Queer.Horror.Movies

The curated portfolio of film journalist Joe Lipsett

Queer Horror Director Showcase: Jeffrey Reddick, How Risk Affects Gay Content in Hollywood and Making the Jump from Writer to Director

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Name: Jeffrey Reddick

Age:  (Bitch…who asks that? 🙂 49)

Birth Place: Florida, but I grew up in Kentucky and claim that as home

Sexuality: Gay

Notable films: Final Destination (2000), Tamara (2005), Day of the Dead (2008), Dead Awake (2016), The Final Wish (2018) and (soon) Good Samaritan

When did you know you were queer? When did you come out?

Jeffrey Reddick: I’ve known from as far back as I can remember. I didn’t know what to call it, but when I hit puberty, I realized that the feelings other men described about women was what I felt for men.  It was interesting, because being bi-racial was also a big deal at the time.  So I faced a lot of outward prejudice based on my race.  My mom always went out of her way to tell me to love myself and not worry about what other people thought about me being “different.”  That helped me deal with all of the homophobic stuff I heard growing up.

I came out to my best friend when I was 13.  He said it was just phase, but was cool with it, so that was good. Other kids kind of assumed, but…and this is awful to say…they were so focused on my race that they bullied me for that rather than for being gay. And no girls’ parents would let them date me in high school, so I didn’t have to worry about the stress of pretending to like girls.

When I went to college and majored in theatre, it was a whole other world. It was very accepting. I was out in college and even started an LGBTQ group on campus.

I finally decided to come out to my mom in college.  I think that’s one of the biggest burdens we carry if we’re not out to our families. No matter where we go in the world, there’s always the nagging feeling that if our families find out, they’ll stop loving us or disown us.  Sadly, that still happens. My mom was an amazing mother, but she was also an older Southern woman and Southern people are really concerned about “what the neighbors think.” She wound up reacting in a typical fashion: she cried for a few days non-stop, but then her best friend literally told her to shut up and said ”he’s still the same son you raised.”

Once my mom realized it wasn’t a big deal to her best friend, I think it gave her permission to accept me.  Again, this was in the late 80’s, so it was a much different time.

You’ve had an amazing and diverse career as a horror writer of both film and TV. What prompted the recent shift into directing and how did it come about?

JR: It was never my dream. I wanted to act in the early 90’s, but unless you could rap or wanted to play a thug or a pimp they didn’t know what to do with you (if you had dark skin).  That’s why I transitioned to writing.

Directing was something I really became interested in, but, honestly, fear held me back for a long time. I have a few passion projects that I want to direct, but they’re big(ger) budget films.  Most of my later scripts went the indie film route, which meant that I got to spend a lot of time on set and get comfortable.

With [feature directorial debut] Good Samaritan, it was a story that I wanted to tell and since we were doing it indie, and could get investors who were open to me directing, the opportunity was there, so I took it.

What is it about horror that attracts you?

JR:  When I was younger it was definitely the “naughty” factor.  My friends and I would watch the goriest films possible as an act of rebellion. After seeing the original Nightmare on Elm, I realized how amazing the genre could be and started reading Fangoria and became obsessed with it.

As a gay man, I do have a subconscious connection with the Final Girls of the 80’s.  They were always good girls who didn’t fit in with the popular clique that was partying and have sex all the time.  They were outsiders and they rose to be the victors, and that element really struck me.  I love so many Final Girls and I think that also dovetails with a lot of gay men who love strong women. When I was growing up, Nancy Thompson was the ultimate to me.  And Laurie Strode. And Amy Steel (the list is endless!)

I also started realizing how fun it was to scare people.  Hearing people scream during a film you wrote is the ultimate thrill.  It’s a genre that I’ve stubbornly stuck with and will probably do so for the rest of my career.  I just find that you can tell so many types of stories and deal with topics in ways that you can’t in other genres.  It’s just a world I love.

What films (queer or not) have made a significant impact on you and your work? In what way?

JR: A Nightmare On Elm Street is definitely the biggest influence. The complex heroine. The original, and terrifying, villain. The theme of the sins of the past haunting us resonates with me. I also love how Freddy would find people’s weaknesses and prey on them. That’s a theme in a lot of my films.

I also love all the standard classics like Halloween, Friday the 13th and films like that.  Evil Dead scared the hell out me.  And I love the beauty of films like Suspiria and the artistry and themes of Candyman.  They all appeal to different aspects of me. When I write a slasher film, I try to think of kills that I haven’t seen before, but I love supernatural horror where you can bend the rules and mess with people’s head.  I did realize with Good Samaritan that I’m more old school in my filming style; I don’t care for the hyper-edited, over-saturated look of films. I like movies that feel more grounded and real.

Topping the list of non-horror films that really impacted me was Maurice.  It’s the first gay Merchant Ivory film. I stole money from my mom (bad me) and ordered it from The Oscar Wilde bookstore in New York.  I watched that movie on a loop until the VHS tape wore out in my little trailer in Kentucky. Even though it’s a period piece, the story still resonates with many of the struggles that our community faces today.  It deals with forbidden young love, religion, and conversion therapy, but it wasn’t a tragedy. It also spoiled men for me! I decided at 13 that one day I would marry a proper English chap. I still haven’t even visited London!  (I need to get on that)

You’ve worked on so many diverse projects in different capacities. How progressive or welcoming is the industry (TV and film) for queer creators right now?

JR: It’s very welcoming.  Hollywood is not free of homophobia by any means, but people forget that Hollywood isn’t a world unto itself.  A lot of people here are artists who left their hometowns in the South and Midwest to follow their dreams and sometimes people bring their prejudices with them. Most people who vehemently dislike gay people have never actually met one, but there are plenty of gay people in Hollywood, so people change when they come here. It’s not magic in the air. It’s actually meeting normal people who happen to be gay and realizing that we’re regular people; we don’t have some nefarious agenda. We just want to live their lives.

The biggest problem isn’t with the behind the scenes stuff.  It’s that Hollywood is very risk-averse, so they create content that will appeal to the vast majority of America and worry that “Middle America” isn’t ready for some stuff.  That’s why it is much tougher being an out actor in Hollywood. Even if the studio heads don’t say publicly, they’re still averse to casting gay actors in traditional “straight” roles.  I’ve seen it happen so much.  And, of course, there are still actors who will sign on to a project and then not want to kiss a guy.  I’ve seen several gay characters who were “de-gayed” for actors.  Or gay content that watered down – Tamara being one example – to the point that it undermined what I was trying to say.  So Hollywood is welcoming, but because making movies is such a risk, some people still want to play is safe when it comes to big studios films.

