On its one-year anniversary, Ember Frames Founder Nicholas Franghias talks about his creative journey
The word ember is often used metaphorically, reflecting the “lingering warmth of a memory, an everlasting soul, or a remaining spark of home when themes seem lost.” And it’s the perfect word to describe the work of award-winning filmmaker Nicholas Franghias, founder of Ember Frames, a motion picture company. On the eve of Ember Frames’ one year anniversary, I had the opportunity to sit down with Nicholas to learn more. In this first in a multi-part series, Nicholas shares his beginnings, his journey to storytelling, and the spark that refused to be extinguished.
Greek-born
Born and raised in Athens, as were his parents, Franghias has roots in Constantinople, France, and Armenia. His maternal great grandfather, Matthew Rallis, was a scholar and merchant living in Constantinople. He was a prominent figure within the Greek Orthodox community with close ties to the Ecumenical Patriarchate and the Patriarchate of Jerusalem.
“After the rise of the Neo‑Turks, whose nationalist policies targeted minority communities,” Franghias explained, “his work brought him into conflict with the new authorities, and the family was forced to flee Constantinople in 1913. Their entire estate — including their residence in Phanar and two country houses on the island of Halki — was confiscated.”
Rallis rebuilt his life in Greece. He published the Herald of the East newspaper and later established the Chamber of Commerce on the island of Lesvos, where his brothers lived, as well as on the neighboring island of Chios.
“But that blend of worlds — Paris, Constantinople, Athens — and the history carried by my ancestors gave me a sense of belonging to multiple cultures at once, a wide and layered heritage as a background.”
Inspiration for storytelling
Franghias’ credits his paternal grandmother for shaping his sense of wonder.
“Long before I understood what storytelling was, while my parents worked, she filled my days with language, history, and a quiet dignity that seemed to come from another era.”
Fluent in five languages and “carrying the grace of the Constantinopolitan elite”, she was a gifted storyteller.
“She fired up my imagination through stories. I remember being four years old, sitting at the table as she fed me and narrated Greek mythology with a vividness that felt cinematic.”
Intro to the cinema
Nicholas’ first trip to the cinema left him in awe. As a boy, Nicholas’ father took him and his younger brother to see The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). After, his family visited the cinema, and the experiences were significant in shaping his future path. One Greek film, The Teacher with the Blonde Hair (1969), by stood out.
“The film was shot in widescreen CinemaScope (2.35:1), offering a visual experience unlike anything I had seen. I was seven. My mother had taken us to the early screening so I would still have time to do my homework afterward. But when the film ended, I refused to leave. I wanted to experience that magic again and again.”
He stayed in the theater to watch it several more times. Arriving home late, he didn’t finish his homework. The next day at school, he had to explain to his teacher why his homework was incomplete.
“She then banned me from watching a film in the school’s screening hall with my classmates. So I was locked alone in the classroom. When the teacher and my schoolmates returned, they found me standing proudly in front of the elongated blackboard — which reminded me of the CinemaScope screen format — completing a colored‑chalk drawing of the establishing shot of the village square from The Teacher with the Blonde Hair. I remember my teacher calling her closest colleague from the adjacent classroom, and the two of them just standing there, staring at my drawing.”
Throughout his school years, his teachers insisted that he had a gift, but his father dismissed it. “He said that all kids paint and draw, and in his mind, the arts were a ‘weakness’.” Thus, he refused to recognize or encourage the burgeoning talent of his firstborn. But Nicholas was not deterred.
Musical influence
In 1973, his beloved Aunt Ellie took him to see The Sound of Music (1965) upon its reissue in Greece. Spellbound, the then-11-year-old felt a calling. “My soul was ignited, watching Julie Andrews in the prologue, twirling, singing. It was then that I knew that this what I wanted to devote my life to.”
A week later, his aunt gifted him with the soundtrack. Soon, the soundtracks for My Fair Lady (1964) and Fiddler on the Roof (1971) were added to his collection. “Once I discovered Rodgers and Hammerstein II, I added works of other great songwriting teams.” Listening to a constellation of symphonic film composers attracted him to films with sweeping scores. “And from there, to the full breadth of cinema.”
He studied piano and dreamed of composing show tunes for a great American movie musical. By high school, he was not only drawing. He also composed music, wrote lyrics, took photos, and crafted stories. All under the disapproving eye of his father.
Later he discovered the works of Manos Hatzidakis. And then a book in an American bookstore called The Making of a Musical by Lehman Engel. “I didn’t speak English then, but I translated it myself and studied it.” His self-led education led him to Aristotle’s Poetics. “Learning the principles of three-act structure and it’s sequences was invaluable.”
Building further, he devoured great films from the 60s and 70s, films like Lawrence of Arabia (1962). “Their vast scope and anamorphic grandeur, with their imagery and their scores, excited me beyond musicals.”
Early stories
Laying the foundation for his own craft took considerable time and he neglected his high school homework. Then his grandmother passed away. He found solace in music, painting, writing, and “going to the movies constantly”, which didn’t sit well with his father. Nicholas was young, but he was also patient.
