A story about a stalker and the magic of the big screen
Disclaimer: I published this article before, but that was a long time ago and in a semi-private format, so I decided to update it a bit and make it publicly available.
Art demands sacrifice!
I remembered a funny story that happened to me on May 17, 2018.
Actually, this is the story of how I first ended up inside the huge Martenovsky workshop at NTZ (I did take photos of it from the outside back in 2017, but that doesn’t count). It’s a true story; I didn’t make it up. Looking back, it’s pretty funny to me, especially when I imagine how it must have looked from the outside. That’s why I’m sharing this story for April Fools’ Day.
Here’s how it went…
(longread with photos follows)
They asked me (as a seasoned “industrial zone expert”) to show some filmmakers an abandoned industrial site “just for the sake of it” (and thanks for that, by the way)—they said the filmmakers were looking for locations.
I said, “Okay, no problem.” A call came in: “Come out, the car’s waiting.” I went to the designated spot—there was a huge, flashy SUV parked there, with four guys inside, all dressed like slobs. I got in the car—we drove off, getting to know each other along the way.
I introduce myself modestly: “Dan, architect, your guide for today.”
The man behind the wheel takes the initiative: “I’m the director of a film company; sitting next to you are the production director, the editor, and the chief cinematographer” (I won’t write down their names—I can’t remember them exactly, and it doesn’t matter for this story anyway). “We’re shooting a feature film; we need locations.”
Me: “Okay, no problem—let’s head to the abandoned NTZ.”
We’re heading to the site, and I’m excited—at least I’ll get to drive through the industrial zone in an off-roader for once, instead of trudging through the dusty heat on foot. But bummer—the director dropped us off at the checkpoint and drove off, supposedly on business (probably to spare the car). We pass the gate, and I lead the filmmakers through the abandoned grounds of the Nizhnedneprovsky Pipe Plant. First, we head to the old foundry—a picturesque spot in my opinion, even if it’s in ruins—and I show them the seedy spots, watching the guys’ reactions.
Director: “Great!” Editor: “Awesome!” Director of Photography: “Not quite right!” A silent pause… Everyone shrugs and we move on.
I ask, “What kind of location are you looking for, so I can understand what you need?”
Director: “According to the script, we’ll have a few scenes that require a post-apocalyptic setting…”
I think to myself, “Wow!”—we’re already walking along the ridges, but okay, there are still a couple more spots. I suggest to them, “Want a bit of ‘light steampunk’? There are some old fuel oil storage tanks here—cool scenery?” The filmmakers nod, so I lead them to the fuel oil storage tanks. I point: “Here!”
Director: “Cool!” Editor: “And here we could render a skylight!” Director of Photography: “No good! Too green—too much to clean up…”
A silent pause…. Everyone shrugged, and we moved on.
I figure, well, okay, it’s not exactly epic movie material. I’ll take them to the big Marten plant—but the factory workers are still there. Even though the plant shut down in 2012, there’s still life there: people are dismantling things, hauling stuff out, and there’s a scramble for the leftover assets going on inside the plant. I call the plant’s public relations officer; he’d been warned about our visit, so he was ready to help. I explain the situation to him and say, “We’re heading to the open-hearth furnace; have them meet us and let us into the ‘temples of the steelworkers.’” We’ve got a deal.
I’m leading the film crew from the fuel oil storage facility to Marten—we pass by the old cooling towers; I don’t offer any suggestions myself, I just answer questions.
Director (pointing at the cooling towers) – “Whoa—what’s that?!” Editor – “There’s something to this!” Chief Cinematographer – “Damn it, guys—this isn’t right! Not right! Not dark enough…”
Editor – “It’s fine, look, I can add a filter here, and we’ll tweak the set over there…”
I silently lead the way. The chief cinematographer nervously quickens his pace so he doesn’t have to listen to his colleagues. I’m quietly laughing…
We approach Marten from behind; the gates are closed, and we all peer inside through the numerous holes in the workshop’s siding—inside, there’s epic destruction and a flurry of activity.
Director: “Ooooh! Aaaah, this is something else, isn’t it?!” Editor: “Just what we need!” The chief cinematographer, grinning wryly: “It’s unclear yet; we need to take a closer look!”