On the bright side, TV is thriving with its representation of LGBTQ characters.  It’s astounding and really has given gay youth growing up today the kind of complex role models that I never had growing up.  I always think it’s important for people to realize how fortunate we are to be living in the times we live in. Yes, we have forces trying to deny us our rights, but when I was growing up, there weren’t really any out gay actors to relate to. Living in Kentucky, I would find out an actor was gay after they died of AIDS. So it was sad and tragic and even when you tried to find some kinship with people like Rock Hudson, you realized they lived their lives in hiding. But then you would discover people like Clive Barker, who’s a brilliant talent, who was gay and open and you’d find these little rays of hope and inspiration.

But I think TV is really where the biggest and most impactful change has happened. We’ve gotta give Shonda Rhimes a huge shout-out for that.  There are also a lot of gay celebrities who have done so much for the community:  Ellen. Rosie. Neil Patrick Harris (just to name a few). They were all trailblazers.  And Greg Berlanti has done such an amazing job of including gay and trans characters in so many of his shows.  I think we’re really in the Golden Age of TV.

Do you believe that your sexuality informs your work? 

JR: It can’t help but influence it.  I think each of us has a distinct perspective and world view. You can give five writers the same concept and their stories will undoubtedly be different because they’re writing from a different place because of their experiences. I think the biggest way my sexuality influences me is that I understand the outsider who’s just trying to make a difference in the world (even if that difference is just to entertain someone for a few hours).  Therefore my horror writing is more about fun scares and kills – not torture (although I do watch those films, as well).

For my scripts, I’ve always made sure to write strong women. They can be extremely sexy…but I don’t sexualize or fetishize them in the way that a straight writer might. And, of course, Final Destination had a “Final Boy” in Alex because I wanted to subvert the genre a little.

I’m also mindful to include gay characters in my work whenever possible…even though a lot of them have been changed. My friend Paul Etheredge wrote a gay slasher film called Hellbent about 20 years ago. I don’t think the world was ready for it, but it is now. Even though there wasn’t room for it in Good Samaritan, I do plan to be more involved going forward when my scripts are adapted. For me personally, I try to write gay characters where it’s not their defining characteristic. We are all so much more than our sexuality, even though society often tries to boil us down and act like that’s all we are.

Have you interacted with many queer horror fans of your work? What has that experience been like?

JR: A ton. There is such a large LGBTQ horror fanbase out there and it’s really a shame that no one has tapped into it.  I meet so many fans and most of them are just excited to know that an out gay man created a franchise they love.  I’ve gotten a lot of love for Tamara as well, even though the lesbian lead had that stripped from her and the “gay scene” in the film isn’t how I wrote it.  But queer fans really relate to the story of an outsider who gets empowered and takes revenge her tormentors. It’s so much fun going to conventions and seeing younger people inspired to write/act/direct horror. Or couples who met on a Final Destination date and are still together.  LGBTQ fans have this idea that the horror community isn’t accepting of gay people, but honestly I’ve found them to be the most welcoming group.

I love interacting with fans.  In films, writers don’t get much attention, it’s all about the actors and directors. But horror fans are the greatest, most passionate and loyal fans.  They’ve supported me through some great films (and some not so great ones) and they get excited about everyone – from cast to crew – involved in the horror films they love.

I’ve had some fans who say I inspired them to come out and that’s the most rewarding thing.  Well, the most truly touching and rewarding thing is I’ve met a few fans who were closeted and depressed and said they contemplated suicide until they read an article or heard a podcast where I talked about being gay. It’s less about me; it’s about the importance of visibility.  Let people know that you can be who you are, live your life without shame and go after your dreams. That’s why I have so much admiration for the people who have come before me.

So you’ve literally just announced your directorial debut, Good Samaritan. What can you tell me about the film? How is the transition to the director’s chair?

JR: I can tell you that it’s about a group of people who witness a man getting beaten and don’t help.  When they start being killed off, our lead, Caitlin Kramer, is convinced that it’s a supernatural killer, but the police and everyone else thinks it’s a person making them pay for their crimes.

I hate to say this because I hate when other people make a horror film and then try to say it’s a supernatural thriller (as though horror is a dirty word)…but this movie is a supernatural mystery.  Because the film plays with that uncertainty about whether there is a force after these people or if it is just a person, I couldn’t dig in to my bag of supernatural horror tricks or my slasher tricks.  As a result, the kills aren’t shown, but the bloody aftermath is.

It was a great experience.  It’s my first film, so even though I’ve been on a ton of movie sets, you really don’t know what you don’t know until you actually make a movie.  It really is a miracle to get a film made and you have to be creative and flexible while shooting. We’re in post now, which is where the movie comes to life, so it’s really exciting. Directing is something that I definitely want to do again.

Follow Jeffrey on social media:

Queer Horror Director Showcase: Erlingur Thoroddsen, Growing Up Gay in Iceland and the US Remake of ‘Rift’

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Name: Erlingur Thoroddsen

Age: 35

Birthplace: Reykjavik, Iceland

Sexuality: Gay

Notable films:Child Eater (2016), Rift (2017)

When did you know you were queer? When did you come out?

Erlingur Thoroddsen: I was about 12 when I realized that I liked boys more than I liked girls, but looking back there were definitely moments earlier in my life when it should have been obvious. But at the same time, most kids don’t really think about their sexuality until they reach puberty, so it makes sense that that’s the age when this realization happens.

I was 17 when I came out, and it was a long drawn-out process. I would tell a couple of friends and then wait a few weeks and tell some other friends. This went on for a year or so until I told my parents. Everyone was amazing and supportive — afterwards my family would walk with me in the Reykjavik Pride parade, and they still go every year even if I’m not around.

Iceland is very progressive and open-minded in general, so there was really no reason for me to be afraid of coming out, but at the same time I would always imagine the worst case scenarios. I guess that is the price you pay for having an hyperactive imagination.

How did you get into filmmaking?

ET: I was always fascinated with movies from a very early age. As a kid, I would much rather stay inside and watch TV than go outside and play. At a certain point I realized that there are actually people who make the movies and from there on, there was no stopping me. Initially, I wanted to be an actor because young me thought that the actors made the movies themselves (I was admittedly kind of a terrible actor).

Once I learned about the concept of writers and directors, everything changed. I must have been about ten years old when I started shooting home-made horror movies on my dad’s old mini-VHS camera. Over the years, those little shorts kept getting bigger and more ambitious, and in my twenties I decided to spend all my savings on going to film school in America – having grown up on American films, that seemed to make the most sense. I got accepted in the Columbia University film program and haven’t really looked back since!

