News
Martin Genovski: I don’t Believe Animals Belong in the Circus, But I Also Think We Must Understand the Past
At 32. Sarajevo Film Festival documentary lovers and animal lovers alike will have the chance to see the world premiere of BEAR WITH ME, the first feature-length documentary by Bulgarian filmmaker Martin Genovski. The film tells the moving story of Maxy, a wild animal trainer who spent much of her life working in circuses. It explores the extraordinary bond between her and her furry companions.
When animal rights activists began campaigning against the use of animals in circuses, Maxy and her two oldest "daughters" – Natasha the bear and Diana the tigress – lost both their home and their livelihood. Diana was relocated to a zoo, where she eventually died of grief. Maxy refused to be separated from the aging Natasha, choosing instead to live in a trailer in the zoo's parking lot for as long as the bear was alive. The relationship between the two is filled with warmth, tenderness, and unconditional love. Watching them together, you can't help but wonder whether, for an animal that is clean, well-cared for, well-fed, and above all deeply loved, life in captivity might have been more humane than any alternative.
Maxy says she always felt safer with her animals than with people because they never let her down. She rarely allowed anyone into her private world. How did you manage to earn her trust and get her to open so honestly to tell you about her life?
Trust came through time. We spent many days together and talked for dozens of hours, often without filming. She got used to us and developed a warm relationship with our cinematographer, Vladimir Trifonov. In a way, she saw him almost like a grandson. She enjoyed his presence, she was amused that he was always walking around with the camera, and sometimes she wondered what on earth he was filming so much. We succeeded in filming Maxy and her bear for more than 3 years, backed by the producer Martichka Bozhilova from Agitprop. We never forced anything, and in return we were never refused access, even in difficult moments.
You support the story with a wealth of archival material from the world of circuses, animal training, and Maxy's career. She still treasures old photographs, posters, and costumes from that period. How difficult was it to track down archival footage, even though Maxy was once such a well-known performer?
We were lucky that Maxy had preserved an enormous personal archive: photographs, newspaper articles, posters, costumes, and objects connected with her career. There are thousands of photographs, arranged chronologically, going back to her parents in the 1920s. For us, this was a time capsule. Finding video archives was much more complex. We were fortunate to work with two extraordinary archive producers: Monika Preischl, who did the same job for documentaries like Riefenstahl and Gladbeck: The Hostage Crisis, together with her collaboratress, Mona El-Bira. They found remarkable footage of Maxy and of her parents, also circus animal trainers. The archives allowed us to follow not only Maxy’s life, but also a wider transformation in Europe: from the decades when people went to the circus largely because of the animals to today, when this practice is rejected in many places.
You captured some beautiful moments of tenderness and communication between Maxy and Natasha. How did Natasha react to your presence? Was she bothered by the camera or any of the filming equipment?
Natasha had a reputation for having a strong temper. In the past, many people were afraid of her. Even Marcello, Maxy’s husband, 22 years younger than her, was careful around Natasha. The only person who was never afraid of her, and whom Natasha never threatened, was Maxy. We met Natasha in her late 30s when she was already very old, so her reactions were slower than before, but they were still there. We followed Maxy’s instructions very strictly. She knew exactly what was possible and what was not. After all, her whole life had been spent working with bears, often in front of audiences full of children. She had an instinctive understanding of Natasha’s moods. Natasha was curious about the camera, but we worked carefully and respected the animal’s space. In a real sense, Natasha accepted us through Maxy. If Maxy was calm, Natasha could accept our presence. For Natasha, Maxy was not simply a trainer - she was her person.
Throughout the film, you subtly touch on the political backdrop – from the years when circuses were thriving to the changes that followed, including the ban on keeping and training wild animals in captivity. Do you think one kind of circus has simply been replaced by another – the one we all live in today?
For me, it is more important to understand what the circus meant in different historical moments. Maxy was born in Germany during the Second World War and was a child survivor of Nazi persecution. Her father was sentenced to death because of his Jewish background, and the family hid from Hitler’s executioners in a zoo, surviving on leftovers. She told me that after the war, when much of Europe was in ruins, the circus became a magical place of comfort and escape. For a few hours, people could enter the tent and forget the destruction outside. And after that Maxy developed a huge career in the Soviet bloc, especially in Bulgaria, when the circus was put on a pedestal. I don’t believe animals belong in the circus, but I also think we must understand the past before judging it too easily. Now, we have other entertainment, but the circus has a place. It is the first performing art children encounter. They can laugh, shout, clap, react openly. Among circus people there is a saying: the circus is eternal because it is round.