film Q&As
Conversations with Ava DuVernay—“A Call to Action”: Organizing Principles of an Activist Cinematic Practice
Author(s): Michael T. Martin
Source: Black Camera , Vol. 6, No. 1 (Fall 2014), pp. 57-91
Published by: Indiana University Press
Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.2979/blackcamera.6.1.57
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Michael T. Martin, “Conversations with Ava DuVernay: ‘A Call to Action’: Organizing Principles of an Activist Cinematic Practice,.” Black Camera: An International Film Journal 6, No. 1 (Fall 2014): 57–91.
Conversations with Ava DuVernay “A Call to Action”: Organizing Principles of an Activist Cinematic Practice
Mi chae l T. MarTi n
I consider my films forward movements, each one on a step to the next one.
—AvA DuvernAy
It’s fair to say that Ava DuVernay is among the vanguard of a new genera-tion of Af ri can Ameri can filmmakers who are the busily undeterred cata- lyst for what may very well be a black film renaissance in the making. This claim is substantiated by an extraordinary and compelling corpus of crea- tive work and, arguably more important, DuVernay’s mission and “call to ac- tion.” The “call” constitutes an actionable strategy intended, as she emphati- cally puts it, “to further and foster the black cinematic image in an organized and consistent way, and to not have to defer and ask permission to traffic our films: to be self- determining.” Like others Af ri can Ameri can filmmakers, in clud ing pioneers of past generations, DuVernay subscribes to the ethos that art serves a social pur- pose, debunks demeaning and normative assumptions about black people, and renders black humanity in all manner of genres and complexity. Situ- ating DuVernay his tori cally extends to the early 1900s, when “race movies” were first exhibited in segregated theaters, and to the 1960s and 1970s, when black independent cinema heralded a new realism in the documentary work of William Greaves, Madeline Anderson, and St. Claire Bourne, among oth- ers. No less important were the largely narrative works of fiction by that mot- ley group of filmmakers- in- training who comprised the L.A. School (aka L.A. Rebellion), in clud ing Charles Burnett, Julie Dash, Billy Woodberry, and Haile Gerima, or the filmic experiments by prominent fig ures in the Black Arts Movement such as Larry Neal and Amiri Baraka. In her or his own way, each filmmaker counseled a social advocacy role for film on behalf of black self- empowerment. DuVernay continues in this advocacy, practicing the on- going precept and tradition in the long history and struggle for black repre- sentation (fig. 1).
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Two core themes distinguish her creative work. First, like Julie Dash, Du- Vernay’s sustained interrogation engages with black women’s agency and sub- jectivity. Second, she foregrounds the family as site and source of resilience, memory, cultural transmission, generational continuity and dissonance, and as purveyor of all things affirming of black identity. In this way her work es- pecially resonates with L.A. filmmakers Dash (Four Women, 1975; Daugh ters of the Dust, 1992), Burnett (Several Friends, 1969; Killer of Sheep, 1977; My Brother’s Wedding, 1983; To Sleep with Anger, 1990), Woodberry (Bless Their Little Hearts, 1984) and, in less schematic and didactical terms, Gerima (Bush Mama, 1975). A former film publicist and marketer, DuVernay’s filmography is com- pelling and varied. Her credits include This Is the Life (2008), a feature-length documentary on hip- hop that won audience awards at the ReelWorld Film Festival in Toronto, the Los Angeles Pan-African Film Festival, the Holly- wood Black Film Festival, and the Langston Hughes African American Film Festival in Seattle. She wrote, produced, and directed her first narrative fea- ture, I Will Follow, in 2010. And in 2012, she won Best Director Award at Sundance for Middle of Nowhere—in doing so becoming the first Af ri can Ameri can woman to win this award. She also won the African American Film
Figure 1. Ava DuVernay. Courtesy of Brigitte Lacombe.
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M i c h a e l T . M a r t i n / C o n v e r s a t i o n s w i t h A v a D u V e r n a y 59
Critics Association Best Screenplay in both 2011 and 2012, as well as both the Independent Spirit John Cassavetes Award and Tri beca Film Institute’s Affinity Award in 2013. She has also directed and produced network docu- mentaries for ESPN, BET, and TVOne, as well as corporate projects in 2013 for Prada (The Door) and Fashion Fair (Say Yes). At this stage of her meteoric rise and achievement, DuVernay unequivo- cally asserts, “I’m concerned with my own house…I’m going to carve out an- other place. That’s what I’m all about—moving forward.” Indeed, one such formation of her strategy for self- empowerment is founding the collective AFFRM (African- Ameri can Film Festival Releasing Movement) in 2011. This extended conversation comprises two parts and occurred during DuVernay’s visit to Indiana University in fall 2013.1 In Part One, she enun- ciates six organizing principles of her practice, the raison d’être for and mis- sion of her production company Forward Movement, and distribution col- lective, AFFRM. In terms of engaging with filmmaking as it is complicated by race and by marginalization within the industry, these six principles ad- dress the practicalities of “doing it on our own” and include
• establishing the storyline as the first order of business; • knowing something about potential funders before soliciting sup-
port for your project; • working with what you have, rather than what you want; • engaging with cinematic aesthetics, no matter the filmmaking con-
text, as a means of signifying something personally and/or po liti- cally meaningful;
• avoiding working in isolation; and • being self- determining.
In Part Two, DuVernay discusses I Will Follow and Middle of Nowhere (fig. 2). Both films conjure the complexity of black life and family dynamics and gesture towards the circumstance of grief and agential authority from the vantage of Af ri can Ameri can women protagonists.
•
Part One: Against the Odds
Interview with Ava DuVernay by Michael T. Martin, as part of the Jorgensen Guest Filmmaker Lecture Series at Indiana University Cinema, on Sep tem ber 20, 2013.
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Michael T. Martin (MTM): What occasioned your decision to make movies? Ava DuVernay (AD): I can’t remember exactly the moment when I decided to write screenplays. Through publicity work, my proximity to filmmakers sparked awareness that normal people could direct films, because until then it was magic.
MTM: By “normal people” you mean . . . AD: People like me, black folk, women. I never thought that I could actually make a film. I had no context for that until I was on sets working as a publi- cist, a job I pursued so that I could be near to film and filmmakers, and trav- eling the world with them. I realized then that, if this guy can make a film, I could probably make one, too.
MTM: Perhaps even better? AD: Hey, why not? Let’s try! These are moments when I wish I could remem- ber the day that I said, “I’m going to write a screenplay” because it’s amaz- ing that in the midst of a successful career doing something else, you would have a cockamamie idea to go write a screenplay. It might not be as amazing in Los Angeles because everyone is writing a screenplay [laughter].
MTM: How do you start? AD: You got to get the story down first [first principle].
MTM: You know that up front? AD: Yes, absolutely. A lot of times it’s starting with images that I see in my head. For the film I’m now working on, Selma, I’m seeing things but don’t know what they are. Things that people say to each other are popping into my head, like full scenes, lighting, all of that. For me [the question] is how to put that into a screenplay and fig ure out how it fits. Maybe it’s not going to be there. Maybe it leads to something else?
MTM: Is your cameraperson giving you the visual possibilities? AD: Yes. I work closely with the cinematographer and usually prep before we get there. I have a clear idea of what I’m doing when I walk into a space. But a lot of things are created in the moment, especially in low- budget films, which are what I basically make. I may not know what the space is going to be until that day. There’s a scene in Middle of Nowhere that I haven’t watched in almost a year where the two sisters, Ruby and Rosie, are in a kind of ham- burger stand with the nephew and her husband’s ex [Gina] comes in. We were supposed to shoot it in this really iconic place in South Central called Earl’s Hotdogs. Everybody knows Earl’s in the hood. When we got there, we were told “No, you can’t shoot here today.” “What? I’ve got a crew!” So, my
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producers Paul [Garnes] and Howard [Barish] and I went across the street and gave this guy a couple hundred bucks and he shut down his place for us to shoot. Bradford Young, the cinematographer, and I had fifteen minutes to fig ure out how to do the scene. When you’re working in the indie film space, you have to adapt. So, sometimes I plan it out with the cinematographer, and sometimes it’s on the fly.