Rift (2017)

Why do you make horror films?

ET: Horror is also something I gravitated towards very early. I think it was a mix of being tempted by the unknown and forbidden – and also a little masochistic appetite for fear. I was obsessed with horror VHS covers long before I was allowed to watch the movies, and I made my mom tell me the plots of the scary films she had seen. By hearing her plot descriptions and having seen key images from the VHS boxes, I was already making up movies in my head when I was very little.

The first two horror films I remember watching were Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare (which got me obsessed with Freddy Krueger) and Aliens (which got me obsessed with that franchise), when I was seven years old. They both scared me to death. It was a feeling I kept wanting to come back to.

I think a part of the reason that I make horror films is a desire to replicate those emotions both for myself and for an audience. Horror also allows you to use interesting visual metaphors and explore societal themes without the burden of being “realistic” like a lot of other genres would require. In horror, everything goes, which is a very liberating thing creatively speaking.

What films (queer or not) have made a significant impact on you and your work? In what way?

ET: I could name so many, so I’ll stick with some of the highlights. I had a big Italian-horror movie obsession for  years. For example, Dario Argento’s Suspiria and Profondo Rosso (Deep Red) made me realize how the camera can act as an active participant in telling the story, not bound to any of the characters necessarily. Brian De Palma is also a big influence for me, specifically his lurid thrillers like Dressed to Kill. I just love the passion and visual flare that’s on display. These are filmmakers that really deal in creating sensational moments that impact you viscerally and emotionally (maybe a little less emotionally in Argento’s case).

Some other horror titles that impacted me: Scream was like an encyclopedia of horror for me (it’s still one of my favorite films of all time). A Nightmare on Elm Street is the scariest film I’ve ever seen and Freddy Krueger will always be my #1 villain. The Innocents has perfect atmosphere and tension; it’s also one of the most beautiful films of all times. Vertigo is my favorite Hitchcock and really made me appreciate how mysteries with no easy solutions can make a movie stick with you forever (see also: Don’t Look Now, Mulholland Drive, Picnic at Hanging Rock). These are all films that about the journey, not the conclusion.

I’m leaving out so many things I love, but if it was directed by Verhoeven, Bergman, Spielberg, Tarkovsky or Carpenter, chances are that I stan.

(Also, Aliens because it is perfectly structured and probably the film I’ve seen the most.)

Child Eater (2016)

You’re an Icelandic filmmaker, so your experiences getting films off the ground may be completely different from other directors in this showcase. How progressive or welcoming do you think the industry is for queer creators right now?

ET: I can only speak from my own experiences as a white gay director, and from what I have heard anecdotally from others, but my sense is that there is definitely an industry-wide desire to make queer movies and TV. The problem is, I think a lot of studios don’t really know *what kind* of queer movies they want to make. I’ve heard from people who go in to pitch something that features gay protagonists and the feedback they get is that it’s “too gay” or that their ideas are somehow not relatable enough for a broad audience. Basically there’s a suggestion that there is a right kind of queer content and a wrong kind of queer content.

I think the studios are torn between wanting to be progressive and “with the times,” but not really knowing what that means. For a lot of them, the idea of “queer” seems to be very clean-cut and mainstream.

They are thinking about what will sell and that’s a hard thing to figure out because there’s not a lot of studio-level examples they can look at (although, this seems to be changing a lot more rapidly in TV). Most overtly queer horror films are made in the indie or foreign space. The horror community rallies around those films but in terms of financial success, they might not be the examples to inspire confidence in studio execs. So it’s this Catch 22 situation where there’s a desire to do something, but also a lot of fear about it at the same time.

Rift feels like a very personal film. How informed by your own experiences was the narrative of that film? Does your sexuality play a part in your filmmaking practice normally?

ET: It was very much informed by my own experiences. When I started writing it, I had just gone through a breakup and was stuck in a prolonged “dark night of the soul” period. I had a lot of stuff on my mind: about how loving someone doesn’t mean you should be with them; co-dependency; how two people who share a moment might have very different memories of that moment. Stuff like that.

At the same time I felt frustrated that I didn’t have a second feature in the pipeline, so I decided I would just make something on my own. I figured I could do a film inexpensively if I had two actors in one cabin and it made sense to take all the things I had on my mind and have those characters explore them. Writing the script was basically a long therapy session for me.

Overall, I think my sexuality definitely plays a part in my creative process. It’s a big part of who I am and the community I spend the most time with, so I think it is only normal that it finds its way into my work. Sometimes it happens in overt ways, and sometimes it’s more subtextual. I try not to question my creative impulses too much. Once I have good idea, I like to run with it and see where it takes me. I feel like most of the stuff I write or come up with has a queer component in one way or another, but I also don’t like to force anything into a story if it doesn’t feel right. It all depends on the project.

That said, I generally feel that a queer element makes what I’m watching at least 20% more interesting.

Do you subscribe to queer readings of your films?

ET: Absolutely! Before film, my background was in comparative literature, so basically I will subscribe to any reading of my films as long as the text warrants it and/or the critic makes a compelling argument.

And it’s kind of easy for my films. I’ve made two features so far, one of which is all about a disintegrated gay relationship and the other one is about an imaginative little boy who is terrorized by a monster in his closet…

Wonder where that comes from…

Have you interacted with many queer horror fans of your films? What has that experience been like?

ET:A little bit, yeah. I was fortunate enough to get to travel around the world with Rift when it did the festival circuit and I met a lot of people who were really taken by the movie. I think its themes are universal and people who have gone through hard breakups really relate to it, queer or not – although I do think there is something in that film that specifically speaks to gay men. I’ve also seen a lot of love online, as well as deep-dives and close readings into the film that have impressed me quite a bit.

It’s really rewarding and humbling for me that people want to talk about the film at all, let alone with so much passion. I love it.

Kuldi (Cold)

I’m both excited and nervous about word of an American remake of Rift. How involved will you be on that? And what else do you have on your plate?

ET: There is no need to be nervous! I am definitely involved and have been developing a script for the new version with Orion Pictures, which has been an amazing experience. It’s a story that is too close to my heart for me to give it up completely to someone else.

I can’t say too much about it at the moment other than it is still going to be very queer and scary — probably even scarier! I really couldn’t be more excited about where we are taking it.

Everyone involved is a big fan of the original film so I feel like I’m in great hands. I can’t wait to give you more info, but I have to keep tight-lipped for now!

