Film Matters Magazine

Film Matters: Please tell us about your article that is being published in Film Matters.

Florian Zitzelsberger: The article focuses on aspects of domesticity and gender in the film Julie & Julia by director Nora Ephron. I have loved this film ever since its release in 2009, mainly because I am a huge fan of Julia Child’s work and was very happy to see her come to life again on the big screen. Her enthusiasm for cooking became a huge inspiration for people all around the globe, women in particular. I therefore ask in my article: how does the film engage with women? One of the most intriguing aspects, for me, lies in the ways in which the film plays with “traditional” views on gender because Julia Child surely was a woman who knew how to cook—which, however, didn’t reduce her to the status of an exclusively domestic women.

Film Matters: Please tell us about your article that is being published in Film Matters.

Zachary Goldstein: This article utilizes Stephen Gaghin’s film Syriana as a lens through which to analyze larger trends of Islamophobia and Orientalism in Hollywood film.

Love triangles are never easy – especially when there’s a murder involved. The Perfect Murder (Chandirramani, 2019) tells the story of Kabir (Rohan Gandotra), his wife Neha (Samvedna Suwalka), and his lover Carol (Niharica Raizada).  I recently had the pleasure of interviewing the writer, director, producer, and editor of The Perfect Murder, Vikkramm Chandirramani.

Miranda Sprouse: Tell us about your short film, The Perfect Murder.

Vikkramm Chandirramani: The Perfect Murder is an eighteen-minute urban crime drama. It crossed 1.5 million views on YouTube earlier this week. It has been very well received. I was awarded Best Director of a Short Foreign Language Film at the South Europe International Film Festival, held in Valencia, Spain, on May 12. I had attended the festival to receive the award. It was also awarded Best Dramatic Film at the NCCC Film and Animation Festival, held in Buffalo, NY, by the Niagara County Community College. Additionally, it was screened at the Ninth Ridgewood Guild International Film Festival, New Jersey, and the Sixth Firenze FilmCorti Film Festival held in Florence, Italy.

I was in Valencia, Spain, for the South Europe International Film Festival and it was a fantastic experience. There were filmmakers from all over – from the US, Bulgaria, London, Japan, and so many countries. They had an eclectic pick of films and the energy was amazing. What makes it even more delightful is when people who do not understand Hindi or who have never seen a Bollywood film connect to my films. They screened my film twice because some people who had not seen it the first time requested it. The festival’s director Steve Grossmith is a film connoisseur. It was overall a very memorable trip.

Film Matters: Please tell us about your article that is being published in Film Matters.

James Doyle: My article is a study of the precise image of masculinity that is portrayed in Drive (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2011), and of how this image is presented to the audience through the visual design of the film. Drive questions what it means to be a “real” man in a distinctly American context, using the archetype of the outlaw hero to explore the idea of identity, and of masculinity, as something that is never fully occupied, and always subject to changes in meaning. My article focuses on how this idea is explored through the visual design of the film–the cinematography, production design, and costume design.

Halwa (Bhakta, Bajpai, 2018) is the story of Sujata (played by Vee Kumari) as she reaches out to an old friend over social media following the death of her friend’s spouse. I had the chance to interview the co-directors, -editors, and -writers of the film: Nirav Bhakta and Gayatri Bajpai.

Miranda Sprouse: Tell us about your short film, Halwa.

Nirav Bhakta and Gayatri Bajpai: Halwa is the story of an older Indian immigrant woman re-discovering love and her sense of self. On the eve of her wedding anniversary, empty-nester Sujata Chopra attempts to find some joy in her broken marriage, until she learns about the passing of her childhood companion’s spouse over Facebook. Having been disconnected from this woman for over thirty years over a misunderstanding, Sujata finds the courage to reach out to send her condolences. They reconnect, sparking friction when Sujata’s controlling husband, Dr. Chopra, finds out.

Film Matters: Please tell us about your article that is being published in Film Matters.

Matthew Cohen: “Gorehounds: Reconsidering the Study of Splatter Narrativity” attempts to activate a field of splatter studies through the application of narratology to gore films. This is accomplished through an analysis of the “gorehound,” a specialized horror fan that privileges gory special effects over traditional narrative content in splatter cinema.

