For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt my emotions very deeply. I would always cry during sad or heartwarming parts of movies, even when I didn’t fully know what was happening. When I was a kid, I would get so invested in the films’ plots and characters that I fully convinced myself that they were real — yes, even the animated ones. I was a very imaginative kid.
There’s something so vulnerable about crying during a movie, especially when you’re watching with other people. You feel as though a part of yourself is getting exposed without you saying or doing anything. I’ve stifled many cries while in a theater, or even just watching at home with friends. I often feel embarrassed when that happens, even if everyone else is having the same reaction. I’ve learned that I’m a purist in that way; I prefer to watch movies for the first time by myself. I want to absorb the story and technical aspects fully, without any bias. I know the hard work that it takes to create a film, I don’t want to get distracted for a single moment.
Film, like all art, is a reflection of the society in which it lives — the people who make it and the people who watch it. It’s inherently personal, regardless of what role you fulfill. Of course, it’s personal for the creative team and for actors. But for the crew, it’s personal because of the time they commit to the project – and as someone who’s worked on many different kinds of film and video shoots, I know first-hand how it feels.
A lot of film production is sitting around and waiting – waiting for a lighting issue to get figured out, waiting for the director to finish talking to the actor, waiting for outside noise to settle down. It’s odd because there’s a lot of downtime, but somehow not enough. Depending on how long your day is, you could be absolutely exhausted by the end of it. But when you’re working with kind and skilled people, it makes the whole process a lot better.
I’ve always thought the process of filmmaking is the most beautiful blend of creative energy and technical execution. You have your creative team: the director, writer, cinematographer, production designer, basically anyone who is helping directly with the “vision.” And then there’s the more technical and logical aspect of filmmaking: the electricians, the grips, the sound recordist. All of these people will likely have different mindsets and concerns, but they’re able to come together and make something unique and remarkable.
Just like in life, you have to have a balance of both. You have to learn how to execute the projects you want to do; but first, you have to know the story you want to tell.
I recently directed a short documentary called, “The Pressure of Conformity,” in which I reached out to trans men and transmasc folks, asking them about their experiences growing up and their thoughts on the future of America. My interviewees covered a wide range of ages and labels and, despite the hardships they have faced, their hope remains in these dark times. All of them pointed to the community around them – their friends and family – when asked about where they turn to for support.
The short itself is very modest – just the subjects themselves with some childhood photos. I didn’t need much else. I wanted the audience to pay attention to these real people who are being seriously impacted by our world today. I had one interviewee thank me for letting them talk about their identity and their life, but I thanked them back, because the stories are what make documentary what it is.
So now, the question goes back to you: What has made you into who you are today, for better or for worse? What has your life consisted of? What do you consist of? Because, as simple as it sounds, the most compelling stories you can tell are your own.
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