Otherwise, I’ve got a few other things on my plate, one of which is an adaptation of a fantastic Icelandic bestseller called Cold (Kuldi in Icelandic). It’s a mystery thriller with some spooky elements and some mind blowing twists. It’s really fun and will let me explore some of my Hitchcock/De Palma fetishes a bit more. The idea is to shoot it this coming winter, so that and Rift are keeping me plenty busy at the moment.

Follow Erlingur on social media:

Queer Horror Creator Showcase: DRW Phillips, Crafting Alt Posters and Making Space For New Voices

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Name: DRW Phillips

Age: 23

Birth Place: Indianapolis, IN

Sexuality: Pansexual

Notable films: Posters Lazarus, Bliss, Long Lost 

When did you know you were queer? When did you come out?

DRW: I knew that I was trans from as far back as elementary school, but it was also something that I repressed for years. In the eighth grade I knew that I was, at the very least, bisexual (shout out to Europe’s “Final Countdown” video for helping me get there) and I attempted to come out as bi to one of my closest friends. It backfired and my entire friend group turned into my tormentors. I dove back into the closet through high school and wasn’t able to come out and explore my sexuality until college.

It wasn’t until the unending terror of the 2016 election that I finally came out as transgender. I was no longer in a place where I was willing to be intimidated anymore.

You’ve made quite a name for yourself making “alt” posters for famous films. How did that begin?

DRW: I did a lot of loose design in high school and college, little things for the music scene or classmates’ films. At the end of 2017 I decided that this was something I wanted to pursue seriously and planned an entire year of doing one poster design for a film a day. I’d been really taken by artists like Scott Saslow who had done similar projects before and loved the variety a project like this demanded.

I did over 365 posters on my Instagram account in 2018 and have been fortunate enough to begin to turn that into a full time career as a designer. Since then I still make room for self initiated pieces in between my official projects to keep trying new styles and adding more tools to my belt.

DRW’s alt poster for Cruising

You have created posters for all different kinds of films, but you seem most prolific in the horror genre.  What attracts you to those projects? 

DRW:  I’m a big cinephile, but my biggest love will always be for horror films. It’s one of the most potent genres in the world that allows filmmakers and artists alike to take creative leaps that wouldn’t be allowed anywhere else. Exploring films like The Fog, Manhunter, The Devils, and even Zulawski’s Possession allowed me to be as creative and experimental as possible in a way that would still properly serve the films I was paying homage to.

A majority of the artists that I look up to are those that operate within the horror and genre space. Jay Shaw, Graham Humphreys, Stephen Sayadian, Chris Garofalo, and others have all made indelible marks on myself and horror fans around the world through their art. On top of that, the horror community is one of the strongest and most supportive in the world.

As a producer on the queer horror podcast Dead for Filth, I became connected to that community and have seen first hand how spectacular and unique it is. People are so excited to share their love for these movies in a way no other genre or fandom can replicate. It’s always an honor for me to be asked to contribute to a horror film.

What films (queer or not) have made a significant impact on you and your work? In what way?

DRW: Luis Buñuel’s The Phantom of Liberty changed my life. It’s a surrealist comedy from 1974. It has no plot but it’s highly subversive and strange. The poster by my favorite artist in the world, René Ferracci, is outrageous and iconic. It’s a simple collage of a bright pink butt dressed as the Statue of Liberty with a wilting torch and standing on ostrich legs. It was used on the VHS and DVD and it just hit me like a ton of bricks the first time I saw it casually sitting on a shelf at the library. The movie and the poster together were like a 1-2 punch that completely threw me off my axis and set me on a new path. I now have that original poster framed above the desk where I work.

How progressive or welcoming is the industry for queer creators right now?

DRW: I’ve been rather fortunate within the horror and design communities to have found a great deal of acceptance. Most everyone I know within the horror space identifies within the LGBTQ spectrum in one way or another. The world of design is still predominantly white and male, but what matters most is the work and less who is behind it.

Along with the democratization of digital design tools, the space has started to open up to more diverse voices. We still have a long way to go in the entertainment industry as a whole, though, particularly for trans voices and creators.

That shouldn’t dismay anyone from wanting to step into the space, though. The only way we’ll be able to become as progressive and open as we need is to have as many people from different backgrounds and identities join and change the industry from within. The only people who can speak for us are ourselves.

DRW’s alt poster for Heathers

Do you believe that your sexuality informs your work? 

DRW: I do believe that my work is informed by my trans and queer identity. Creating any kind of art is an expression of a point of view. When I create a design, whether as a personal or commissioned project, it’ll always be simply an interpretation of a film or an album through my inherently queer, trans perspective. That’s something that cannot be separated from the work – just as it can’t be separated from who I am as a person or as an artist.

Do you subscribe to queer readings of your films?

DRW: I’m a big advocate of finding queer readings within traditionally “non-queer” media. There are simply too few stories out there detailing our perspective and identities that we still have to search for coded characters and narratives to fulfill our natural need to see ourselves affirmed within media.

As someone who identifies as a queer individual, I believe that everything I do is, in one way or another, queer and therefore a slightly transgressive act. It’s always a great compliment if others see that as well.

Have you interacted with many queer horror fans of your films? What has that experience been like?

DRW: Queer horror fans are the best people in the world. I am gobsmacked whenever I see or meet anyone within the queer horror space that owns piece of my work.

Someone recently had the artwork that I did inspired by John Carpenter’s The Fog made into their shower curtain. I do not have to words to express how crazy and amazing that is. That is the main audience I am looking to please.

DRW’s alt poster for The Exorcist

What’s next for you?

DRW: I have a few more official posters and a limited edition blu-ray coming out later this year that I can’t wait to share with the world. I hope to be able to continue making strange and subversive designs for some time.

Follow DRW on social media:

[Review] An Unsettling Premise Can’t Save ‘The Cleaning Lady’ From A Weak Script

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There’s an uncomfortable tension at work in The Cleaning Lady, Jon Knautz’s feature length adaptation of his short of the same name. It’s in the key art for the film (a woman wears a domestic maid’s uniform, bloody gloves and an uncanny-looking mask) and it’s baked into the premise, about the obsessive relationship that develops between Alice (Alexis Kendra, who also co-wrote the script), a successful, albeit flawed aesthetician and her disfigured cleaning woman, Shelly (Rachel Alig).