MTM: Does another space alter the dialogue as well as the outcome? AD: Yes, absolutely, although preparation is the safety net.
MTM: Backup? AD: Yes, it’s a foundation and net. If I have a net beneath me, which is the preparation, then I might want to do a flip in the air because I know I’m go- ing to land in that net.
MTM: Do you of en “flip in the air”? AD: Yes, in both features, but because you know that you’re going to land on what’s been prepared and predetermined.
MTM: That’s smart. AD: If you don’t have it, then you’re just jumping and you’ll be less willing to take a risk. So, yes, I find that being prepared helps me to be more free writ- ing. Having an outline of where I know my beats are, I might deviate from it. But if all else fails and I can’t work it out, I can go straight to what I’ve de- termined before, same on the set with actors.
MTM: You’ve learned that as a publicist, where everything has to be on step? AD: I never thought about that, but definitely the PR background helps. The publicist is the net. We make sure the i’s are dotted and t’s crossed. So, I prob- ably carry some of that, yes.
MTM: In an interview with The Root, you said, “I’m really making films on in stinct.” 2 What do you mean by that? AD: Well, I’m not formally trained, because I didn’t go to film school. Every- thing I’m doing feels like it is the right thing to do. I’ve just realized that I’m carrying the practices and habits of my PR life that are instinctual because I don’t know how it should be done otherwise.
MTM: Is that a handicap or advantage? AD: I saw it as a handicap until I started making films and talked to other filmmakers. There are some things that just are closer to the way that it’s nor-
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mally done than I thought, and just because it’s always done that way doesn’t mean that it’s the right way to do it.
MTM: You make your own way? AD: Yes. It’s falling in line with what most filmmakers do. They find their own way, what works for them.
MTM: You’re also a woman, an Af ri can Ameri can woman, in an industry domi nated by men—primarily white men. How do you navigate this terrain? AD: There was a time when I was knocking on doors and concerned with be- ing recognized in dominant culture. I’ve found a space where the terrain is different, where I’m embraced by people like me, and where I’m building new ways of doing things, as opposed to trying to insert myself in a place that might not be welcoming. So, I’m concerned with my own house. If people want to visit from other houses, that’s great. It was something about turning my back on those desires and concentrating on what was in front of me and what was really beautiful, and organic within my own community and cul- ture that started to ignite interest from the outside in.
MTM: Any stories to tell when you knocked on those doors? AD: I can tell you on what doors not to knock. I was a publicist for many years. I had an agency—the DuVernay Agency—specializing in marketing, publicity, studio product, TV, film.3 I would find myself sitting in rooms lis- tening to all kinds of bizarre things about what black people do, and who we are, and how to reach us. I’d be like, “Wow, this is crazy.” When I started, I was very clear that either my films were going to end up with people in a room like that, or they would not be let into those rooms at all. Either way wasn’t good. So, I had to fig ure out, even before making them, what would be the fate of my films. And that’s what got me looking, as a black woman, to our own community. I started filmmaking from that place. I never took my films, reels under my arm, knocking on unwelcoming doors. And it was only because I had the knowledge of a publicist that I knew what that place was like. And that’s a unique experience because most new filmmakers have never been in those rooms listening to those conversations. So, there’s a sense of hope that your films are going to transcend preconceived notions of black people, or women, or what this film’s going to be, or should be. And hav- ing been in those rooms, I said, “I’m not going to go that route, I’m going to carve out another place”.
MTM: That’s foundational to your working practice that we all have something to learn by: before you go knocking on the door, know who’s there [second principle].
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M i c h a e l T . M a r t i n / C o n v e r s a t i o n s w i t h A v a D u V e r n a y 63
AD: Yes, know what’s on the other side for sure.
MTM: Is there a method to your film practice?
AD: This speaks to an idea I have about filmmaking: the film is not done when you’ve finished production and post- production. A film is done when it’s presented to an audience. If it’s not a new way of thinking, it’s a more pro- gressive or modern way of thinking about filmmaking in 2013. With tradi- tional models collapsing, we have to really focus on the presentation and sur- vival of our films. For so long, as film students and filmmakers, you’re taught to focus on the cinematography, production design, and working with your actors. Very rarely are we taught and given tools to help our films survive to meet an audience, which is what makes whatever you’ve shot and whatever story you’re telling a film. It has to be seen. And that’s a big problem, par- ticularly for filmmakers of color and women.
MTM: Give us an example: How did you put together your first feature, I Will Follow—and now hear this, everyone in the audience—for $50,000?
AD: I did my first documentary feature for about twelve grand; my first nar- rative feature, fifty grand. It’s hard for some people to wrap their mind around this. You can live a whole year on fifty grand. That’s a lot of money. But it’s really like parking fees for one day on Jurassic Park. I had $50,000 in my bank account that I was saving to buy a house and decided instead to buy a film. I had to back into that number. I created a film and wrote a script that I could make for that amount. And that’s how I do a lot of things. It’s really predi- cated on what I have. I think a lot of emerging filmmakers focus on what they don’t have: “I need this money. I need this person. I need this. I need that.” On the other hand, I consider what I have. Like, “I have access to this camera. I have this much money. We can do it with what we have.” That goes into my business mantra and starting a film, as opposed to “I need press, I need that money, I need that contract, I need that award.” Well, I have access to black film festivals around the country. I have some know- how to market films. I have a little bit of money to invest. I have friends who have made great films. These are the things I have. What can we do with that? And that’s the place I work from, whether it’s filmmaking or film distribution. From a place of what I possess and how to move forward within that more positive space as opposed to one where you start to reek of desperation.4
MTM: And immobilizing despair?
AD: It’s easy to get into a certain depression when you’re an artist and you feel like you can’t move because you don’t have what you need.
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Figure 2. Ava DuVernay on the set of the Sundance Award–winning Middle of Nowhere. Courtesy of @AFFRM.
Figure 3. Gabrielle Union in The Door for Prada. Courtesy of Brigitte Lacombe.
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MTM: Would be filmmakers in the audience, here’s another fundamental orga nizing principle: work with what you have [third principle]. This transitions nicely to your production company, Forward Movement. I like the sound of it. AD: I do, too. Thank you.
MTM: When did you create it? Why? And how does it work? AD: Most filmmakers have a production company. Some work for hire. But I wanted to have a place for my productions.5 And that’s what I’m all about— moving forward. I’m always trying to move it ahead and keep creative energy around me. And so, Forward Movement was the name I gave the production company. I consider my films forward movements, each one on a step to the next one. And, yes, it works with a bunch of ragtag people who love film and don’t have money. And we find what we need to make movies. It really is that. So, when an opportunity comes along and Prada says, “We like what you’re doing with peanuts. Why don’t we give you a few more chips. What can you make?” I’m not in a place where I can say no because I want to tell stories. I want to make films. And, if I can carve out my own vision, my own story from a corporate request—a great brand but not one that’s particularly as- sociated with black women—if I can bring some luxury and some beauty to the black female cinematic image through this job, I’m going to find a way to do that. I’ve tried to do that with some of the corporate work. When women saw The Door online, which is where it was debuted, it was just sisters watch- ing, saying, “Wow, we’re beautiful! And look at our skin tones, look at how we’re supporting each other and, wow, look at that bag, those shoes! Dang, she looks good” (fig. 3). It just makes you feel good and it didn’t feel like a commercial. And I loved that the point of the story got across. That was col- laboration between Prada and Forward Movement. The Door also recently played at the Venice Film Festival. So, Forward Movement is really my as- sertion of my narrative point of view and the stories that I want to tell within any context, whether I’m working for ESPN on a documentary about sports,6 to fashion film,7 to my own work. It’s the way that I have my say.
