building. Our clients allowed us considerable latitude. There were good, even great and some bad results. We wrote, directed, shot and edited everything we did. Turnaround times were blistering. We acted like a one-stop ad agency and shot miles of film. We won awards for many of those projects.
I traveled the world doing them—Asia, Europe, the Philippines, Malaysia and Singapore. Growth in China was mind-boggling. Shanghai was already growing leaps and bounds in 1997 and 98. Dizzying ‘Koyaanisqatsi’ development. It was fascinating and a bit frightening.
I interviewed dozens and dozens of people. Going back to my fondness for the place, I’d fly crew in from the U.K. British crew members were sublimely at home and intrepid travelers. Looking back, there were many talented, truly wonderful people wherever we went. Besides rented gear, I’d carry my Bolex. The stuff I shot then still looks great.
When did you move to the wine country, and what brought you there?
We bought a house in 1989, in what we’d hoped would remain a quiet country setting. That was about the time we opened our Marin County offices in San Rafael.
Is it correct to say you were making industrial films?
I don’t think they qualify. Typically, industrial films were stiff… largely informational. Our work often broke new ground and included sophisticated computer generated animation, aerial work and was originated on 35mm film. The competition to differentiate and grab and hold attention was stiff in a market where single systems were valued in the millions of dollars. Many projects we produced were designed to inform and keep shareholders.
Many of our clients manufactured semi-conductor manufacturing systems. These companies were continually breaking new ground in a multi-billion dollar market. The technologies they created—it seemed like every few months—never existed before. It was fascinating to observe that relentless innovation. Our films were essentially their commercials.
It seems you were very close to being documentary filmmakers.
There were many instances in which we crossed over.
That brings us to “The Russian River”.
We never intended to work in the wine industry. We were focused on our work in Silicon Valley. We were drawn in because we lived here, and faced with the opportunity of shooting beautiful vineyards we couldn’t resist. It was a nice change from our high tech work… an introduction to the land and eventually to the Russian River.
We got very close to the river. Most people only see it as they drive over a bridge. Of course there are those who kayak or are directly involved in its ecology. They have a connection, but for the general public that’s not true. Before we worked for the wine industry we were, like most people, part of the great general public… hardly aware that a major source of life was coursing through the land on which we lived. But soon I found myself up to my armpits in the river, shooting canoes as they paddled by. At that moment I knew something was wrong. I remember saying to Nancy, ‘Hey, this water feels too warm and the odor’s none too good.’
You wonder why and you ask. That was 2005. For a very long time it was common for the City of Santa Rosa to release millions of gallons of treated wastewater into the river. That’s changed. Now that wastewater is pumped more than 30 miles up into the Mayacamas Mountains, to the largest geothermal facility in the world. It’s used to replenish depleted steam fields.
Was there a certain moment when you decided to make this documentary?
That was the moment, standing there and shooting in the river. Our quest really began when we met the wonderful people in the film. Linda Burke and her husband Ted, who own Burke’s Canoes and supplied canoes to us for the commercial project we were doing were the first. She told us of the halcyon days on the Russian when people from all over the Bay Area saw the river as a lovely destination. You could get to and enjoy the river easily in those days. That period covered decades from the 30s into the 80s. There were big band dance floors right on the water. It was a romantic time when people saw and experienced rivers differently. In the beginning the wine industry was part of that scene. In some places it still is.
After prohibition, the wine industry grew, but not as quickly as it has since the 80s. As far as European settlement is concerned, there have always been wine grapes here. Wineries were often family-owned, many were Italian.
Without making a fuss, people recognized and appreciated ‘terroir’. That term refers to the deep connection the grape, and resultant wine, has to the place where it’s grown. People, rainfall, geology, the minerality of the soil contribute to it. The result is flavor… the flavor of a unique place on earth. Everyone claims the Russian River as an elemental part of this notion of terroir. It seems to appear on every label.