The Cleaning Lady is first and foremost a stalker film. Alice hires Shelly on the down low to privately clean her apartment, thereby allowing the meek, mysterious woman access to her home. Considering that the film opens with Shelly brewing a rat smoothie and feeding it to a chained woman in an abandoned shipping container, it’s immediately clear that Alice is making a mistake. And just in case it wasn’t obvious, Knautz includes a horror musical cue when Alice first stumbles upon Shelly cleaning her clogged shower drain.

Alice and Shelly are contrasted using straightforward visual cues: Alice is blonde and her apartment is bathed in a sunny yellow colour, whereas Shelly’s dark hair continually hangs in her face and her home is located off the beaten path in the woods. Alice is also pert and chipper, good at casual small talk and maintaining her physique with regular yoga classes. Shelly is barely verbal, going about her business quietly with her head down. It’s only when Alice hires and then befriends Shelly that the latter begins to open up; alas, it simultaneously initiates her unhealthy obsession with Alice’s seemingly perfect life.

The fact that Alice’s “perfection” is a facade isn’t evident to Shelly, who idolizes her new employer. The reality is that Alice is a slave to her vices, which range from small – her inability to quit smoking – to large – carrying on an affair with a married man, Michael (Stelio Savante). The discovery that Alice isn’t living up to Shelly’s expectations push the cleaning woman over the edge and, naturally, violence follows.

Artificiality as a “cover up” is an obvious, but effective metaphor for both Alice and Shelly. Alice only looks put together because she has the proper make-up, clothes and body, whereas Shelly’s refusal to play dress up for the world – opting for ball caps, no make-up and baggy clothes – immediately distinguish her as an outsider.

And therein lies the problem. Anything interesting that The Cleaning Lady has to say about living fake lives, dressing to pass, or using a make-over as cover-up (literally and figuratively) is undone by a script that favours exploitation and titillation over genuine human emotion.

Not unlike Blumhouse’s recent thriller Ma, The Cleaning Lady wants to explore how childhood trauma contributes to the development of adult victimizers. In this case, sporadic flashbacks introduce a young Shelly (Mykayla Sohn), a minor being sexually exploited by her mother, pimped out to random men in exchange for money. These glimpses into the past have the same sweaty, grimy sheen as the flashbacks in Black Xmas, and young Shelly’s infantile interest in dolls is nicely juxtaposed by the decrepitness of the rest of the house and the leering, greasy pedophiles. It’s all suitably icky.

It’s also on-the-nose obvious; the flashbacks serve as a narrative shorthand to “explain” adult Shelly’s psychosis. But, while it is not uncommon in horror to assign a childhood trauma to villains, here it is both too fleeting and too simplistic. The Cleaning Lady lacks finesse, resulting in a series of clunky flashbacks that trade in manipulative exploitation and seemingly exist to pay-off the film’s obvious conclusion.

Despite the clumsy use of overly simplistic pop psychology to explain Shelly’s motivation, The Cleaning Lady does have a number of elements worth recommending. The performances by both lead actresses are solid and Knautz makes good use of a few key locations to maintain a claustrophobic feel as Shelly slowly collapses the boundaries between her and her prey. There are several set pieces that really connect, the creepiest of which is a late night sojourn by Shelly into Alice’s bedroom to make a latex mask of Alice’s “perfect” visage. It’s deeply unsettling, and makes for a fascinating mirroring effect when the prosthetic becomes Shelly’s trademark mask.

Speaking of make-up, the effects are a bit of a mixed bag: for every effect that works (Shelly’s burns), there’s another that doesn’t quite hit the mark (a torture scene involving acid is particularly unconvincing). This is forgivable, however, considering that budget undoubtedly played a factor.

Unfortunately the film is undone by its undercooked script. In addition to the explanation for Shelly’s mental state, there’s an abrupt narrative shift in the last act that derails the film’s focus by thrusting a heretofore peripheral character into the spotlight. It simply does not work and the poorly executed creative decision comes off as a cheap (and predictable) attempt to inject tension (and increase the body count), but actually just muddles the narrative at a time when it should be crescendoing. It’s an unfortunate development that negatively impacts the film’s ending and the film would have been better off ironing it out of the script early on.

The Bottom Line: The Cleaning Lady has strong lead performances, a creepy premise and a few unsettling set pieces, but it is undone by poor script decisions, particularly the cheap reliance on exploitative flashbacks. 2.5/5

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l92FHpCtysU

Queer Horror Director Showcase: BJ Colangelo, Growing Up In The Public Eye and the Cleveland Horror Scene

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Name: BJ Colangelo

Age: 29

Birth Place: Winthrop Harbor, IL

Sexuality: Queer/Gay

Notable films: Margaret (2016), Powerbomb (2018), Deathcember (2019), Labrys (2019)

When did you know you were queer? When did you come out?

BJ Colangelo: The truth is that I knew when I was about five-years-old. I had fallen in love (the way only a kindergartener can) with a girl in my class. We kissed on the playground and when the teacher told our parents, she was sent away to Catholic School. (She IS gay, by the way; we reconnected in College)

However, I was raised in a community with very well known parents (my dad was a politician). We were always in the public eye and I was afraid that my sexuality was going to ruin my father’s career, so I desperately tried to convince myself that I wasn’t gay. I had relationships with women in private all throughout my life, but it wasn’t until my college years that I tip-toed out of the closet and just recently finally began to publicly live my truth. There is no wrong way for someone to come to terms with their sexuality.

In the last five or so years, you’ve really become a bit of a multi-hyphenate (writer, actor, director, producer). How did you get into filmmaking?

BJC: Filmmaking is something that I never knew that I had the option to pursue. As a woman, I was socially conditioned to believe that filmmaking wasn’t meant for someone like me. It wasn’t until I met my Powerbomb co-director, Zach Shildwachter, that someone finally told me, “there’s no reason you can’t make movies. Do it.”

I know you’ve branched out with Powerbomb most recently, but most of your filmmaking career is tied to horror. What is it about horror that keeps you coming back?

BJC:  Horror has always been my lifeblood for as long as I can remember. I spent a decade analyzing and critiquing horror films, and it’s where my brain likes to live. Powerbomb is more of a character study/thriller, but there are elements of horror littered throughout. Fear is a universal emotion, but what makes us afraid is different for every person. I’m fascinated by figuring out what impacts us as a whole, and how can I bring that to screen.

What films (queer or not) have made a significant impact on you and your work? In what way?

BJC: I have worshipped at the altar of John Waters for as long as I can remember. His punk-rock/DIY/take no shit attitude in all of his films is awe-inspiring. Waters tells stories that he wants to tell, he tells them in his way, and never sacrifices his creativity or style in the process. He casts “non-traditional” actors and doesn’t give a single fuck what anyone thinks of him. If I can capture even a fraction of that energy, I’ll consider my career a success.