MTM: It struck me watching The Door that, however much a corporate brand, you insinuated your own story in the film; a story with social purpose affirming sister hood and the beauty of the black women [fourth principle]. And that’s to be com mended because it’s rare for a filmmaker, however principled, not to defer to such base commercial interests. AD: Thank you.
MTM: Ms. Prada hosted you when The Door was shown at the Venice Film Festival.
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AD: Yes, there was a fabulous party there on the Grand Canal in honor of the collection of films she commissioned by women filmmakers around the world. Two of us were present, and it was an extraordinary experience. Last summer I was invited to Skywalker Ranch, George Lucas’s property in north- ern California. I saw these rolling hills and asked the shuttle driver, “Is this all Skywalker Ranch?” [He replied,] “Yes, for as far as you can see.” Film made it possible for me to go and share stories with other filmmakers there. Film moves me around the world. Film is what’s brought us together and with such an eclectic audience of races, cultures, and ages here this evening. And it’s the power of films that’s palpable and meaningful for me, and that’s why we congregate around these images.
MTM: Is there something to be learned about Forward Movement that distinguishes it from other production companies? AD: I think it’s different because it’s headed by a black woman. There are oth- ers, but not a lot though. I’d love to see more black women-led production companies. But, yes, when you’re moving lights and putting lenses on cam- eras, production is production. So, I don’t think the way we do it is differ- ent except that the director, the head of company, likes to put lipstick on in the morning. Our distribution company AFFRM, however, is very different.
MTM: You’re known in independent film circles as “a maverick businesswoman.” 8 I assume they’re referring to the Af ri can Ameri can Film Releasing Movement. What is this thing called AFFRM? AD: It’s an idea. I didn’t want to make a film about the interior lives of black people and not know where it was going to land. That just doesn’t make sense for someone who had been in business as a publicist. I had to bridge the gap between what happens when I make a film and how does it actu- ally reach an audience. I know that behind those “doors” I referred to ear- lier they won’t put a lot of value in the film until I show them value, and they may not understand it. It’s hard to embrace something that you don’t under- stand. So, I had to fig ure out how to bridge the gap. And I had these relation- ships with black film festivals around the country. While they’re not the ones that you hear about in the papers—Sundance, Toronto, or Tribeca—they’re beautiful. One of my favorites is the BlackStar Film Festival in Philadelphia. Another is the Langston Hughes Af ri can Ameri can Film Festival in Seattle, led by these dynamic sisters who have a background in theater and the arts and come together every year to show films from around the country. The UrbanWorld Film Festival in New York is another that was started by a for- mer black film executive. And in Philadelphia, there’s a brother named Mike Dennis, a filmmaker who wanted to carve out a place for black film there, so he started Reelblack.
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All these amazing people, who I knew separately, but who didn’t know each other, and whose concerns were similar to mine as an aspiring film- maker, showing their films that then don’t go anywhere. And so the idea was, if we could band together and work as one unit under one umbrella, calling ourselves AFFRM, we could be stronger than we are in dividually. Our idea was to release films in these cities at the same time, or around the same time, with national publicity and marketing, which I would do from L.A. Instead of individually traveling to these cities, they would be released under one entity and name: AFFRM. By dissecting what distribution is and how a studio does it—without becoming a studio—and without money, we created a distribution company. And we have elbow grease. We have connec- tions. All of these festivals have mailing lists of people in their city who love film. Who love black film and who’ve come and bought tickets. So what if we can’t buy TV ads? We know exactly how to reach the audiences in Phila- delphia through their inbox, phone, what have you. What we don’t have is billboards, but we have volunteers we call “mavericks” that instead of a bill- board walk up to you and say, “Michael, there’s a great film playing here. I’ll come pick you up at this time because we’re going and make sure that you have three people with you.” These are the kinds of things that we do, and that’s how we’re distributing our films without money. The films are there, right! Many are worthy of being seen. It’s just how to get them to audiences, and AFFRM is a collaboration among people interested in the same thing who hold hands and make it happen.9
MTM: For the audience and student filmmakers among us, another organizing principle: Don’t work in isolation [fifth principle]. Link yourself to an infrastruc ture or apparatus that has shared common interests and work through that net work to distribute your films.
AD: Good one.
MTM: You’ve referred to AFFRM, and I’m going to quote you, “not so much a busi ness as a call to action.” 10 Are you on a crusade of sorts?
AD: Yes, I guess so. It should be a business. I’ve had conversations with wiser people about making sure that our films have a strong business founda- tion, which is something I need to focus on more. But the driving force of the organization is activist, and I’m trying to negotiate that—the mis- sion—with the business. So yes, we are by definition on a mission to fur- ther and foster the black cinematic image in an organized and consistent way, and to not have to defer and ask permission to traffic our films: to be self determining [sixth principle]. Yes, there’s definitely an activist spirit in the organization.11
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MTM: What are your expectations for AFFRM, say, five, ten years from now? AD: I’d like for it to be self- sustaining and have a foundation that can last. That’s my real concern. It’s like a parent concerned for their child when they’re not around, giving it everything you can while you can, and then, at some point, it’s going to outgrow you. And so I’m just trying to imbue AFFRM with a “founder’s imprint.” By giving it all I can now, whether it’s my own personal funds, passion, curation, ideas, time, along with many others who are doing the same thing. Hopefully, in five years we will have a solid enough business foundation to ensure that AFFRM will be around for a while and that it will match our philosophical mission.
MTM: You describe in the New York Times piece last year, and it relates to what you’re saying regarding the financing of indie films, that, and I’m quoting here, “it’s not about knocking on closed doors; it’s about building our own house and having our own door.”12 Is building that house sustainable? AD: Yes. I know we’re in the early stages, but at some point, the idea has ar- chitecture and becomes a structure. Right now, we’re in the foundational stage. By next year, hopefully we will have one wall built, and then another, followed by a roof, porch, and whatever else is needed. So many organiza- tions, especially organizations in marginalized communities, never make it beyond the idea or foundation stage to become a structure with walls that can stand on its own. And so, we’re hoping that we can keep it going long enough to create that structure so everyone can come inside, have a seat, and relax. I look at institutions like the Sundance Institute and how it started and now you can’t imagine it not being there. I hope AFFRM gets to that point.13
MTM: In 2011, you wrote a compelling piece in The Huffington Post titled, “Watch the Throne: A Militant Masterpiece.”14
AD: Oh my god! Does the audience know what Watch the Throne is? It’s a rap album by my friend Jay- Z. Yes, some people are horrified, but I like hip- hop. There’s someone back there [in the audience] giving me the Jay- Z fist. Yes!
MTM: Here’s what you said: “Who speaks of LOVE OF BLACKNESS with a swag ger that feels wonderfully dangerous. A swagger that feels militantly proud. This is something that has fallen out of favor among those truly in the spotlight. To be loud and proud about one’s Blackness. To be bold and brash with it. Is that so wrong? Feels that way sometimes. But not on Watch the Throne.” Are you suggesting that with celebrity militancy declines? AD: Yes, I think so. Yet, Mr. [Harry] Belafonte and others in the midst of suc- cess, power, pleasure, and luxury have retained the urgency of and associa-
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tion with community needs. But it’s hard. I imagine it’s hard when you’re in rooms where you’re just Harry, or Jay- Z, or Magic, or just Jamie or Denzel and not black. Do you know what I mean? Your identity is more your celeb- rity than your race, LGBT, or whatever the other is. I think that as you gain celebrity you move further and further away from the things that might have you questioning and demanding.
