Etienne Fourie on ‘Trompoppie’

South African writer and director Etienne Fourie is best known for his feature films, Die Windpomp, Dis Koue Kos, Skat, Liewe Kersfeesvader, and Stiekyt. A skilled filmmaker, who has made a significant impact, he’s turned his attention to longer format storytelling with Trompoppie. Spling decided to find out how more about Fourie’s creative process and what went into making the crime mystery drama mini-series, which is now streaming on Showmax.

How long has the idea for Trompoppie been brewing and was it always intended to be served as a series?

I had the initial idea for Trompoppie while on set for another project. I’m not sure what triggered the idea, but I saw Luna very clearly in my mind and she was sitting on the floor of a sunlit bedroom. I knew that it wasn’t her bedroom, but I didn’t know why. She was an invader, an alien in a new world. The idea of a trompoppie (“drum majorette”) has always been fascinating to me.

It’s visually exciting and — to me, at least — represents the idea of innocence and celebration. I wanted to turn the idea on its head and see what comes out. Merging the idea of our Luna-alien with that, I ended up with the core concept. The rest was colouring in and inventing the world, which is the fun part. The idea was always meant to be a series — I knew I needed to do more with the story and explore the characters in a way that a feature length film wouldn’t allow.

Did you write this series with specific actors in mind and what surprised you during the casting process?

I honestly never write with actors in mind. I know people tend to not believe me when I say that, but it’s the truth. It makes for a challenging casting process, but I also feel strongly that the characters need to evolve in ways that I cannot do myself — I want the actors to feel empowered, to fill the shoes of their characters in ways that excite them. With an ensemble cast, the challenge is also to have the cast as a whole balance, which becomes a very tricky puzzle to build. It might sound a bit gloomy, but it really is an exceptionally fun and rewarding
process. We have incredible actors in this country and it’s an honour and a privilege to get to collaborate with some of them.

Where, how and under what conditions do you find you accomplish your best writing?

Nothing is more inspiring to me than a deadline when it comes to the actual writing. The challenge, however, is always the gap between having the initial idea, the core concept, and building it to a satisfying whole. For me, the only way to do that is to consider — and by that I mean actually write — all possibilities for the story. Just my notes on my next feature film are in excess of 100,000 words already. I’m probably 70% there. I drive myself mad, but it’s the only way that works for me. The best conditions for coming up with concepts, is for me to be bored
— which doesn’t happen often anymore, for which I’m both grateful and a little terrified about.

You’ve assembled a star-studded local ensemble and have worked with some industry stalwarts in the past… what do you think actors like most about working on your productions?

It’s truly a lovely compliment that actors I admire are willing to work with me. I always try my best to create characters that are fun challenges for actors. I also believe strongly in the power of collaboration. There’s no way that I will ever in this life know as much about the craft of acting as someone like Anna-Mart van der Merwe, for example, so I’d be a fool to pretend I do. My sincerest aim is to try and create characters that are simultaneously consistent and well-rounded (which is necessary for telling the specific story), yet leave room for them to be
surprising — both to the audience and to the actors. I think it’s the gap between those two points where actors can really bring life and colour to a character.

Did you have any references going in and how much do other works factor into your creative process?

I honestly don’t ever create with any references in mind, and I’m always having to go and find some afterwards (after the writing process) to help communicate the visuals and tone of the project to team members, higher-ups, etc. That being said, I think everything we consume as
viewers gets stuck somewhere in our minds, so essentially everything influences everything, whether we’re conscious of it or not. When I’ve spoken to people about Trompoppie, they instinctively tend to want to compare it to existing shows (that I haven’t seen), and I actually get a bit of a kick out of it, because having pre-conceived ideas going into it are the perfect conditions for surprising and even shocking an audience. They should never be able to see it coming.

What were some of the challenges of pulling Trompoppie out of the hat?

Everything. [insert nervous laughter here] Trompoppie was challenging from the word go. (The writing process, however, was painless, for which I’m eternally grateful.) Filming was incredibly challenging. The show is big in the sense that we have a big cast, plenty of locations and we had very little time to get it all done. We had numerous technical challenges, the least of which was filming during the rainy season. I’ve never been as tired in my life as I was after filming Trompoppie.

I lost 12kg during filming. But I can honestly say that it’s all worth it. I had the privilege of working with people for the first time on Trompoppie that I cannot now imagine ever not working with again. Sunel Haasbroek (cinematographer), Melissa Myburgh (lead actress) and Misha Beare (colourist) are extraordinary talents and some of the coolest people I know.

Music plays a big part of Trompoppie’s world. It seems like you really had fun with the selection, moving from classical to more contemporary sounds, can you tell us what inspired your choices?

Tonally, Trompoppie is challenging. We shift from dramatic to humorous in the blink of an eye, especially with characters like Jill (Marion Holm) and Elzet Nel (Mindy), which creates a big challenge for the music. Loki Rothman, the composer, is absolutely brilliant with navigating that. I don’t use the word “genius” lightly, but it absolutely applies to Loki. He scored hours of new music for the show and I cannot wait for audiences to hear it.

