Julia Kostiukevich
Julia Kostiukevich is a Moscow-born filmmaker and writer. She studied history and shamanic traditions at Lomonosov Moscow State University before graduating as a film director from the Gerasimov Institute of Cinematography (VGIK). She has directed several short films and also writes fiction. Her work is shaped by a fascination with history, mythology, human nature, and the experience of living between different cultures. She has travelled extensively and lived in several countries, collecting stories and perspectives that continue to influence her creative work. Julia currently lives and works in New York.
9/8/20266 min read
So that the producers have the maximum information about you, who are you?
I was born in Moscow, to a teacher and an engineer. No one in my family was involved in the arts, but reading was highly valued, and we had huge bookshelves lining the walls. My parents worked a lot, and I spent much of my time alone. I loved making up stories. Sometimes I would draw characters and cut them out of paper; other times I would cast my friends as the characters, and we would act out entire series of stories.
Of course, my mother wanted me to have a good, conventional profession, so I went to university to study history.
How many years have you been making movies?
Green Mist is my second narrative short film. Before that, I made several music videos, documentary projects, and one very short film.
What was your first experience making movies? Did you study at a film school or did you learn on your own?
One day, for some reason, I suddenly wanted to try making a film. I still don’t understand where that idea came from. I bought a small handheld camera and started shooting. I even invited my friends to be actors.
I never edited those first films, though, and I couldn’t understand why they weren’t working. Later I realized that cinema is a collaborative art — it is created together with other people.
Then I met other filmmakers and started helping them with their projects. And later, quite unexpectedly even for myself, I got into VGIK, the Gerasimov Institute of Cinematography. VGIK is a legendary film school and extremely difficult to get into. But the classes are very small, which gives students an opportunity to work closely with their master. My master was Sergei Solovyov, a famous Russian film director.
Is it a self-financed project?
While I was shooting Green Mist, I was finishing my studies at VGIK and received support from the school. For example, VGIK provided the cameras and professional equipment, as well as the opportunity to do professional sound recording and post-production.
But we were strictly forbidden to shoot at night or to create fog using pyrotechnics. And how could I possibly make a film called Green Mist without any mist? So we had to improvise and find every possible — and impossible — way around it.
Any anecdote that you can tell us about the filming?
My favorite meme is an image of great filmmakers. In the Russian version, it shows directors Tarkovsky, Konchalovsky, and cinematographer Vadim Yusov, with the caption: “We shoot weddings. Expensive.”
A terrifying warning for an ambitious film-school graduate.
If you had an unlimited budget, which actor and actress would you like to work with?
I honestly don’t know yet. Of course, professional actors are extraordinary artists, and I deeply respect that. But I also enjoy working with people I happen to meet who have never acted in a film before but have a strong presence and a distinctive look.
Your favorite movie?
I have several favorite films. One of them is Fellini’s La Strada. I could watch it endlessly. Or Nights of Cabiria. Or Coppola’s The Godfather.
Tell us 3 filmmakers that you like.
I love rewatching Fellini, Hitchcock, and Woody Allen. I also love Russian directors — Alexei Uchitel, Kira Muratova, Sergei Solovyov, Kirill Serebrennikov.
That turned out to be more than three.
What is the scene that has impacted you the most?
The most difficult scene to shoot was the key scene with the mist.
We had a smoke machine and smoke bombs. We were shooting in the courtyard of a semi-abandoned factory, hoping the walls would help contain the mist for a little while. But it disappeared within three minutes.
We had only a limited amount of smoke-producing powder, so we had to shoot very quickly. The smoke machine blasted smoke like a steam locomotive, while what we needed on camera was a soft, delicate haze.
Someone from the crew would stand next to the smoke machine or off to the side, waving as hard as they could, trying to stay out of frame while spreading the smoke evenly.
The characters were supposed to be nude in the mist. It was cold. Despite everything, the moment the mist “shot” out of the smoke machine, my fearless actors would throw off their coats and run into the frame.
I’m sure that from the outside it looked completely wild, insane, and funny. But we were extremely serious and focused.
If you could do a remake of a movie, what would it be?
Right now, I would like to turn a Chekhov play into a contemporary film. So not exactly a remake of a movie, but an adaptation of a play.
Maybe that has something to do with my current fascination with playwriting. Everywhere I look, in all the absurd and anecdotal stories of contemporary life, I seem to see Chekhov.
Did you have lighting designs, or did you shoot with the same light as the location? Can you explain the process of working with a cinematographer?
One of the great advantages of my project was that we had access to professional equipment, so we were able to light most of the scenes.
I love natural light. I wanted the film to feel light and effortless, almost as if it had been captured by accident. I was afraid that carefully designed lighting might make the story too artificial.
My cinematographer, Alexandra Semenova, and I argued about this sometimes because she really wanted to explore what she could do with lighting. But I think she ultimately managed to create exactly that feeling of lightness.
Did you have any problems when shooting?
Throughout the filming, things sometimes didn’t go according to plan. Sometimes something would happen to a crew member and they simply couldn’t come to the shoot. For a tiny-budget independent film where everyone is working for free, that is quite normal.
Sometimes I had to be the director, art director, driver, and administrator all at once.
But most of the problems were solved somehow. I can only admire the resilience and dedication of my actors.
And in terms of sound? Neighbors, flushing, cars?
We found some very interesting locations for the film. I discovered them myself, almost by accident, and they made me want to shoot the film specifically in those places. I even changed the screenplay slightly because of them.
There was an abandoned factory, an empty courtyard covered in graffiti, and a bar owned by friends of mine, where basically only their friends ever went.
For example, the final scene with the old man and the gun was shot in his actual apartment. He lived in an abandoned building in the center of Moscow and was the only resident. There were no neighbors at all. Somehow, he even had electricity in the apartment. How that was possible was a miracle.
They were planning to evict him, but he defended himself with a gun. (Just kidding.)
He was delighted to appear in the film and turned out to be an extremely talented actor.
How was the producer-director relationship?
VGIK was officially the producer because the school provided the cameras and the post-production studio.
That gave us much greater technical possibilities, but it also made the process more complicated. Sometimes I felt almost as if they didn’t want us to actually make the film. During production, I had to write bureaucratic letters and explain and justify why almost every scene was necessary.
And working with actors? Tell us about this process. How do you work with the actors?
Some of my actors were professionals and some were not.
For example, the collector in the first scene, Alexander Petlura, is a punk, a performer, and a well-known figure in Moscow’s bohemian scene. He had already appeared as himself in films by several prominent directors, and it was a great honor for me that he agreed to be in my little film.
The main character, Dodik — the man with the cigarette — was played by Nikolai Golubev, a theatrical actor. I saw him performing on stage and invited him to be in my film. He agreed, which was amazing.
The acrobat on stilts, Sasha Shitikova, was a fearless beauty and an acting student at VGIK at the time; she is now a professional actress. She learned to walk on stilts specifically for my film and agreed to perform naked in freezing mist on a cold day. She is my hero.
The old man was Vladimir Zakharov, the “terror of the neighborhood” and a wonderful creative person. He let us shoot in his home, completely inhabited the role, and, in my opinion, gave an amazing performance.
Olim Godoev, a person of short stature, was someone I met completely by chance on the street. The moment I saw him, I realized that my film simply couldn’t exist without him.
Do you have any other project in progress?
I have recently moved to New York. It is a breathtaking city that captures the imagination, a city where you can get lost — a circus city, a theater city.
I became interested in writing short stories and plays.
But recently I had an idea for a new short film called It Happened in New York. I want to make it very light and effortless, almost like a documentary. I have already found several places where I would like the story to happen.