MTM: Does it become a condition for further advancement to mute your politics and social concerns? AD: Yes, I think it does. In some ways, if you’re quiet and you make it more comfortable for the people around you, then it’s easier to be accepted and to move forward. This is not just a celebrity issue. It’s faced in academia, in cor- porate America, in all places where any kind of disruption of the status quo becomes dangerous to advancement. But if we’re talking about celebrities— which I am not and don’t consider myself to be—I think in some ways being that rabble-rouser serves their persona to a certain point. Don’t take it too far. Don’t take it too serious. Now that I’m working on Selma, I’m doing re- search on the civil rights movement and voting rights campaign, and consid- ering how King, who a year after the “I Have a Dream” speech was courted by the White House and offered ambassadorships and who had just won the Nobel Prize, decided to go to Selma and face violence for a principle. While we still have such examples, they are much harder to find now. Speaking for myself, if I find myself in a studio or fancy room, I’ll bring up those issues because I’m in it. I’m not removed from it. While I can’t say what will hap- pen, I hope I can be like Mr. Harry Belafonte and others who stay grounded in what really matters while being catered to.
MTM: With your success, is there vantage for other Af ri can Ameri can women filmmakers? AD: Yes, I hope so. My success is relative to white male counterparts who at Sundance and other festivals got better offers. Regardless, I felt happy being there, not thinking of what I don’t have. In the real landscape of the industry, to say that I’m successful would be a bit of an overstatement. But for black women, women interested in making films, making art, I think anyone that’s doing it is a success story. And for anyone—me—to be able to live off of my work, pay my mortgage and not have checks bounce, that’s success to me. And I will be able to somehow make another film, and what I want to make, because my hands are not tied behind my back. And, my work is seen in the- aters. I have to put them out myself, right. It’s hard and you get exhausted. But just to be able to continue to make films is success for me personally and may inspire others. So, if you’re looking to be an artist, sustain your craft, and be consistent with work, I think I’m doing okay in that regard.15
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MTM: Next stop, Scandal,16 followed by Selma.17 While you’ve worked expertly to render nuanced portrayals of black women in tight interiors and even tighter so cial spaces, Selma is his tori cal and on a much larger scale. AD: Yes. This is a project I never thought about or would have gone after. I thought I knew everything about the subject until I drilled down and started thinking about how I would approach it. You know Martin Luther King, Jr. was a bad- ass guy. He was great, nonviolent. He’s got a statue and a holiday. What else do we need to know? That’s such a homogenized view of this radical activist who was a strategist able to construct campaigns and create coalitions with a bunch of people with different ideas about how to reach goals under the threat of violence and loss of life. It’s incredible. The story needs to be told and, once people know even a little bit of the truth, they will be riveted as I am. So my hope is I can get it done and tell the story. And we don’t have to construct characters because the truth is jaw- dropping enough. And if I can just stay true to that, I think it will be okay.18
MTM: The budget? AD: Around $20 million. It will be the first major feature film in theaters that has anything to do with King’s essential character. It’s a low budget to make a film of this stature, but we take what we get and we make the best we can.
MTM: Both projects, Scandal and Selma, would scare the hell out of me, but I’m not Ava DuVernay.
•
Part Two: Beating the Odds
Continuing the conversation at the Black Film Center/Archive at Indiana Uni versity, Sep tem ber 21, 2013, DuVernay discussed her two feature films. I Will Follow takes place during a day in the life of Maye (Salli Richardson Whitfield) as she packs up the family home following the death of her aunt, Amanda ( Beverly Todd). Maye encounters objects as well as people from her past, trig gering memories and emotions that help her move forward. Middle of No- where centers on Ruby (Emayatzy Corinealdi) and her struggle to come to emotional terms with the incarceration of her husband Derek (Omari Hard wick). The film contemplates the challenges of maintaining a relationship and staying true to oneself.
MTM: In this continuing conversation, I would like for us to engage with your fea tures I Will Follow and Middle of Nowhere—both extraordinary films that merit
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distribution. Certainly, their availability on Netflix, via on demand Internet, will make them accessible to audiences worldwide. AD: Absolutely.
MTM: I Will Follow is autobiographical.
AD: Yes. I was a caregiver for my aunt, Denise Sexton, in the last year and a half of her life. She was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. She was a fighter and was active in her treatment to the end, which was different than the character in the film who wants to fight in a different way.
MTM: But her daughter Fran doesn’t understand that, while Maye knows her aunt wants to go out in her own way.
AD: Right. It’s really about imposing our will on other people and how in these vulnerable moments it might be best to let them do what they want to do.
MTM: But before we go there, you were talking about the real life upon which the film is based.
AD: Yes. The core of it is the time I spent with my aunt during the last year or so of her life. I don’t think I was articulate enough then to be able or ready to make a film about that period and honor caring for her. So, I distilled it down to one day shortly after her death—a transition period where Maye has to move on. And that personally was really hard for me. I wanted to make a first film and had only $50,000. I knew that the way to do that was to make it in one location, thinking of the one place that meant a lot to me. It was really my mother who helped me remember the house. I wasn’t brave enough to tell everything that happened, but I started to just think about that day and articulate it all in that house.
MTM: Did your approach or stance as director change because you were invested personally in the story?
AD: It was the first personal film I made, so I can’t compare it to anything else. When I was making I Will Follow, I was not thinking about my Aunt Denise. I couldn’t. I was so stressed out with the day in front of me. Maybe there was one occasion on set I had a moment. In those fifteen days shooting, and the prep for it, and the post, I wasn’t thinking of it as a separate story. I had written it with a full heart. But when I was actually making it . . .
MTM: You distanced yourself ? AD: I had to. There’s no way to make it in that emotional place. It really was about these characters and I had purposefully changed a lot of things in the
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film so it wasn’t too close. A lot of the feelings are right. A lot of the relation- ships and the things that happened are certainly true.
MTM: Are you there in relationship to your aunt more now than when you made the film? AD: I see us in there. One of the things is our mutual love of U2.
MTM: U2, the musical group? AD: Yes. I’d like it to be noted that Michael Martin said U2 is some kind of “musical group.”
MTM: How ignorant I am. [laughter] AD: They’re just the biggest band in the world. But yes, some of that stuff is in there and we’re definitely there in the script and film. But during the mak- ing of I Will Follow I had to step back and get some distance and that’s why you have a script.
MTM: Was casting Salli Richardson Whitfield as Maye a difficult decision? AD: Yes, but not because I was thinking this person was playing me. It was difficult because this was my first film. It was my own money and I had to get this right. Salli was definitely not the obvious choice, but in the end she was the perfect choice.
MTM: “Perfect choice”? AD: Not only for the performance she gave, which I think is lovely. She’s not an overly emotional person, which, otherwise, may have made the piece whiny. She has strength about her. But even more than the performance, it was her presence on set and what she gave to me by way of experience mak- ing my first film. I didn’t know her before the film. She was the most gra- cious, lovely, and giving sister on set.
MTM: Was she the choice from audition? AD: No, from a meeting that we had. The experience of making the film was just as important to me as the film itself. That’s a year of my life. I don’t want to be sharing that year with people that I don’t like and that I don’t feel safe with, and who don’t feel safe with me. When I think about what Salli brought to it, her patience, graciousness, and dealing with the very low budget—these were gifts she gave me.
MTM: Financial losses, beginning with you?