Overall, with all departments, I always favour — and push for — the more adventurous options. It’s always more interesting to me to be surprised by something. The challenge, of course, is to not have it be jarring, but a welcome surprise. There’s a very thin line between the two — one that I often cross. But it’s meant to be fun, this. Otherwise there’s really very little point to any of it, I feel.

The series has cinematic flair with transportive visuals. Now that you’ve worked on long form and short form productions, which would you say works best for you?

I love how much I can focus on certain details in the shorter format of a feature film. There’s more time to do it and less footage to scrutinise. Typically, a feature film screenplay is about 110 pages — Trompoppie was a total of 540. And we only had twice the time as we would on a feature, but five times the amount of content. It’s running a marathon, but at the speed of a sprint. It’s also quite liberating in a way — there’s no time for second-guessing. You have to simply follow your instincts and live with it. That’s a very important muscle for any filmmaker to develop, I think. I’m grateful that I had the opportunity to do that on Trompoppie.

What are some of the films and shows that really captured your imagination growing up and when did you realise you wanted to write and direct?

At film school I always felt quite self-conscious about my tastes in film and television. Everyone else had really cool and obscure references and, naturally, Tarantino fanaticism going on. I really didn’t. I’m all about the more classically commercial filmmakers like Spielberg. I love E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and Jurassic Park. I’ve also been obsessed with The Lord of the Rings for twenty years. And my all-time favourite film is probably Arrival. More recently, I was blown away by El Conde and Everything, Everywhere, All at Once.

The first time I wrote anything was at the age of 8 or 9. It was a story about four bickering dragons who live in a cave. And when they
realise that there’s no longer enough space for all of them, they have to decide which one will be kicked out. I’m pretty sure there’s some weird psychological stuff going on there, but oh well.

I started out as a fine artist (I was always the weirdo kid who painted on everything and drew pictures in class) and when the page/canvas/wall was no longer big enough to contain the pictures in my head, I had to start writing them down. Film felt like the best combination between my love for images and stories.

You’ve established yourself as a director who likes to tackle visually-captivating projects that push the boundaries. What would you say are your greatest strengths as a storyteller?

I honestly think any storyteller’s greatest tool is their own, personal tastes and sensibilities. I can’t put myself in the mind of the idea of a storyteller that I think I ought to be. I trust my instincts. It can be a bit self-indulgent, making things the way I think they should be, but my rule is to ultimately always serve the story and the audience sitting on the other side of the screen.

Those are the boundaries and they are immovable. Within that structure, I feel my job essentially is to decorate the house in a way that I would want to live there. I suppose, if I had to put my finger on it, I’d say that is my greatest strength as filmmaker — allowing myself to create freely, or at the very least create the illusion for myself, within specific perimeters.

I’ve noticed a sinister undercurrent to your films. Would you want to go darker if given the chance?

Oh, absolutely! What will most likely be my next project is by far the darkest thing I’ve ever done. I think there are things far scarier than monsters. I suppose it’s a form of therapy, allowing myself to explore darkness from the relative safety of my writing or directing chair. That sounds incredibly pretentious, I’m sorry. But it really is the truth.

Which of your films are you most proud of, and why?

I think the firstborn always has a special place in your heart — Die Windpomp turns ten years old in April. I’m also immensely proud of Stiekyt, simply because I had the opportunity to try things that I’d never been able to before. Even if someone tells me they hate it, it doesn’t break my heart (unlike some of the others!), because I know the film is what we wanted to make and I’m proud that we managed it, flaws and all.

While playful in their own way, your films have a soul-searching maturity that separates them from conventional “South African” productions. Would you call yourself a screenwriter who directs, a director who writes or is it somewhere more in the middle?

First of all, thank you for saying that. It means a lot. I definitely have a pretty serious case of imposter syndrome and I still feel like a fraud, like I’d be caught out any day and told to leave the building. Honestly, I get a kick out of creating a “world” that didn’t exist before. It’s my version of the world. It’s a place where I have some control.

I’d probably call myself a writer first and a director second, simply because set-life is torture to me. It’s difficult for me to be creative when I’m exhausted, standing in pouring rain in the wee hours of the morning, waiting for a light to go up or whatever. That being said, I can’t imagine myself doing anything else. It’s like family: you don’t always have to like them, you just love them. I have that relationship with directing.

What advice would you have for up-and-coming writers and directors… is there a blueprint to success?

I honestly don’t know if there is a blueprint or a specific path to take. The one thing that has helped me, however, is reminding myself that I can only call myself a writer when I actually write. And an idea is worth nothing, people have them all the time — but it can be the most valuable thing on earth if you write it down, do the work. And always follow your instincts, I think. Figure out what makes your heart beat faster, what excites you most of all, and the chase that feeling until you reach your audience.