"Making of Cyberman"

Producer's Notes

My relationship with director Peter Lynch began with a feature-length documentary I produced while at the National Film Board several years ago, called "Project Grizzly." I'd heard tell of Troy Hurtubise, the central character, while I was working on another shoot for the NFB in Northern Ontario. Troy had apparently built an armoured suit made of space-age metals, and to test its resilience, he had been shot at with crossbows and guns. He'd also jumped off a cliff and been pummeled by huge logs. He was an unconventional animal behaviorist who'd constructed the suit so that he could pursue his life-long fascination with grizzly bears, up close and personal. To some, this might seem like unlikely material , but when I approached Gerry Flahive, the acting Executive Producer for NFB Toronto, and told him I wanted to make a feature-length documentary about a latter-day Don Quixote, he was immediately supportive. "Who do you want to direct?" he asked. It was Peter Lynch who came to my mind. Peter had directed a Genie-winning short film called "Arrowhead," which seemed to me to have a lot of appealing qualities. It was poetic, slightly crazed, funny and philosophic, sometimes simultaneously. Shortly afterwards, I met with Peter Lynch at an Input conference in San Sebastian in Spain. Peter, it looked to me, was the perfect choice to direct "Project Grizzly."

"Project Grizzly" was shot on film over 15 days and blown up to 35mm. It played in the Toronto International Film Festival and cinemas across Canada. It became a cult hit in places like Australia, had the cover of a leading Japanese magazine and was described by Hollywood mandarin Quentin Tarantino as one of his favourite films of the year. It was a film that worked on several levels, and played with equal appeal to feminists, good ol' boys and cine-astes.

The idea for "Cyberman" came to me from writer James Heer, who has had a lengthy professional relationship with "The Nature of Things." James had been following the career of the inventor and futurist Steve Mann, and thought that Steve would be a good subject for the series. "The Nature of Things," for the information of non-Canadian readers, the highly acclaimed documentary series on science, nature and medicine, has been on the air for 41 years, and is hosted by world-renowned writer and environmentalist David Suzuki.

Feeling that Steve Mann's story could translate well to a big screen, I decided to ask Peter whether he'd be interested in directing the project. Peter was fascinated by Steve Mann's compelling mix of techno-activism, futurism, preoccupation with aesthetics, and, of course, Steve's day-to-day life. This was a man who'd lived as a cyborg for 20 years, and communicated with his wife via a wearable computer. The preliminary meeting with Steve was a shade tense, but productive. Steve provided us with numerous references to articles, papers, and comments on his work. The outline and shooting script was rapidly completed and we moved into production. Or rather, we moved into negotiations about production. Not surprisingly, given Steve's activism and awareness of the mass media, he wanted to "police," so to speak, the picture. It began in small, but disconcerting ways: A draft of the script is sent to Steve for comment, and he replies in his usual incisive way, not only to its content, but to the content of the previous draft we had not sent. Steve had hacked into our script, rigorously analysing our editorial activity as soon as we'd begun! Early on, before we have a clear sense of the sophistication of Steve's recording devices, we begin to suspect we're being covertly recorded. We're right. Those superfly shades conceal a camera...and Steve is shooting us before we have even started shooting him!

Not surprisingly, given Steve Mann's philosophical interest in media manipulation and freedom of access, he wanted his own record of events. He was also determined to be portrayed in a manner that he thought appropriate while Peter obviously wanted to be sure that the film reflected his vision. Inevitably there was a degree of conflict. Suggested scenes would be analysed for their information value, their aesthetic significance. Every scene had to be negotiated in advance. Access was a matter of constant debate. Sometimes the only solution was to suspend filming until an agreement could be reached. I found myself playing the diplomat on many occasions.

There were other difficulties. Steve loves to improvise, and is constantly re-tuning his eyetap, cameras, and wearable computers as we film. A shot that is scheduled to take an hour morphs into four. In one scene on an island in Georgian Bay, we're still patiently waiting for Steve to get his gear together at three in the morning.

Finally, filming is completed and Peter's long-time collaborator, editor Caroline Christie, goes to work. She faces a mass of material. There's Super 16 film, DV, Steve's eyetap pictures and stills. There are three versions of the film to be made, the feature-length version, an international 52-minute version, and one at 44 minutes. Caroline works her customary magic, and other long-term collaborators join the project. Ken Myhr writes the music, Daniel Pellerin does the mix, Alison Clarke looks after the sound design. To complete the 35mm version we call on Soho Digital, who painstakingly re-shoots our entire digital video master.

The whole project from conception to completion took around nine months. Did it feel that long? You'd better believe it.

Steve offers his perspective on what footage should make the final cut.