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AD: Everyone did. They gave their time and talent, but got the experience back. It really starts with the director and the person who’s number one on the call sheet, and that was Salli. I get emotional thinking about it because even more than the film itself, it was she who gave me the confidence to make films. The confidence to say that the way I do it may not be the way that everyone else does it: “I may not have as much money, but this is a valid experience and this is okay that you’re doing it like this. And it’s okay that we don’t have a trailer, that our craft services aren’t really good and that we’re eat- ing Taco Bell. It’s okay because we’re making art and we’re together.” So yes, I think it comes out in the film and she’s become a great friend.
MTM: This back story of sisterhood is moving and instructive. I was at first un certain of Maye’s character because of Ms. Richardson’s understated presence and beauty. Would these attributes nullify the gravity of her role? No doubt you were aware of this possibility and relied on the fact she is such an accomplished actor. Did you work to mitigate the distraction—“Yes folks, she’s a fine looking woman but let’s keep to the story”?
AD: I disagree. I did not do anything to make her less beautiful. I treated her like I would any other actor. I think a lot of times people highlight the beauty by super close- ups, special light, all of that. I shot her as I shot the other ac- tors. And I think the challenge with Salli, and a lot of our sisters—look at Halle [Berry]—explains why they always want to mess themselves up and make themselves look ugly, so that they can just act. I think Salli doesn’t play it up, and that’s the difference. It’s there. I think a lot of times you see women playing up to beauty and it distracts from char- acter. She’s not playing it down. She’s just being in her skin in that moment. So she’s catering, leaning into the beauty, as opposed to having to have a pony- tail and no makeup. That could easily have been done. Her hair is done. She has makeup. She has on designer jeans. It just wasn’t, “Let’s make you down- trodden to focus on the script.” It was, “We’re not going to put a beauty light on you and you’re not going to be wearing lipstick through the whole thing. And so, the challenge is how you look, sis.” Do you know what I mean?
MTM: I do. AD: And, “You’re the lead in the story. You got to live with it. You’re drop- dead gorgeous.”
MTM: Had you considered closing the film afer the call to [Maye’s lover] Evan? AD: [chuckle] He likes to end my movies in different ways. I really resist the idea that her ending is locked in a frame or in the context of a conversation with Evan because that’s not what the film is about. It was about a woman
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who was trying to move on from this space. She had a boyfriend. She had a lover. She has a cousin. She has a nephew. She has these memories. She was leaving much more than him, who was just one part of the story.
MTM: Maye speaks to us through Evan, saying, “Listen, I’m going to get sick, I’m going to vomit on the ground. . . . Are you going to be there, are you going to under stand, are you going to count for me?” AD: Right.
MTM: Is Maye freed the moment she realizes that she’s alone and that she can’t ex pect Evan, or any other man, to be there at the end? AD: Right.
MTM: There are no romantic illusions lef for her. Evan says “I fucked up” and she walks out the door knowing that she can never trust him. AD: Yes, and I’ve not heard a lot of people telling me new places to end the film, so this is new. I don’t hear it as criticism. [laughter] No, it’s something to think about. Both films end with women kind of saying where they are. So Maye’s doing it through the YouTube video and by evoking the memory of Amanda driving and the anecdote about what makeup can do for you, which ties into what Salli does for a living and her choices as she moves on. You’re hearing Salli tell you where she is now. Ruby does it through a letter to Derek. And so in that way, the two films are in conversation, these women self- narrating and self- determining their lives.
MTM: Why the title, I Will Follow? AD: “I Will Follow” is a famous U2 song. But a lot of people don’t know that it’s about the death of the lead singer’s father. It’s one of their early songs and ties into the theme of the film.
MTM: Opening scene: two women, we don’t know what the connection is except that they’re of different generations and that their gestures appear affectionate (fig. 4). Amanda is putting herself together. The camera renders their differences as it suggests mutual and abiding love. Is Maye the link between two generations, Amanda and Raven’s [Maye’s nephew] generation? Is she the bridge between two cultural moments? Maye’s encyclopedic about that past moment while Raven is fixed in the present unaware of the connection and continuum between these two moments. Is Maye educating us as she passes on her aunt’s cultural legacy? AD: Absolutely. We’re charged with being the custodians of the generation that came before us, especially the ones that you remember and that you
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had proximity to. And I know that it’s only me who’s going to tell my niece who my aunt was, apart from pictures and anecdotes of and about Amanda. So, I think Maye does serve that purpose in the film. And, although we of- ten think young folks don’t care, Raven is of a generation that wants to know about the past. He’s inquisitive. I recall being that way. So, I wanted to make him a kid who’s texting and doing all of that, but he’s also wondering and putting things together.
MTM: By recovering memories of Amanda, is Maye recuperating the cultural con text of that period? AD: Yes, absolutely.
MTM: Is I Will Follow also complicated by Fran, Amanda’s daughter? Her jeal ousy, guilt, and competition with Maye, that was parked in the closet now revealed in the afermath of Amanda’s death? AD: Right.
MTM: Is everyone complicit in Amanda’s story as Ruby is in Middle of Nowhere? AD: Yes.
MTM: So, how do we get through and past this? AD: Well, I mean that’s great. These aren’t simple and straightforward cause- and- effect relationships. The question of “how do we get through this?” is about a black family.
MTM: But what we want is to keep it simple and blame someone. AD: That’s right. Last night, at the end of screening Middle of Nowhere, a woman in the audience said, “What happened this? What happened that?” The goal was to present complexity within the black family dynamic. Yes, you have the big love story. You have in I Will Follow grief, and in Middle of Nowhere, separation through incarceration followed by separation through grief. These are the big social issues, but at the core of each film is the black family. And they’re families of predominantly women.
MTM: I got that. Are you also saying, “Look, family stuff isn’t simple.” That we must be aware that stuff goes on and may never get resolved and we’re going to have to live with it and move on. And that stuff doesn’t always get settled as it does in the movies? AD: Right.
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MTM: Is that your project? AD: That’s part of the project. We’re not making films in Hollywood so we can do what we want. And, it speaks to the real mission to portray nuanced black family life. To make Maye the niece and not daughter. To speak to the complex ways black families function where your mother might not be your biological mother, and someone who you think of your child might not be your biological child.
MTM: And your uncle may be the lover of . . . AD: Exactly, and you go along with it. . . .
MTM: Your so called uncle. AD: Right, exactly. [laughter] Yes, your aunties and that’s my third cousin. All of that. To be able to speak to that, complicate it, and present it to black audiences. And in no Q&A I’ve done with a black audience was there ever a question of why did the niece live with the aunt. Because we know why someone’s living in someone’s house, and why everybody’s with Big Mama, right? And so, we start from that place of understanding of how black fami- lies are constructed in ways that may be different. I’m thinking about the re- lationship between Ruby and her mother in Middle of Nowhere, their passive- aggressive behavior and relationships that exist before the movie begins that don’t have to be resolved before the movie ends. These are things that are really important to me.
MTM: What was the segment about with Barack Obama in I Will Follow? AD: We shot it the month after he won the presidency. I was just happy. And we were the first ones to use it. We were still in the glow of that moment when we made the film.
MTM: You were giving him some play? AD: Yes.
MTM: Did it fit the story? AD: No. I wrote the script while he was on the campaign trail. It’s something that we added later. Something had to be on the TV, right? It was just a mo- ment in time.
MTM: What about that roof scene and intimate exchange between Maye and the cable repairwoman?
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Figure 4. Salli Richardson- Whitfield as Maye and Beverly Todd as Amanda in I Will Follow. Courtesy of @AFFRM.
Figure 5. Salli Richardson- Whitfield as Maye and Omari Hardwick as Troy in I Will Follow. Courtesy of @AFFRM.
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AD: In a couple of films I’ve made there are scenes where my intentions are overshadowed by whatever is going on in the frame. And people interpret them in different ways.
MTM: What did you want to say because you weren’t filling space? AD: I wasn’t filling up space. I was focused on Maye interacting with a sur- vivor of what her aunt didn’t survive. Yet, whenever people talk about that scene, they never talk about that. They talk about these two women and . . .
