Casting Director Alla Samoilenko

– It chose me. Casting is the only thing I’ve essentially done in my life. I started at the age of 23 when I joined the national “Miss Ukraine” committee. There was a modeling agency under the organization, and aside from my main administrative duties related to beauty pageants, I also worked as a booker and scout. I still know a lot about the modeling business… But as soon as I started making independent decisions, I lost my job. At one point, my boss fired me, and I ended up on the street. Internally, I was ready for it. A week later, I ran into Oles Sanin on Khreshchatyk. I had met him while working at the agency. He invited me to join a Ministry of Culture project called “Love Is…” — twelve short films, I think. I worked as an assistant in actor casting. At first, I told him: “I can’t do it! I don’t know any actors!” But he replied: “You’ve been doing this your whole life.” Since then, I’ve been in cinema since 2003. If you count my modeling casting experience, I’ve been in the profession for 23 years.

– My first “calling card” was “Brothers” by Viktoriya Trofymenko. Producers came and said: “Did you work on Brothers? Can we invite you?” That film launched my reputation in the film community. Other films that are very dear to me and where my work really showed include “When the Trees Fall”, “The Strayed”, and “My Thoughts Are Silent”. These have already been released. Then there are alternative projects like “Parthenon” by Mantas Kvedaravičius. That was a little scary to work on. It’s special — part documentary, made by someone who was first an anthropologist and then a filmmaker. He explored human nature, and you dove into this strange world that he first called “Stasis”, then “Parthenon”.

Every project adds something to me — as a person and a casting director. Every film is a laboratory. Each brings new experiences, vocabulary, and expands my mental library of actors’ faces, because I’m constantly looking for something new. A classic story: I found Oleg Voloshchenko for the role of Ilya Muromets in “The Stronghold”. He was shocked when I called — thought it was a prank. At the time, he was in a market in Lviv buying a toy sword for his son. He told me honestly why he couldn’t take part — theatre, tours… But then he googled the project and called me back. Some projects require convincing and perseverance, others just fall into place. For example, the short film “Mazhorka” was cast in just a few days. I already had a young girl in mind for the main role. Casting for the series “Sex, Insta and External Exam” took two days. Of course, we did a lot of prep online, but it was still a record. Everything depends on the director, the producer, and the team. If there’s a shared vision and people listen to each other — everything comes together. When too many people make decisions, the results are weak. But when the director has the final word — that’s when the magic happens.

Now I have a choice: I can accept a project or not. I allow myself the luxury of working with people I know well — directors I understand with just half a word: Zaza Buadze, Andriy Kavun, Myroslav Latyk, Antonio Lukich, Marysia Nikitiuk, Roman Perfilyev, Olya Ryashyna, and others. After the pandemic and many rejections, I finally found a young Turkish actress willing to come to Ukraine for “I, Victory and Berlin”. After that, I felt I had the right to take the motto: “Everything can be found!” That’s the beauty of this profession — it keeps opening up new horizons. Just when you think you know it all, a new challenge appears. And age is a benefit here: the longer you’re in the profession, the more valuable you are, the more memories and better soft skills you have.

– For me, it’s a constant process. Even over the last six months, I’ve discovered many — from the “Sex, Insta and External Exam” series by Lukich, where nearly all the main roles are debutants who will probably become stars soon, to projects like “I, Victory and Berlin” by Olya Ryashyna, “Rap Kings” by Myroslav Latyk, and “Border” by Andriy Kavun. Lots of unexpected choices. We have many good young actors. Maybe because they grew up in a different environment and had access to quality content, they don’t have that old-school theatrical tone. You can easily ask them to record a self-tape. We also have the phenomenon of unrecognized talent — fresh graduates from theatre schools who don’t get roles simply because there’s no material for them or no one notices them. Over the last few months, I’ve cast people who were about to quit acting — and they got lead roles in top projects. When I meet such a person, I start thinking immediately: Where can I put them? I build a 3D model of them in my head and carry it around until I find the right role. We also have many fascinating theatre actors who haven’t been discovered yet. Recently, I was stunned by one actor who had only acted in a few soap operas. He clearly didn’t belong there — he had a proper education, was over 30, lived in Kyiv, and even taught acting. But he was still “invisible” to the industry, even though he had a striking look. I “hunt” for such people, searching online.

This year will also bring new names. I support fresh debuts — the industry needs fresh faces, competition, and a functioning star system that works for the benefit of everyone.