It was his ancient Greek teacher who made a difference. “He recognized and understood my grief. And my father’s lack of support.” He guided Nicholas, helped him catch up in class. Then he encouraged him to write longer stories. The teacher suggested that young Nicholas submit his first two novellas for the Hadjipateras Literary Prize, a distinction the school had introduced decades earlier. Nicholas won the prize in 1980 and 1981. He continued to attend the cinema as much as possible, devouring work after work. And studying.
A landmark moment
Around that time, a classmate allowed him to look through the viewfinder of his 8mm film camera. The classmate urged Nicholas to film a short segment of friends in the schoolyard. “It was a landmark moment. It was the first time I saw the world framed through a movie-camera viewfinder. I caught the filmmaking bug instantly.”
After devastating losses in his family, including the passing of his grandparents and aunts who had encouraged and supported him, and then the loss of the family business, his father relented. “His wish to honor my true vocation, the arts, was monumental. But at that time. Greece did not have an academically accredited film school and studying filmmaking abroad was unthinkable.”
With his father’s blessing, Nicholas took painting classes, in hopes of entering the Polytechnic School of Fine Arts. “I failed the entrance exams. I had no interest in becoming a painter, illustrator, or sculptor.”
First film school and musical production
After much begging, his father enrolled Nicholas in a private three-year film school for writing and directing. But the theory-bound environment and the heavily politicized anti-American sentiment, “left little room for the mainstream, commercially driven English-speaking cinema of the genres I envisioned.” It was the early 80s, when the Greece was still raw from the Junta years. Nicholas wasn’t interested in politics, only filmmaking, but had to tread lightly. “I recall that even clothing carried ideological weight. You had to appear bohemian, casually free. A tie marked you as fascist. Mention Hollywood musicals at your own risk.” But he charged ahead.
Longing for training grounded in Aristotelian three-act storytelling. Nicholas followed the principles he learned in Engel’s book, and wrote the book, music, and lyrics for his first musical, Erinika! (1982), an adaptation of Aristophanes’ comedy Peace. “Its antiwar themes were a critique on warmongers and profiteers, revealing how they had imprisoned Peace itself, and the longing to end the Peloponnesian War.”
Nicholas produced it during the day and attended film classes in the evening. He assembled a troupe of film classmates plus dancers and chorus members. They rehearsed and performed in the auditorium at Lycée Léonin Franco-Hellenique high school, his alma mater. “Their generosity made our young production possible. It was my first direction, at age 19. We staged three spirited, packed house shows.”
After one year, he left school. “It was clear that the culture was moving in the opposite direction of where I was heading.” But he hadn’t given up. On the contrary.
London or bust
That summer, he worked a part-time job and bought a “Magic Bus” ticket to Britain. “I obtained a passport but told no one until the day before my trip.” It didn’t go over well, but he left anyway. Once in London, he threw away the return ticket and set out in search of Mr. Hadjipateras, of the literary prize.
Through the generosity of Hadjipateras, a shipbroker with a deep love of the arts, Nicholas attended film school in Britain. “He funded my studies and rent.” But for his daily expenses, Nicholas took on part-time jobs, at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, the London Palladium, the Vaudeville Theatre in London’s West End. And later, at Thorn EMI Studios and BBC World’s Greek Service. In time, he earned support – moral and financial – from his parents.
During that period, he presented a concept and several compositions to MCA Music in London. “It was a pop/rock musical. Think Cats, but with spirits and a graveyard.” He won a preliminary six-month songwriting contract. They recorded six of his songs, and the company hoped to take the collaboration to the next stage. “They asked that I register as a self-employed composer in Britain rather than an continue under my status as an overseas student. But Greece was not yet part of the European Community and the legal implications and delays were considerable. That was the end of our collaboration.”
Throughout his four years in London, he continued honing his craft. Nicholas worked independently on drawings, poems, photographs, and private musical collections.
Back to Greece and beyond
Then Nicholas returned to Greece for his national military service. During that time, his beloved Aunt Ellie invited him over. She wanted to hear the work he had composed during his time in London. He played them for her on the piano. Impressed, she financed studio recordings. Several of those compositions are part of one of his current projects.
Growing up “in the birthplace of dramatic storytelling” set him on the road to storytelling. But these collective experiences from his youth shaped his work as an artist, composer, screenwriter, and filmmaker. “These are the forces that lit my fire and shaped my imagination and purpose. Many people defined and supported my journey. I was fortunate to receive continued support as I moved to the US, and still today.”
Nicholas’ unorthodox path fueled his passion for his work, and his creativity knows no bounds. Like embers, his drive and inner strength kept him going during hard times. They also symbolize what can grow from small beginnings.
In Part 2, Nicholas reveals more of his early work, including the award-winning Lisippos (1996). Then, in Part 3, we’ll discuss the founding of Ember Frames and his multiple projects currently in development.
For more information about Ember Frames, click here.
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