MTM: Sisterhood stuff ? AD: No, not sisterhood stuff, but like are they attracted to each other?
MTM: Sexually? AD: Yes.
MTM: I didn’t make that association. AD: I’m telling you, Michael, it comes up so much. And I was like, “Really? Is that what you got from it?”
MTM: Here are two people who don’t know nothing about each other up there on that roof meditating about there’s life afer death or near death. That’s what it was about for me, not that they have a sexual attraction for each other. AD: Right. I’m clear. So, while it’s interesting to hear other views, that’s one of the reasons why I resist telling people what things mean, because some took away a different meaning that had nothing to do with the way I in- tended it to mean.
MTM: But should you, as author, respond, since their views are at odds with your intention? AD: No. I never explain. They got something from the scene that was beau- tiful and meaningful for them. It’s their interpretation. It’s valid. And, if it gets them to the end of the film feeling a certain way, then it’s . . . because the minute I say that, it negates what they brought to it. I think that’s horrible to correct someone’s interpretation.
MTM: Let’s move to Troy in I Will Follow. His character, among other things, speaks indirectly to class differences between Maye and him. Why make the dis tinction and not develop it?
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AD: I think there are some other points in the film where we touch on class. She has a fabulous celebrity friend who comes by. But you’re talking about something else?
MTM: Yes, in the sense that class takes on a different meaning and saliency when it involves intimate relationships (fig. 5). AD: Right.
MTM: Maye appeared to transcend the class difference between them. AD: I don’t think she did, though.
MTM: It was all about sex? AD: Yes, that’s what it was about. He wanted more and she didn’t. Was that based on class? I mean, it’s easier to have a fling with someone who drives a tow truck and just is a hunk of a guy?
MTM: Meat? AD: Yes. And you don’t have to have a lot of conversation. Maybe it was easier because of what he did and who he was?
MTM: But then she momentarily reconsiders and suggests something more than a hook up, but it’s too late and they both know it. And yet, he doesn’t exploit the mo ment by way of farewell. AD: Right. Maye’s reevaluating, but I don’t know if she would go through on what she said in that moment. It’s kind of like thinking, “What if I came back? What if I changed my life? I could make a life here.” It’s all in the air as fan- tasy. It’s something that just came up in that moment (fig. 6).
MTM: Why did you make Middle of Nowhere? AD: It started from an interest in exploring the lives of partners of the incar- cerated. It was an area that I have always been fascinated with, about women who wait. What we wait for. What we deem acceptable within a relationship.
MTM: Is it also your way of speaking for the incarceration of a generation of black men in this country? AD: Yes, I think so.
MTM: Why did you choose to set your story in prison and a black working class neighborhood?
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Figure 6. Salli Richardson- Whitfield as Maye and Omari Hardwick as Troy in I Will Follow. Courtesy of @AFFRM.
Figure 7. Emayatzy Corinealdi as Ruby in Middle of Nowhere. Courtesy of @AFFRM.
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AD: I don’t think the story would be true to the majority of the people who are incarcerated if you set it in any place that’s not working class. You know that a disproportionate number of people who are incarcerated are from working class communities.
MTM: Why the title Middle of Nowhere? AD: You know what—I now think that I probably could have done a differ- ent and better title.
MTM: No criticism intended. AD: “Middle of Nowhere” was what I put in the script when I was writing it because I felt it captured the place Ruby was in (fig. 7).
MTM: Ruby herself says, “You know, I’m in the middle of nowhere.” AD: Yes, a kind of transition place where things are uncertain. That’s where I wanted to put Ruby’s character, whereas in I Will Follow, Maye is at a point where the person that she looked up to is no longer present. So, will she fol- low the spirit, energy, and intention of her aunt, or go her own way? That was the big question in I Will Follow. In Middle of Nowhere, the big question was being caught between two worlds, two ways of being. But yes, I prob- ably could have come up with something snazzy.
MTM: It alludes to something beyond the immediacy of the story itself. AD: It’s fine. As a marketer, I could have done better. My next film after Selma is going to be really esoteric. I mean, “Come on, Daughters of the Dust.” You want to watch it.
MTM: The camera works with great effect in Middle of Nowhere. For example, you deploy flashbacks and close ups to poignantly render intimacy and individuate characters. Ruby’s embrace at the end with Derek is a case in point. I felt I was wit nessing a good bye not informed by anger and denunciation but rather enduring love and regret as Ruby moved on. Why your decision not to bring closure then to the film? AD: Ruby deserves her own frame because this is her story without either man in her life.
MTM: I hear that. AD: And so that wasn’t the closure for me. This is a story about her being in a family of women. I wanted to show the women. And I always knew that the last frame of the film was her alone at the bus stop going to work in the
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morning that a lot of people don’t get. Up until that point she had been work- ing at night. Someone says “good morning,” and she says “good morning.” While it appears as a very small change, it’s a new start and outside of the context of her relationship with either man. But you’re a man, so you would have stopped it with the scene with Derek?
MTM: But not because of the man thing. I read it as courageous assertion of her in dependence and delusion about the aferlife of prison with Derek, though my own [male] gaze has likely over determined Derek’s authority (fig. 8). AD: Right!
MTM: Are flashbacks your frame and signature for intimacy? AD: I’ve played with them in both films, but I don’t think of them as flash- backs. I think of them as memories—fragmented memories. In I Will Fol low, it’s the same. I didn’t realize until after I made the film that it was the way I was telling the story.
MTM: And not background context for your audience? AD: No, in neither one of the two scripts. They came out as we were in the editing room. In I Will Follow, Maye was experiencing this fragmented memory of an important moment with her aunt, putting on the makeup when she walked out the door. You see that memory in different stages, in the way that we really remember things. It’s not always a full memory. It’s not always ac- curate. It’s what we want it to be and what we need it to be at the time. And so, at the beginning of that film, it opens with a piece of the memory, and at different times jumps back to that one moment. By the end of the film, you’ve seen the full memory of her walking out the door, and you under- stand then, in the context of the larger story, why that might be important to her. The same can be said for Middle of Nowhere. In the first part of the film, Ruby continues to have this flash, this flicker of a memory of her husband nestled over her shoulder, kind of kissing her cheek. As we flash to it, at differ- ent points in the film, it elongates. And by the time she has the full memory, you see that the kiss and nuzzle that look so romantic were the beginning of the end. And so, I don’t use flashbacks as a device to further the story in terms of exposition. I use it more as emotional touchpoints in the editing room. We say jokingly to my editor, Spencer Averick, “Let’s look at the memory; let’s see how that could affect this moment.”
MTM: But do they also work to punctuate between scenes?
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Figure 9. David Oyelowo as Brian and Emayatzy Corinealdi as Ruby in Middle of Nowhere. Courtesy of @AFFRM.
Figure 8. Omari Hardwick as Derek and Emayatzy Corinealdi as Ruby in Middle of Nowhere. Courtesy of @AFFRM.
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AD: In I Will Follow, it’s not used as transition so much as to punctuate a mo- ment that’s just happened. So, in several parts of both films, the memory is inside a scene and not taking you from one scene to another. At some points, it’s used as punctuation for a moment within a scene or a beat. But I think it’s different from a flashback because that device is used as an expository technique to show you something, tell you something that you can’t say in the present. They are more like emotional echoes that parallel or punctuate the story [in real time].
MTM: The fact that they happen within the present, within the scenes themselves, do they serve this other function of bringing the past and the present together in the moment? AD: Yes, absolutely for sure.
MTM: It’s interesting that you take conventional terms for concepts and revision them with another purpose in mind. AD: Right.