Linda Burke remembered all of it. When harm came to the river it was very personal for her. Tears would well up in her eyes. It was after all her story. Linda introduced us to Don McEnhill.
Don is executive director of Russian Riverkeeper one of dozens of concerned Riverkeeper advocates who get out and do the hard and dirty work of caring for and protecting watersheds. He musters volunteers and personally patrols the waterways to ensure no harm is done. It’s a very big job. Don’s interview is central to the film.
I’m curious. Was there a certain point, an event that catalyzed your decision to make the film?
This is something we’ve known about since the 70s. We’ve observed the effects and followed the alarming statistics. Our planet is under siege and it’s the only one we’ve got. There are no simple solutions. When you’re standing in river water, and it doesn’t smell or feel like river water you know you must do something. We looked to our skill set.
Stella Kwiecinski: I’d like to add to that. William quickly pointed out the ironic nature of this particular place. Here it’s so beautiful. And people come to this area; they’re attracted to visit because of this great beauty. There’s no denying that. And yet there is another side to this area that people don’t see or don’t understand, don’t realize. Those are elements for a good story—what’s on the surface and what’s underneath.
William: When I wrote the original outline, I was struck by the story’s irony. Here we were in this beautiful place, a place which everyone claims, yet no one wants to admit they have any impact. It’s the irony of our entire country… certainly of every watershed. We’re like the frog placed in a pan of cold water on a stove. The heat is turned up incrementally and the water slowly grows warmer. The change is so imperceptible the frog doesn’t recognize what’s happening to him until it’s too late.
I have some more questions about the film. What were the years of shooting, and when did you get picture lock?
We continued our commercial work well into the making of the film and filmed material whenever we could. We date the start of the project from 2009, when we filmed Don McEnhill’s interview. We interviewed 50 people for the film, more than half of those interviews appear in the film. We flew to Canada for Maude Barlow’s interview. We did a lot of work between 2010 and 2012. The real effort came in 2013 and 2014… the last year and a half. We did the final edit, the music recording during that period. We had picture-lock in the fall of 2014.
What’s happened since then?
It’s been phenomenal. You know we broke every rule regarding distribution. Differentiating between a strictly commercial project and a project that must be done is a scary proposition. You simply steel yourself and get on with it. Our goal was more about effectiveness than numbers. Looking at it that way, we achieved our goal.
This film wasn’t intended for a mass audience. It was designed to be effective within a certain region. To date, we’ve screened the film 25 times, in theaters with as many as 150 to 300 seats… almost all have been to capacity. We’ve had to turn people away.
It’s a strictly not-for-profit film. We do ask for donations. People have been generous… but everyone’s welcome. The greatest reward is to see audiences respond to a story that has a direct effect on their own community. Every time we’ve shown the film people have approached us and said, “I just didn’t know that. I had no idea.”
You mentioned that this is a regional film, but the subtitle is ‘All Rivers’. And that was my impression. I felt like I was seeing a documentary film about all rivers.
I’m glad you brought that up. When we were making the film we realized you could do a film like it for every watershed in the world. Each and every one would have things in common as well as its unique story. Watersheds cover the earth. We wish we could tell all their stories.
Your team was Stella, Nancy, and yourself. Who did what?
I did the writing, directing—if there is such a thing in a documentary film—and the shooting, and editing. But, really, when you’re doing a project like this, everyone involved contributes. The film’s shape came from all of us. That’s the way I feel about it.
Stella was very much involved in research and, in the field, recorded sound. We worked hand-in-glove throughout the entire project. She managed inputting and outputting media, and became expert. I cannot stress how important that task is—especially when you have so much material and there was so much to catalogue. We archived hundreds of drives. If you add all the discussions and editorial evaluations, you can see that the project was shared in every way.
Nancy likes to say she volunteered, but she is and was much more than a volunteer! Just as with us, the project became her life. By falling in love with the river, she also fell head over heals into the project. We shared the obsession. In the field she was everywhere… carting cranes, generators and cables up steep hills, wading in the river with a reflector to chase the light. She did all the work that needed to be done.