“They Used To Laugh and Call Him Names” from Deathcember

You’re working out of Cleveland, which is rare compared to a lot of other directors situated in Hollywood. Does that present its own challenges? How progressive or welcoming is the industry (Cleveland or more broadly speaking) for queer creators right now?

BJC:  Working in Cleveland has its benefits because it is exponentially cheaper to work here than anywhere else. Cost of living is laughably affordable compared to places like New York or Los Angeles. Rental fees, props, locations, costumes, craft services, etc…all of these things can be done on a shoestring budget.

As far as the progressive/welcoming environment…it really depends. Ohio is still a swing state and still has a Republican controlled congress. There aren’t statewide protections for LGBTQ+ folk and although Cleveland is one of the progressive bubbles in the state…it’s still Ohio. Less than three months after shooting a queer horror short film at a bar where I work, we were harassed by a religious right extremist group in the parking lot. I’ve been fortunate to find a community of creatives that I can depend on and come from affirming belief systems, and I refuse to let them go.

Several of your shorts have strong feminist and socially progressive themes. Do you believe that your sexuality informs your films? 

BJC: It absolutely informs my films. I’ve spent a lifetime watching films where I didn’t feel seen or they were told from a perspective that I’ve never experienced. The films I make are the stories I wish I had access to when I was younger.

Do you subscribe to queer readings of your films?

BJC: Absolutely. All of my films have queer themes, even the ones that aren’t overtly queer.

Have you interacted with many queer horror fans of your films? What has that experience been like?

BJC: I have! It’s always exciting to listen to people try and draw metaphors from my work to their own lived experiences. The greatest compliment, however, is when a queer actor gets to play a queer character and thanks me for allowing them to play a character they actually identify with. That always makes me feel good.

Labrys

You’re a very busy woman – you’re contributing a segment to the holiday anthology Deathcember and you’re shopping a mysterious queer horror short to festivals. What can you tell me about these projects?

BJC: I first and foremost have to thank Chelsea Stardust (All That We Destroy, Satanic Panic) for recommending Zach and I to the producers of Deathcember. We’re the only Midwest contributors of the American-based directors, and we shot our segment outdoors in 21-degree weather during an Ohio winter. Without giving away the plot, the title is “They Used To Laugh and Call Him Names.” I think that does a pretty good job at giving audiences an idea of what topic we’re tackling.

As far as my horror short, it’s called Labrys and it’s about a woman on her first date with another woman, and her journey to come to terms with who…and what she is. It was shot on a shoe-string budget, but I’m extremely proud of it. It’s Carrie meets X-Men on a lesbian first date.

Follow BJ on social media:

Queer Horror Director Showcase: Christopher Landon, Two Johns and Misunderstood Characters

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Name: Christopher Landon

Age: 44

Birth Place: Los Angeles, CA

Sexuality: Gay

Notable films: Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones (2014), Scout’s Guide to the Apocalypse (2015), Happy Death Day 2U (2017), Happy Death Day 2U (2019)

When did you know you were queer? When did you come out?

Christopher Landon: I knew I was different from an early age. Like a lot of queer little boys, I loved my sister’s Barbie dolls, I loved movies like Mommie Dearest and Big Business. I had boy-crushes in high school but I dismissed them as “a phase.” I finally came out when I was 22 after meeting my first boyfriend. I didn’t want to lead a double-life so I just did a big-ass coming out tour and told everyone in my orbit within about a week’s time. LOL.

How did you get into filmmaking?

CL: I have always been obsessed with movies. Especially horror. I made short films as a kid and studied film in college. I took an internship at Disney when I was about 18 and that’s where I really began to see a path to becoming a filmmaker.

Why do you make horror films?

CL:  Horror has always been a genre that intrigues me. It’s so versatile. You can Trojan-horse so many themes and ideas in a horror movie. I love the genre’s renegade status no matter how mainstream it seems to be now. It’s still punk rock and dangerous.

What films (queer or not) have made a significant impact on you and your work? In what way?

CL: If I had to choose two filmmakers that have influenced me the most I would say John Carpenter and John Hughes. They’re totally different Johns but each made an equal and profound impact on my childhood and my creative sensibilities. Carpenter is the master of suspense. I have seen The Thing and Halloween a million times and they never stop educating me. John Hughes captured something so few filmmakers ever can – the pain and awkwardness of adolescence. But even in a movie like Trains, Planes, and Automobiles he could make you laugh and cry – often within seconds of each other. I love the quirk and heart he brought to his work.

You’ve worked on two high profile projects with Blumhouse (the Happy Death Day films). What is it like to helm a franchise for a major studio? How progressive or welcoming is the industry for queer creators right now?

CL:  I’ve been in this business for a minute now and I would say we’re living in a good moment as far as change and diversity go. My sexuality hasn’t played too great a role in my work, in terms of being marginalized, but I have always strived to bring a queer perspective to my movies. That’s not to say I haven’t encountered resistance in the past, but I think people in general are just looking for good stories no matter where (or who) they come from.

That said, we still need more diversity. When I was growing up, I didn’t see people like me in movies unless they were the brunt of a joke. That’s changing, but it can change a lot more.

Do you believe that your sexuality informs your films? If yes, in what way? If no, is that a conscious decision?

CL: OH FUCK YES. Hahahahaha. I mean, I made a studio zombie movie with a Britney sing-along and a horror set-piece while Dolly Parton’s 9-5 blared. My shit is G-A-Y. But I also think growing up queer and feeling like I didn’t quite belong really reinforced a strong sense of empathy in me. My characters are often misunderstood and stand a little outside of the world around them.

When Trace Thurman and I covered Happy Death Day for the Horror Queers podcast, we found a really sweet story about a gay fan thanking you for including the character of Tim because it normalized gay people. Have you interacted with many other queer horror fans of your films? What has that experience been like? 

CL: Absolutely. I love interacting with queer horror fans. There are SO many of us out there. I feel a kinship to them. It’s so important to be seen.

With Happy Death Day 2U now out on VOD and Blu, what’s next for you? 

CL: I have a really fun movie I’m about to go shoot. I can’t say what it is yet, but it has the best gay character ever. He is out, proud and fucking badass. I can’t wait to make this one.

Follow Christopher on social media:

Queer Horror Director Showcase: Parker Brennon, ‘Carnival of Souls’ and “…Can Kill” Horror

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Name: Parker Brennon

Age: 26

Birth Place: Gahanna, OH

Sexuality: Gay

Notable films: Haunt Me (2017), Elise’s Nightmare (2017), Below the Trees (2018)

When did you know you were queer? When did you come out?