– I don’t. I allow myself to roughly divide actors into cinematic and non-cinematic types. I look at each of them in the context of: What role could they play? In what material would this person look authentic? What’s considered good acting in TV doesn’t always fit cinema. Directors often say: This actor is performing in a “TV style.” One actor may seem good or bad to someone, but that doesn’t mean others will see it the same way. We lack common standards and mutual understanding, like in the American industry. Though even there, you can get both an Oscar and a Razzie in one year. But we all know that Meryl Streep and Robert De Niro are brilliant. One time, I set out to find a Ukrainian Brad Pitt — and found Roman Lutskyi. Then I looked for an Olivier Martinez — still no luck. But I did find an actor who closely resembles Volker Bruch from “Babylon Berlin” — not just physically, but in energy. If an actor has talent, charisma, intellect, and self-awareness — then they are my actor. If I can read someone, I’ll find a role for them. Sometimes I speak to someone and immediately sense: Their role is just around the corner. It’s the mystical part of the profession.

There are situations when I won’t invite an actor. For example, if they’ve publicly insulted me. It seems like we have a kind of sport around here: “Push Samoylenko.” Among those who feel “offended” are mostly people who don’t know me personally and have never attended any of my castings, yet they feel bold enough to speculate about my principles, views, whether I’m kind or mean, fair or not. I think anyone who has been publicly humiliated and insulted wouldn’t want to deal with the people who did that.

These days, I don’t argue with directors or producers: if they want to invite a specific actor, I will (except, of course, those who’ve publicly spoken offensively about me). The projects I work on usually don’t involve 24 or 100 episodes where you can fit half of Kyiv. I’ve only had one such series — The Sniffer, where many roles were recast. But when it’s a feature film with, say, only eight main characters, casting becomes very selective: you look for those who fit the roles best. An actor might claim they’re on my “blacklist” without knowing the whole story. If I know someone well, I usually reply to such accusations with: “If there’s material, I’ll call you.” I’m not one to call actors just for show, with no real chance of them getting a role — that only creates the illusion of involvement. Let me clear some myths: I don’t hold grudges over rejections if they’re expressed properly and on time, I don’t end anyone’s career — the world doesn’t revolve around me. There are at least a hundred other casting professionals in Ukraine where an actor, who hasn’t been on my sets, can find work.

I don’t like big castings. When I hear someone is casting 6,000 people for a lead role, I’m horrified — we don’t even have that many actors! Of course, there are exceptions like with Agnieszka Holland’s Mr. Jones (The Price of Truth), where I did a large casting. I was completely on my own, no one was guiding me. I simply did the job and later received feedback explaining why an actor was suitable or not. That casting is still circulating in Poland — people refer to it when looking for Ukrainian actors. The series Wataha greatly benefited from that casting. I also did a big casting for the film The Sacrifice. We were searching for a woman aged 35–40, and it turned out to be a very hard, long, and intense process. The criteria were clear, but it took a while to find the right person. That casting involved about 100 people — probably my limit.

In general, I do targeted castings. Sometimes I propose just one candidate and convince others if further searching yields no better results. Though usually that’s not even necessary — I have a good feel for the market, the tastes of directors and producers. Sometimes amazing things happen: for one well-known project, the team had been searching for the lead for over a year. They came to me for help, and during a 30-minute chat in a café, we found the right actor!

– Ha, that’s funny. First of all, actors often feel they failed an audition when that’s not true at all. Secondly — yes, there are rare cases where I’ll hesitate before giving someone a second chance. But these days, with the amount of content being produced, that distance is narrowing. I love encouraging actors. There was a real case during the Kasym project: an actor came in after a 20-year break from the profession. He had studied under a great master, was distinctive and striking — but on set, he was so awkward that I was mortified. I literally hid under the table! Director Leonid Belozorovich, who is an actor by training, was present. While he worked with the guy, I was convinced I never wanted to see him again. But then I realized he’d just forgotten how to act; he was tense and blocked. So I started giving him small roles, coaching him bit by bit, helping him get used to the camera — and eventually, I stopped feeling ashamed and started feeling proud. The actor gained confidence and now lights up the screen.

I take note when such an actor, who once didn’t do well, later shines in another project. I’ll remember them when I’m doing future castings. When I cast, I go through everything thoroughly. My initial search is broad, then I narrow it down — especially since some directors or producers get overwhelmed if you show them too much.

– None. The worst things that could happen have already happened in my personal life. All work-related fears disappeared a long time ago. I used to be afraid at the start of every project — of not finding someone in time, of being left without money. That fear drove me for a while, but I’ve moved past it. I feel like I’m in the right place, and the profession gives back to me. One producer recently told me she’s never seen anyone in this field as obsessed as I am. I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed — I just love the process of finding what isn’t obvious, creating magic, bringing a story to life. Even if that magic only happens in one out of ten films — when you watch it and remember the journey from production to screen, and realize a small miracle happened — that’s what drives me.