Sexual assault is an incredibly dark topic that many tend to avoid as much as possible. Others, however, want to bring more awareness. Fairytale (Hershko, 2019) follows the story of Verity (played by Verity East), a young girl who finds herself being treated more as an object than an actual person. She suffers from countless acts of sexual assault and abuse, and the film depicts her journey to find a place where she is safe and at peace. Eli Hershko directed, produced, edited, and wrote the film Fairytale. I was fortunate to have the opportunity to discuss the film with Hershko.

Miranda Sprouse: Tell us about your film, Fairytale.

Eli Hershko: Fairytale is a very dark, unscripted film that deals with sexual assault at its core. This film was shot with no budget ($15k) over the course of eight days in NYC and Long Island with a skeleton crew of twelve people… Now, when I say unscripted, I mean that, usually, traditional films will have a ninety-to-one-hundred-ten-page script that will have a storyline, characters, and all dialogue. The director and the production will follow the script in order to tell the story and, depending on the director, at times, he or she might deviate from the script but mostly the script is the blueprint to the movie. Fairytale did not have a script. I was seduced by the idea of shooting a totally improvised film as a way of telling a story because of the fact that I was hoping to capture a process I noticed taking place in my previous films… What do I mean by that?

I’ll try to explain: for my first feature film – Carl(a) — I wrote about a transgender love story and, in order to write this film, I researched the subject for a whole year before I sat down and wrote the ninety-five-page script. Now, in my opinion, in order for a movie to reach its audience, the viewer has to believe the characters; so, in order to achieve this layer of realism, when I completed the script, I then proceeded to sit down with each and every one of my cast and rewrite their dialogue with them in order to create a well-familiar “skin” for them, so they will be at ease and feel as natural as they can as far as dialogue goes.

Upon completing the re-writes, we spent about a month rehearsing and then went on to shoot the film. I noticed that because I was so rehearsed at times, when we got to set and the scene “DID NOT” work while shooting, which is a common thing really, I was at a loss. So I took that experience with me when I moved to my second feature film. For this one I wrote a one-hundred-ten-page script but did not rehearse at all and told the actors to prepare on their own. When we got to set, I encouraged the actors to get “off book” and try to say my lines in their own words. Now, because I allowed actors to get “off book,” a lot of “HAPPY ACCIDENTS” happened on set, where unexpected moments would develop that were not included in the script and I ended up using them in the final edit and that was the seed that was planted in my head; so when I started thinking of putting together Fairytale, I decided to shoot a feature film composed in its entirety of “HAPPY ACCIDENTS,” and the film will sort of UNFOLD in front of us.

I knew it was a very risky endeavor and that the movie can become very “artistic” in nature and “aloft” to the point it can be drifting off and not make sense; so in order to ground the story up and force it and the audience to a cohesive idea, I decided that the movie, at its core, needed to be a dark and violent movie; so I summon up the courage and decided to do a movie that deals with sexual assault, being that I am a survivor of one myself.

Film Matters: Please tell us about your article that is being published in Film Matters.

Lauren Ekene Nwenwu: My article is on how (black/white) mixed-race identity is represented in contemporary British films as existing outside the limiting, socially constructed paradigms of black and white identity: not as simply a combination of both, but with its own qualities of representational value. This is not to say that mixed-race struggles and experiences are harder or more difficult than black experiences, just that they can be different. It’s about how this concept started to change from its degrading and caricatured beginnings, coming to fruition in British films during the 1990s, using one film in particular – The Girl with Brains in Her Feet – to demonstrate this. Despite the film’s concerns with racial identity, when released in 1997 it was denied classification as a “black film” by its makers, leaving it floating in the ether of films on social struggle in British cinema. The author of the original source material expressed frustration with this decision, and how the subject matter was perhaps too ahead of its time for marketers to understand. It appears that because the film was venturing a look at a non-stereotypical third generation black British experience, it was too confusing for distributors to categorize. The Girl with Brains in Her Feet is a “British identity” film – which are very often typified as being intrinsically white narratives – as well as being a “black film,” sat between a color divide in more ways than one. When released, the film’s misinterpretation led to muted branding, and lack of consideration for a ground-breaking depiction of a neglected, marginalized experience. Consequentially it is almost unknown, and excluded from seminal lists about British films about race, limited to cursory mentions if any, in black British film archives.