Parker Brennon: In elementary school, I started hanging out with girls instead of boys. These opposite-sex friendships prompted some boys to call me a fag, long before I had an understanding of my own sexuality. Around age 11, I realized I was gay, and it was extremely difficult to accept. I didn’t want to be the thing I was accused of being. Finally at age 15, I told my sister I was bisexual. It wasn’t true, but it was easier than saying “gay.” I found an online boyfriend living in New York and eventually told my mom about him. She was very kind and hugged me while I cried. That was a turning point. I started coming out to my friends and being more open.

How did you get into filmmaking?

PB:  My best friend, my siblings, and I started a series of terrible shorts back in 2007. We would basically pick a noun and add “Can Kill.” Camp Can Kill. Looks Can Kill. Musicals Can Kill. The movie’s title determined its plot. I did all the video recording and editing, and it was ridiculous fun. I wouldn’t willingly share those movies with anyone today, but that’s how I began.

Why do you make horror films?

PB:  Every genre has films I enjoy, but to write and direct something myself, I need some ardent energy. Horror is what best fuels my fire. I love an eerie atmosphere. I love a sense of adventure. I love seeing women on screen who are compelling villains or survivors overcoming terrifying obstacles. Stories that contain these elements are easily born in the horror genre.

What films (queer or not) have made a significant impact on you and your work? In what way?

PB:  Carnival of Souls (1962) is my number one. I adore Candace Hilligoss’ bizarre performance. Her cold, detached character is so fascinating and weirdly relatable. Best of all, she’s plunged into an eerie, supernatural story. It’s not at all a “perfect” film, but that’s part of its charm. I also love Silent Hill (2006), largely because the video games hold an extremely special place in my heart. The nightmarish world is an ideal horror sandbox and evokes wonderfully dark adventures.

How progressive or welcoming is the industry for queer creators right now?

PB:  It’s much better than it was in the past. Although, I spend more time thinking about inequality on screen. I recently watched The Town That Dreaded Sundown (2014). I liked it, but I couldn’t help noticing that three hetero couples have sex scenes, and a gay couple is murdered before doing anything. It was a reminder that American culture relishes seeing sexual straight people, but “gay stuff” (especially between men) is always a sore subject. I can almost hear Aunt Sassy shouting “I don’t need to see that!”

Do you believe that your sexuality informs your films? If yes, in what way? If no, is that a conscious decision?

PB: Yes, my sexuality hugely impacts my work. I’ve never written a scene with heterosexual sex or kissing. My life contains an interminable amount of these displays, and if I’m in charge of a story, I’ll leave that out every time. So far, the films I’ve directed have a mix of sexually ambiguous and straight characters, but I’ll include more obviously queer people in my future work.

Do you subscribe to queer readings of your films?

PB: Hell yes! Haunt Me has more gay energy than my other shorts, but I hesitate to recommend it because my directorial skills were weaker then. Although, it was lucky enough to get over 120,000 views on YouTube, so I guess things worked out for that one.

Have you interacted with many queer horror fans of your films? What has that experience been like?

PB: Mostly online, but yes! I love it when queer people write encouraging comments or connect with me on Twitter. It’s great to be part of that community. On Twitter and Letterboxd, I often interact with queer horror fans who would otherwise be absent from my day-to-day life.

You’ve been putting out horror shorts with some regularity over the last few years. Do you plan to make the leap into horror features in the future?

PB: Absolutely. After Winter’s Blood is finished, my next project will be a feature. I wrote a feature-length version of Below the Trees, but it requires more financing than I can provide alone. Rather than dwell on that roadblock, I decided to come up with a lower budget idea. In January, I visited LA and met with a writer/producer I love. I pitched the low budget idea to her, and she’s excited about it. We’re developing that screenplay this year, and hopefully, it’ll end up being my feature directorial debut.

Follow Parker on social media:

12th Annual Off-Camera Film Festival Wrap Up

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The Mastercard Off-Camera Film Festival is one of the largest festivals in Eastern Europe, running annually for approximately 10 days in late April. This year I had the pleasure of attending the fest when it ran from April 26 – May 5. Taking place in Krakow, the beautiful cultural capital of Poland, the 12th iteration of the festival was divided into several different sections, including:

  • Making Way: This is the Main Competition of the festival, which recognizes a director’s first or second film. The Main Competition carries a purse of $100K US for the winner, which was decided by a jury comprised of industry veterans such as Allan Starski, Anna B. Sheppard, Ellen Kuras and Roger Mitchell. The winning film was Sons of Denmark (Salim, 2019), a political thriller about the rise of extremism and anti-immigrant hatred in Copenhagen which contains many uncomfortable real-life parallels.

  • The Polish Feature Film Competition, which carries a prize of PLN 100, is reserved exclusively for Polish films. The jury was comprised of Marcia Gay Harden, Laura Rosenthal, Kim Yutani and Jonathan Romney. The winning film was Dolce Fine Giornata / Sweet End of Day (Borcuch, 2019) about a Polish Jewish Nobel Prize Winner living in Tuscany who causes a major disturbance after an awards speech goes politically awry. (Unfortunately there is no English trailer available)

  • The rest of the festival screenings are divided across a number of thought-provoking, topical and/or dialogue-prompting sections such as Where Men?; American Indies; Cops & Robbers; It’s Raining Men; Reality, No Thank You; Roses are Red, Violets are Blue; Sport is Health and Us vs Them.

Film Reviews

Polish Feature Film Competition

I split my time between two sections: the Main Competition and the Polish Feature Film Competition. I made a deliberate attempt to seek out the Polish films in particular because I was uncertain how many of them would be able to secure international distribution.

One fascinating film was Ciemno, Prawie Noc / Dark, Almost Night (Lankosz, 2019), a moody thriller that’s a cross between The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and HBO’s Sharp Objects. The film, an adaptation of Joanna Bator’s well-known Polish novel of the same name, follows reporter Alicja (Magdalena Cielecka) as she returns home for the first time in years in the wake of her abusive childhood (revealed slowly in nightmares). Alicja has chosen to return at this particular moment in order to investigate a series of child abductions, but there’s a great deal more to the crimes, her own story and the town than meets the eye.

Dark, Almost Night is not a perfect film, in that it frequently struggles to balance Alicja’s backstory with the strange events occurring around town. The film is overstuffed with characters and subplots, including a group of mysterious cat-women, Nazis, and Alicja’s mysterious neighbour and his shady nephew, the latter of which Alicja begins sleeping with. I was amazed to learn after the screening that the film actually excises a great deal of the book’s content because it already feels like it’s bursting at the seams!