I love this profession because all my personal traits and skills are somehow useful here. You need to know psychology — which I’ve always been interested in — film history, visual arts, acting and directing skills. A good memory, imagination, intuition, communication skills, and the ability to “read” people are crucial. Even my experience in the modeling business has come in handy! For me, film is like a game of glass beads. What I do may seem simple at first glance. But if your intentions are pure — if it’s not just a trade in souls — magic happens.

Sometimes you pull a grandmother from the background, give her a few lines, and suddenly — she’s acting! How can you not love this job? You give someone a chance, a moment of fulfillment. That moment you share on set and later in a dark theater — that’s all we really have. Sometimes, someone has spent a lifetime longing for that fulfillment, and when it happens through you — you feel the beauty of it, the joy. When we were casting the grandmother for Squat32, three women over 80 came, all of whom had lived through the occupation. They spoke about it simply, without self-pity or dramatics. One of them — a woman I pulled from the extras — became a favorite of director Volodymyr Tykhy, who then cast her in all his films. Margarita Kachulova is a unique person — someone who deserves a documentary. Her story is touching and a powerful example of a hard-lived woman’s life. In the end, we chose Rymayida Fedorivna Onadska, a former ballerina, for the role. Sadly, she passed away a year later and never saw the premiere. There are countless such stories — you couldn’t tell them all.

– To get some sleep. I work a lot and don’t know how to say “no,” especially to good projects. I have no time for hobbies. I love working with my hands — knitting, sewing, growing flowers. But I haven’t done that in years. Even when I start something, I drop it quickly. I dream of resting, of traveling somewhere — because, hard to believe, I’ve never once been on a vacation.

And I deeply wish that someday soon, I’ll wake up and know that Ukraine is a recognized part of the international film market, and that our actors are part of the global film community. Like actors from Poland, Germany, Turkey, Japan, or the UK — actors who are international, flexible, and know that whether they’re filming in the UK or Hong Kong, the standards and terms of work will be similar. I want us to have no more iron curtain. We’re too focused on Russia; we’re closed off from the world. Although we do have a few ambitious actors who are trailblazers, forging a new path.

I dream that our actors will star in Netflix, HBO, or for directors like Ron Howard or Yorgos Lanthimos — on an equal footing. I’m working toward that, and I think joining the International Casting Directors Network will help a bit. I’ll have a profile on Spotlight. That gives me the chance to become a bridge for Ukrainian actors, and for casting directors from other countries to find talent here more easily.

I want equal opportunities — for us to follow the path of civilized filmmaking. Around the world, casting is about building deeply individualized ensembles for each project. I want us to have the same bold and crazy ideas you see in the world’s best productions — and not endless “romantic romances” or firefighter and doctor series that are just copies of something foreign, with no trace of our own reality or mentality. I want something to be born here — something that can be expressed and shown.

– I finished music school. I read a lot — everything in the school library, then everything in the village library. I was fascinated by ballet. In my childish, sentimental dreams I thought: “Too bad they didn’t pick me for ballet.” I sang and played the bandura. I was about to enter a music college — almost did — but ran away at the last moment.

– I heard how the other musicians played and thought I could never match that. I also went to a theater club because deep down, I wanted to become an actress. After high school, I planned to study psychology. But the year I was applying, they added math to the entrance exams — and I would never have passed that. So I chose film studies instead. They didn’t accept me right away: they suspected plagiarism, didn’t believe someone off the street could write like that. It was a big blow. I’d decided to apply spontaneously and immediately started doing the entrance tasks. But it doesn’t work like that — you need to be introduced, they need to get to know you. The course was small, so they wanted to admit people they knew and understood. I got in a year later to a specific course leader.

From age 17 to 19, I acted in films without any formal training. That’s why I didn’t want to go to acting school — I arrogantly thought I already had enough experience. I saw how other actors performed around me and I didn’t like it — they overacted and were fake, in my opinion. So I decided not to go to Karpenko-Kary. I acted in four films, one of which I really liked. It was a short film by Anya Benkendorf, who sadly died before finishing it. Another was a black-and-white feature with Fellini-like ambitions. You can’t watch them anywhere — everything is lost, filmed back in the 1990s. It was a cooperative, DIY cinema time. Everything was makeshift. Over time, my passion for acting faded, and cinema in general fell into a long slumber.

Later in life, after doing the “Miss Ukraine” pageant and re-entering the film world, I was scared to be back on camera, felt stiff. But directors often invited me for small roles. I really liked what I did in Marysia Nikitiuk’s When the Trees Fall. It was a proper audition and a collective decision. That role was therapeutic for me. I played my mother, whom I lost at 17. I lived through that experience and released a lot of complex emotions tied to our relationship.