MTM: What I’m lef with at the end of the day in both films is Maye carrying the load and Ruby walking away from it. To put it in pedestrian terms, her husband Derek is a loser. AD: He’s not a loser.
MTM: He’s an absolute loser. AD: Are you kidding? He’s not a loser. I’m just doing what you said earlier: defending my intention, how about that! [laughter]
MTM: The term may not express my meaning? AD: But I don’t think that he’s a bad guy and loser.
MTM: A loser isn’t a bad guy in my book. A loser is someone who’s constantly stum bling over themselves. They can’t get out of their own way. Derek means well. Every thing he promises Ruby he surely intends but will never deliver. And Ruby finally gets that it just ain’t going to happen. AD: Okay.
MTM: And all Derek’s apologies and explanations just don’t cut it anymore. That’s why last night on stage I said, afer the screening of Middle of Nowhere, that even if Derek wants to be a man, he can’t be a man because he inhabits a space where “men—black men—can’t be men and who don’t know how to be men.” AD: Right.
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MTM: Derek thinks Ruby wants the big house. To get it he’s out there selling stuff he goes to prison for. And Ruby later says, maybe I should have let him under stand that this isn’t about what I need, or what we should be pursuing. And in that sense, both Derek and Ruby are complicit. So, is he a caring loser dragging Ruby down with him? AD: Right, that’s better. A nice loser. [laughter]
MTM: Another aspect of your treatment of men—black and white—in both films is that you render their complexities in an evenhanded way. I have in mind the white guy who’s constrained by his circumstance but then comes back and apolo gizes to Maye in I Will Follow. AD: The neighbor.
MTM: In a poignant gesture of understanding, Maye acknowledges this, when he’s kneeling down and she passes, touching him on the shoulder. In Middle of No- where, Brian, the bus driver who becomes Ruby’s love interest, is portrayed as someone who wants more than a hook up. Alone and lonely he longs for a rela tionship (fig. 9). To your credit, you give him that space and respect and render cir cumstances where men can be at their best and very worst. Okay? AD: No, it’s great to hear.
MTM: And who bears the weight? Women who are lef caring for kids, paying them bills, alone in bed at night pretending there’s a future that from day one was doomed. Even Derek acknowledges that and so, too, does Ruby in declaring, “Haven’t we all selectively seen what we want to see?” So, for me you depict the men in their frailties and complexity marked by the limitations of their circumstances. AD: Yes. [chuckle] I’m glad to hear your interpretation of my treatment of men, though these are films centered on black women—but I don’t think that black men have to be condemned. And my goal is to make every character have their own reason for being the way they are. But it’s about Ruby’s relationship to herself and the way that it’s mirrored to her through the disappointment in the eyes of her mother, the expecta- tions of her sister, adoration of this new love interest that sees her in a dif- ferent way. All of these people, in clud ing her husband, were mirroring her back to herself until she could see herself clearly; see what’s not right and start to correct it (fig. 10). Even Gina, the ex- girlfriend [and mother of Derek’s daughter], is mirroring something to her: “You’re not as smart as you think you are. You’re not.”
MTM: Suggesting that Derek may be running a game on her? AD: Yes, she alludes to it. So, each of the people she encounters are showing her herself.
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MTM: Is Gina also signaling by Derek’s daughter that she can leverage stuff against Ruby? AD: Yes.
MTM: She’s working it. AD: Yes, she’s working a lot of it, for sure.
MTM: Why is Derek’s sexual encounter in the prison the precipitating event for Ruby to act in her own self interest? Is that credible? AD: Ruby’s living in her own world as far as Derek’s incarceration. She feels she has control of what’s going on. She makes the bargain at the top: you’re going to do five years with good time and you are going to be out of prison early. And I’m not going to medical school and we’re going to get through this and pick up where we left off. But the situation is variable: Derek acting up, hitting somebody with a pipe, starting a fight.
MTM: Who’s initiating? Who’s reacting? AD: We don’t know what’s going on. But the change in Derek’s situation is not in her plan. Her devastation, like a death knell, is realizing this is not a normal marriage and you do not have control over this.
MTM: But wasn’t she ready to go before Derek’s infidelity? AD: You think so? You think she wanted an excuse to walk?
MTM: I think she was ambivalent and that it was just waiting to happen (fig. 11). AD: That’s an interesting interpretation. [chuckle]
MTM: As I think more about the protagonists in Middle of Nowhere, they appear archetypal in the real or actual world, as some of your earlier comments suggest. Are they intentionally cast with this in mind? AD: Yes, they are definitely intentional. It strikes me as wonderful that those constructions are coming through.
MTM: Speaking of that, you render Brian the capacity to be part of Ruby’s life on Ruby’s terms. He’s clear about his intentions. That scene in front of the car was mas terfully scripted, visually depicted, and acted by both characters when he lays it out and says, “Look, my pride is not going to be at the head of the line.” AD: Right.
MTM: Even there, you’re envisioning the possibility within a heterosexual context for black men and black women to convene, negotiate, exchange, and evolve as
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Figure 10. Emayatzy Corinealdi as Ruby in Middle of Nowhere. Courtesy of @AFFRM.
Figure 11. Emayatzy Corinealdi as Ruby in Middle of Nowhere. Courtesy of @AFFRM.
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equal partners. Brian’s giving. He’s working hard to accommodate. He’s trying to understand. What comes of that is for us to ponder? AD: Right.
MTM: So, relationships are not doomed? AD: Yes, absolutely. [chuckle]
MTM: For me, the authority and utility of Middle of Nowhere is largely the so cial and his tori cal circumstance and setting for the story. How this family mirrors problems common to black workingclass families and communities. And while the story is personal within the family context, your frame is societal. What’s your reading of audiences’ reading of Middle of Nowhere? Are they aware that some thing bigger is in play and at stake? AD: I think so. People are smart. They may be getting it at different levels. They may be getting something subconsciously. Some people are attuned to the mother/daughter story. Some people are attuned to the love story. Some people are attuned to the social issues. They’re all intertwined. So, I don’t think that you can get one without getting some of the other. And that’s my hope.
MTM: Here’s what you do that so many filmmakers don’t do: You respect your au dience. You don’t pull punches. You engage with them as adults. That’s distinct and admirable. AD: I appreciate that. That’s a great compliment. I think with independent film we see that happen more and more. The idea of ambiguity embraced to allow audiences to fill in the spaces. This happens more, too, in foreign films. I think that it’s really the [Hollywood] sys tem that suppresses that narrative instinct in a lot of filmmakers. In contrast, in the independent space film- makers can and do so.
MTM: You’ve got the last word. AD: It’s lovely to be able to sit here with you. So oft en when I talk to people and interview, it’s usually with the press and very much about identity, be- ing black, and being a black woman filmmaker. I’m happy to talk about those things, but I rarely have a chance to sit down and talk about the work, and the story lines, and the intentions behind the characters, so this is really nice. Just this kind of analy sis and thought about the work that we’re doing as black independent filmmakers in this moment is rare and wonderful. And I take this conversation as a gift, and all of the conversations that I’ve had while I’m here, truly. We don’t get that kind of analy sis and that kind of attention to our work like this, and so this is one of the few places that’s doing it, and it’s really nourishing.