Still, there’s something incredibly evocative about the sumptuous visual aesthetic of the film, which walks a razor’s edge between adult fairytale and dark crime thriller. The film is certainly not for the faint of heart: there is a great deal of child abuse, rape and murder, but the grim and fatalistic tale is never boring and it is frequently gorgeous to look at. The subject matter alone makes me doubt whether the film will find North American distribution, but if mystery and thriller fans can ever lay eyes on it, Dark, Almost Night is worth checking out.

No less ambitious, but even more confronting, is Jagoda Szelc’s second film, Monument (2018). The film, which doubles as a thesis project for real life actors graduating from the National Film School in Łódź, is an intersection between a workplace drama and Lynchian nightmare.

Monument follows a group of hospitality students completing an internship in a rundown hotel who are put through their paces by a severe authoritarian manager, but the film eschews a straightforward narrative in favour of monotonous, repetitive and surreal sequences that hint at there is something more nefarious and otherworldly.

Playing out like a waking dream, Monument boasts outstanding visual sequences and incredible sound design, but the experimental (occasionally non-sensical) plot and philosophical diatribes will undoubtedly turn off a mainstream audiences. Personally I loved the film’s audacity, particularly Szelc’s pre-screening video introduction, where she encouraged audiences to avoid resisting or unpacking the film in favour of simply letting go, accepting the confusion and acknowledging different interpretations. Not every director has the gumption, but Monument wears its ambition on its sleeve, and for that it and Szelc deserve recognition. Of all of the films that I saw at Off Camera, this is one of two films that I really hope gets distributed in North America.

Making Way Main Competition Films

While Sons of Denmark took home the biggest prize of the festival, it was by far my least favourite of the four Making Way films that I watched (in brief: the first half is great and then it falls into hysterical melodrama and the resolution is laughable and desperate to solicit an emotional reaction). It’s disappointing considering the other three films were far superior, including the one Polish film in contention, Adrian Panek’s Wilkolak / Werewolf (2018). 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZKbQxP76KWw

Comparing the film to Lord of the Flies diminishes the achievement of this post-WWII film about a group of orphans who are liberated from the concentration camps and left to their own devices at a mansion in the woods. There’s a great deal more going on that than a simple redux of Golding’s “children forming their own society” narrative.

Werewolf quietly tackles a little known piece of history while crafting a smart, frequently nail-biting narrative of children imprisoned in a decaying manor by a pack of blood-thirsty, Nazi-trained dogs living in the wild. The performances are uniformly excellent, particularly Sonia Mietielica as Hanka, the defacto “adult” of the group who is required to parent the others against her will because she is the oldest.

Bonus points for making the dogs legitimately terrifying without resorting to CGI. I wouldn’t recommend this film to anyone with a prevailing fear, however; you may never pet another stray again.

Another unnerving thriller is Swiss film Der Laufer / Midnight Runner (Baumgartner, 2018). Terrifyingly based on real events, the film follows Jonas Widmer (Max Hubacher), an Olympic running hopeful whose late night runs are secretly escalating from low level attacks on random women into something much, much darker.

Baumgartner structures the first part of the film in a deliberately confusing fashion so that it is unclear when events are happening, including the death of Jonas’ beloved brother and a crushing second place finish in a significant race. Unable to process his emotions, or confide in his well-meaning girlfriend, Jonas begins running late at night. One night he tries to help a woman who has tripped on the sidewalk, but when she berates him, he impulsively steals her purse. From there the aggression and violence of his late-night attacks escalate, affecting his relationship and his training, even as Jonas struggles to understand or control his own actions.

It’s an amazing lead performance by Hubacher, who manages to engender both sympathy for Jonas as well as condemnation for his increasingly despicable acts. Midnight Runner is a great, albeit difficult film that perfectly encapsulates the systemic dangers of toxic masculinity, entitlement and the justifiable fear that women have of men.

The single best film that I saw at Off Camera was Dronningen / Queen of Hearts (el-Toukhy, 2018). The Danish/Swiss co-production is about Anne (Trine Dryholm), a high profile lawyer with a seemingly perfect family who torpedos her entire life when she begins sleeping with her troubled stepson, Gustav.

Queen of Hearts is a character study of an impulsive, extremely intelligent woman. Anne knows what she is doing is wrong because she not only hides her infidelity, but she literally works exclusively on cases of child endangerment at her legal practice. Dryholm is absolutely phenomenal in the lead role: her Anne is complicated, messy and horrible and the drama she wreaks as a result of her selfish actions is compulsively watchable. The fact that el-Toukhy and co-screenwriter Maren Louise Käehne lean into the moral murkiness and allow the story to play out without condemnation or judgment speaks to the confidence of the filmmaking on display. Queen of Hearts definitely isn’t a feel good story, but I loved every second of its terribleness and I can’t wait for the film to break out as it continues to play the festival circuit.

Festival News

This year the Off Camera festival office took up a new residence just off of the historical town square in downtown Krakow. While the newer, more modern interior hall doesn’t have the same patio and old world charm as its predecessor, the larger size is roomier and more accommodating for guests, which is a welcome change when you’re rubbing elbows with the cream of the Polish film industry crop during the industry parties each night.

In addition to film screenings and industry social opportunities, the festival also offers workshops, panel discussions and networking events designed to bring together individuals working in the film industry. At one of the networking event, I learned that the Off Camera Foundation is running a project, funded by the EU, called “Film In Malopolska” through June 2019. The project centers on the promotion of small and medium-sized productions in the region in both domestic and foreign markets, marketing Malopolska as an ideal region for film productions. Attendees at the event hinted that entrepreneurs in the film industry plan to take advantage of the program, which should bring even more productions to the Malopolska region in the near future.

Finally, as a first time attendee of the festival, one of the most impressive features that I want to highlight is Festival TV, a news feature that is updated daily and run in front of film screenings. The ~5-7 minute promo features notable items from the previous day, including interviews with directors and industry panels and footage from the live musical acts that perform nightly, as well as previews of what audiences can expect the following day. It’s a professionally produced piece of news entertainment that keeps the festival feeling fresh each day. It also demonstrates the level of time and investment that staff are putting in to make the experience of festival goers memorable and engaging. Other festivals could learn a thing or two about such ambitious efforts.

The Off Camera Film Festival runs each April in Krakow, Poland. For more information, visit the festival website here.