I say, “They’re waiting for us near the administrative building—let’s go take a closer look”…
I lead the filmmakers toward the eastern gates. We walk past the imposing sight of giant gas purification facilities.
Just keeping the conversation going, I say, “I really like these structures—they look epic…”
Director (casting a resigned glance at the chief cinematographer) – “Yeah—they’re great…” Editor (also unenthusiastically) – “Well… Um… It’s possible, but it’s not up to me…” Chief Cinematographer – “Come on, damn it, what’s wrong with you? This won’t work in a single shot either! You’ll have to ‘paint over’ that spot, that crap will be visible in the frame, and just imagine how many trees and bushes we’d have to cut down to clear away all that wild vegetation?”
I say, “It’s very gloomy and austere here in late fall—but it’s spring now, everything’s green.”
Chief Cinematographer: “Come on, screw that, we don’t have time for this!”
A silent pause… We all shrug and move on.
We arrive at the administrative building, and they’re already waiting for us. They take us to the shop foreman; I explain the situation and ask for help. The shop foreman says, “We’ll sort it out right away! We just need to find some hard hats for you—safety first, you know!”
They put helmets on us, and we head up to the walkway connecting the administrative building directly to the large open-hearth shop, ending up on a walkway (like a small balcony) above the shop’s eastern gates. An incredible interior of an industrial giant unfolds before our eyes—it’s as if we’re inside the belly of a giant steel whale; we can see its ribs, hear the clanging of metal—drafts rattle the old tin patches on the roof, and we can smell and even taste the particles of metal dust floating in the air. I’ve seen incredible industrial beauty before, but even I was blown away here. We stand, silent, enjoying the moment, taking it all in.
The foreman breaks the silence: “Well, go down there—sorry, I can’t take you—it’s against the rules, it’s dangerous down there. Just watch from here.”
The film crew starts bustling about, animatedly discussing something among themselves. I don’t care about the film crew anymore; I pull out my phone and start taking photos “for my own collection”…
Finally, the film crew gets involved…
Director (turning to the chief cameraman with an enthusiastic exclamation) – “That’s reeally not bad at all!!!” Editor (nodding approvingly) – “I mean, seriously, just look—it’s awesome, isn’t it?!” Chief Cinematographer (frowns and thinks for a long time) – “Yeah… But… no! Definitely—NO!”
The director and editor in unison: “Seriously, what the f***? You’re driving us crazy! Because of you, we’re not going to meet the deadline…”
But I don’t care about the filmmakers anymore—I’m just standing there enjoying the moment (while continuing to film on my phone) and having a casual chat with the foreman.
Oh, right—so what’s the latest with the filmmakers? The director of photography turned down the location. I decided to troll the artists one last time—I told them, “You know, I was at ‘Petrovka’ (the DMZ plant)—that’s exactly what you really need. No greenery, just iron oxide underfoot, huge blast furnaces, railroad tracks, a maze of pipelines, and an ore yard dozens of meters deep. A truly epic industrial landscape. I have some photos somewhere; I can show you. But there’s one big “BUT”!!! (pause) They definitely won’t let you take photos there!” )))
P.S.
They took me to their office, talked me into showing them my photos from Petrovka, and treated me to tea and some snacks. I showed them what I could from my photo archive—they seemed to like everything (for their purposes).
Later I found out that they actually asked to be allowed to shoot on Petrovka after that—but they were politely turned down.
And I had told them they wouldn’t be allowed in there. Art, as we know, demands sacrifices! My personal opinion is that one person’s principled stance within a team and unwillingness to make sacrifices doesn’t yield results.
In the end, several years have passed, and their film was never finished… well, at least I haven’t seen it in theaters or on TV.
No conclusions here—I just wanted to share a funny story with you.
Today, that open-hearth furnace shop no longer exists—it’s been dismantled. But after this story, I managed to shoot a few videos of this metal giant—I invite you to enjoy the views of this structure in one of my videos.
If you prefer the Telegram channel format – here’s a link to my channel – I post photos and some interesting tidbits there; the theme of my channel is ‘urban studies and industrial tourism’.
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If you prefer watching videos, here’s my YouTube channel on urban and industrial studies – https://www.youtube.com/c/DenWeissman/featured