Stella and Nancy would often team up doing sound recording… Stella monitoring and Nancy operating boom. Together they’ve also done a fine job getting the word out. They’ve mastered the internet and used it as a bullhorn for the project. Their effort has gotten the watershed the attention it deserves.
People see the film and they ask us sometimes how many people were involved. When we tell them it was just the three of us, they fall silent.
Nancy Econome: What I think people are responding to in the film are all the complexities that they didn’t know existed in their watershed, and other rivers as well. One might think there’s a problem with too much contaminant, or another person might think run-off might be the problem. But when there’s a panoply of problems and issues we have to confront, and then the fixes to them are equally complex, people really want to know that information, and they want to know how to help. This film has those issues all in one place. People can bite on that, wrestle with it, and think how they can help do a better job in their area. That’s what’s been resonant with people when they watch the film.
Right now you’re promoting the film in northern California, are you thinking about expanding that?
William: Yes. We’re an official selection at the International Wildlife Film Festival, in Missoula, Montana. Obviously, the internet’s very important. The film will be broken into chapters, and offered on Vimeo and YouTube. We have an upcoming project about sustainability which will make extensive use of the internet. We intend to continue to use the film there.
Tell me about that project.
It will be a series of short projects, of varying lengths, grouped together by theme—a sustainability pastiche.
Do you have a title?
Yes, “SustainXtreme”. As we see it, the Titanic is moving toward the iceberg. Most everyone we deem credible is saying the collision is inevitable. Rather than rearrange the deck chairs, we’re looking for technologies and methodologies that can be taken up right now, that can minimize the damage. What you or I, to adjust course, can do today. This means facing facts and learning to live well while, at the same time, reducing our dirty socio-economically generated carbon footprint. We have to change course to save habitat and the creatures that live here. That includes us.
It seems that you’ve come a long way in your life as a filmmaker.
“The Russian River: All Rivers” is kind of a renaissance for us. While we learned our trade doing countless, often very pretty, commercial projects, this work is different. It feels terribly important and essential. If, at 25, I had been in the river and experienced what I did in 2005, I might have made a similar choice to the one we’ve made with this film.
How are you financing your work as documentary filmmakers?
When we were producing commercial work, it always came to us. Everything was word of mouth. Once you focus on a project like this your entire being is drawn in and money becomes less important. You do need to have a little cash salted away. Along the way, we did refuse some work. And I know because we chose an uncomfortable or inconvenient topic we may alienate some potential clients, but those who accept the truth about our highly mutual situation will appreciate what we’ve done.
There is a path ahead. This mission of learning to respect our complex and infinitely interconnected environment has got to become everyone’s mission. If our system of capital is sane it will find monetary value in the work we do. Survival, I would think, should be worth something.
Sure, we’re looking for work… work that does good—taking payment for that doesn’t hurt.
In many ways this film has become a calling card for what we want to do with our lives. Currently, we’re looking to fund SustainXtreme as well as a dramatic feature we’d like to do. We’re looking for partners or sponsors to join us.
I’m hearing some very responsible comments from millenials about what needs to be done and seeing some exciting action as well! Elon Musk’s ‘Powerwall’ is a stunning, breakthrough innovation. I think people are reeling a bit from what it implies for the future. Brilliant!
We have to re-rig our ship to sail better. I’ve got faith in this new generation and I reckon they’ll see things for what they are. One thing is for sure—they don’t want to do it in the same, heavy handed, fossil fuel way we’ve been doing it. They may be the generation that discards antiquated short-term thinking for a longer view. Maybe they’ll see fracking for the insane, short term deal with the devil that it is.
This world is for everyone. Taking a cue from Mr. Musk, we need a new age of philanthropy and respect. Making this film was an essentially philanthropic act on our part…our bid on a more balanced world.
As David Keller says in the film: ‘We must only do what is safe.’
Don Schwartz is an actor, writer and blogger on all things documentary, and can be seen here or reached .