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NOTES
1. Ava DuVernay’s campus visit to Indiana University was made possible by Indiana University Women’s Philanthropy Council; Brian P. Graney, senior archivist, Black Film Center/Archive; Tilane Jones, AFFRM; and Jon Vickers, Indiana University Cinema. Thank you to Mark Hain for editorial suggestions. 2. Nsenga K. Burton, “Ava DuVernay: Win at Sundance ‘a Big Hug,’” The Root, Feb- ruary 22, 2012, http://www.theroot.com/articles/culture/2012/02/ava_duvernay_talking _sundance_win.html, accessed June 14, 2014. 3. Founded in 1999, DVA Media + Marketing. 4. In a question- and- answer session after IU’s screening of Middle of Nowhere, Du- Vernay elaborated on the distribution of I Will Follow: “I made the film with $50,000. And then relied on this collaborative distribution idea. All organizations I work with have leaders, offices, fax machines, phones, and mailing lists. They’re fully functioning organizations. It’s like if I came to IU and said to Jon [Vickers, director of Indiana Uni- versity Cinema], ‘Can we show a film here? Can you help me get some students? Can we get the word out? Can we use your mailing list?’ It was just that. And there’s not a lot of money needed for that. We had to make a little bit to make the poster, shipping the prints, FedEx, things like that. I had done a quick PR job for The Help [2011], so we had a little bit of funds. The Help helped me. So I put that money into those kinds of fees and the little things we needed, but the main work was done by sweat of people volunteering and say- ing, ‘We can do this. We think we can do this. Let’s try.’ When I look back, we were run- ning on energy and good vibes, and hope, and it worked out.” 5. Started by DuVernay in 2005. 6. Venus VS (2013). 7. In addition to The Door, DuVernay directed Say Yes (2013) for Fashion Fair. 8. Indiana University Media Relations, “Independent filmmaker, distributor Ava Du- Vernay to screen films, speak at Indiana University,” IU Newsroom, Sep tem ber 4, 2013, http://newsinfo.iu.edu/news- archive/24536.html, accessed Sep tem ber 10, 2013. 9. Again in the Q&A, DuVernay discussed the distribution of Neil Drumming’s film Big Words (2013), providing a case in point of AFFRM’s project and strategy: “ AFFRM distributed Big Words. We saw it at Slamdance and thought it was really interesting how Drumming was dealing with hip- hop and Obama’s election. And so we said, ‘Look, do you want to work together? We want people to see this.’ We released it this summer in L.A. and New York and a bunch of cities in the middle. . . . Its future will be on Netflix later in the year, so folks can access it that way. Its future is availability to people who want to see a good black film, and for so oft en black independent films have been in the drawers of their markets because there’s nowhere for them to go. And AFFRM’s goal is to make sure you see it. . . . It’s now played over forty cities. That’s wide distribution for a black in- dependent film. It opened in Times Square and downtown L.A. It had its UK premiere a couple of weeks ago. It’s played in Trinidad and Sierra Leone because of this model of holding hands and trying to get black films in theaters.” 10. Michael Cieply, “Building an Alliance to Aid Films by Blacks,” New York Times, January 9, 2011. C1. 11. Here DuVernay demystifies the fortunes of filmmakers lacking savvy: “Many filmmakers think ‘I’ve got it made. I made this movie. I’m going to sit back and wait for somebody to give me a check for four million dollars.’ This is not the reality of the mar-
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ket. We’re looking for amazing films by black independent filmmakers and producers who are realistic about the market and understand that Harvey Weinstein is probably not go- ing to write you a big check for that. Everyone is waiting for this dream we’ve been sold as independent filmmakers of color about how it works. It just doesn’t work that way any- more. So, not only are we looking for a certain kind of film, high quality film by a black director with a certain strong voice, something that we feel should be seen, we are also looking for partners in a way that makes financial sense.” 12. Carrie Rickey, “She’s a Graduate of an Unusual Film School,” New York Times, Oc to ber 5, 2012, http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/07/movies/ava- duvernay- and- midd, accessed April 16, 2013. 13. To a query from the audience about social networking and word- of- mouth dis- semination on her role as a publicist, DuVernay responded, “It elongates our strategy as marketers and is perfect for independent filmmakers. Even ten years ago, if I wanted to reach you, I had to buy an ad in something that you read, or buy an ad on the radio, or put a billboard where you passed. All of those things are not possible for the indepen- dent filmmaker or that small distributor. I had to get a review in a paper that you might read, or reach someone you knew who could bring you to the showing. Now you can click on a Facebook page. Whenever something goes out you get a notice, or I know the sites someone like you goes to, so I’m placing editorials, or even an electronic ad which is much cheaper than an ad on the magazine on that site. And we have Tumbler, Twit- ter, Foursquare, Google Hangout, Sound Cloud, Instagram. Every day there is something new. My intern says, “There’s a new thing, it’s called X”; “Get on it, we’ll fig ure out how it works, let’s try to reach some people through that.” So there’s this whole new suite of in- struments that we can use to reach you. And they don’t cost anything. There’s nothing better than that. So, we pay a lot of attention and use them because they are revolution- izing the way that independent artists—not just filmmakers—of all kinds are reaching their audience without permission. 14. Ava DuVernay, “Watch the Throne: A Militant Masterpiece,” The Huffington Post, October 28, 2011. 15.Consider DuVernay’s more sobering statement in Burton’s article for The Root when asked what her best director award at Sundance means for black women filmmak- ers: “I don’t think it means much in that regard. . . . We might start to lose track if we put too much into these honors and prizes, because the only thing that matters is the work. I’m not on some new age humility kind of vibe, but realistically it doesn’t mean that much for black women filmmakers. We’ve seen people who have won Oscars in the past for ex- traordinary performances, but what does it mean now? It’s a personal triumph, but does it equate to forward movement for black filmmakers, black people and the culture? I think not.” 16. Directed by DuVernay, the episode “Vermont Is for Lovers, Too” was aired on ABC No vem ber 21, 2013. See Tambay A. Obenson, “Ava DuVernay- Directed Episode of Scandal Nearly Beats CBS & NBC Combined in 10PM Hour,” Indiewire, No vem ber 22, 2013, http://blogs.indiewire.com/shadowandact/ava- duvernay- directed- episode- of- scandal, accesssed No vem ber 25, 2013. 17. See Mike Fleming Jr, “Ava DuVernay Now Aboard to Direct MLK Biopic ‘Selma,’” Deadline Hollywood, July 29, 2013, http://www.deadline.com/2013/07/ava- duvernay - director- selma- movie- martin- luther- king/, accessed Sep tem ber 2, 2013. 18. While at Indiana University, DuVernay elaborated on the backstory of Selma and said, “Selma has been around for a while. A British screenwriter wrote this film on spec.
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Spec means nobody paid you. You just were crazy enough to start writing on your own, which is what most of us do to get started. It ended up on something called the ‘Black List’ in Hollywood, which is like the list that newer screenwriters want to be on because it’s like the hottest scripts in town. Every year Franklin Leonard publishes the Black List, which is the most talked about unproduced scripts in Hollywood. So, this film script landed on that and a lot of buzz surrounded it. Everyone started circling the script be- cause he did something really interesting. He zeroed in on this period of King’s life, so it didn’t have to be a cradle to grave, cram in everything. It’s like four months. This says it all. Who King was, where he was going, where he had come from, and what he was really about under duress. You can make one about Memphis. You can make one about Mont- gomery. It’s like nine episodes in the life, but this one was super interesting. And so that’s what we did, find the window and go from there. The filmmakers who touched the script, or been around the project, or thought about making it, or at one point were attached in- clude Michael Mann, Paul Haggis, Stephen Frears, Spike Lee. So a lot of people at some point were like, ‘I’m making Selma,’ right. It’s been moving and around for a while. The last incarnation was with Lee Daniels, who directed Precious and The Butler. He was going to cast David Oyelowo as King. David played the son in The Butler and preacher in The Help. And in Middle of Nowhere, Ruby is his love interest. David was the one, after Lee, who said ‘I’m not going to do Selma.’ He said, ‘you need to call Ava, she’s the one that’s going to get it done.’ He really got me the job. So he’s King and he’s fabulous. That’s where it is right now, finishing up the script and is supposed to be in preproduction in Janu ary. I’m excited and eager.”
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