Intersectionality is the Future of Rewarding Film, Period.

The Body Remembers When the World Broke Open is a feature film about indigenous women going on a journey together in Canada, co-created by Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers and Kathleen Hepburn, and starring Tailfeathers and first-time actress Violet Nelson.  The film covers abuse, foster care, reproductive rights, shame, and cycles, all within the eyes of the indigenous experience. The film, as Tailfeathers and Hepburn have talked about in multiple interviews, is carefully constructed with the subjects in mind.  The film’s documentary-style “one-take” shooting is done from both a technical, and emotional standpoint. Although I want to tie a bit of subject and film-technique into this post, I really want to focus on authorship, and how it made this film what it is.  

In a Hollywood post-screening interview (linked above), Tailfeathers talked about how the film is inspired by an event that really happened to her.  She expressed that it had a profound impact on her life, so much so that in another interview with Hollywood First Look Features she explained that she sat with the story for a few years before she felt ready to create the film.  In this way, it is already so clear how authorship affects this story. The woman who co-wrote, co-directed, and co-starred in the film was a part of the actual experience of something like this. It is undeniable to see how personal connection and care can transform authorship in a piece of art- certainly in film.  

A clear example of how this personal experience shaped Tailfeathers’ authorship was in the scene depicted above.  Áila (on the right) and Rosie (on the left) crash into each other on the sidewalk, each of them experiencing their own separate version of distress.  The way that their meeting and fleeing from the abuser is depicted is raw and real in a way that immediately impacted me from the other side of the screen.  I was tense, riled up, and holding my breath. I was worried for Rosie’s bare feet on the road, and for Áila’s anxiety. Every moment that Áila looked back, I felt the fear of knowing that a dangerous man could be following you.  The scene was long and without cuts, but this added even more to the truth of the moment. I’ve been chased and stalked by men on the street before with other women, and this scene was eerie in how truthful it really was. I doubt this scene would have spoken to me this much if it didn’t come from an author who had also experienced and lived this.  

The technical elements of this film are very much nurtured in authorship.  In the same post-screening interview mentioned earlier, both Tailfeathers and Hepburn speak to a question about the reasoning and inspiration behind the lack of cuts (only 13 in the body of the film!) and what it means to them.  Hepburn, who’s IMDb page shows her overwhelming focus towards camerawork and behind-the-camera film elements, used her experience to craft a work capable of bringing the audience into the room with the characters. She talked about how the actors performed the entire film in one go, much like a theatrical performance, and how the cinematographer would actually switch to the next camera of film through 12 choreographed breaks in the work, allowing for this smooth motion of live experience to continue.  Though both Tailfeathers and Hepburn are soft-spoken in their interviews, it’s clear that Hepburn is passionate about every choice being for the benefit of the performance and the method. She says in the interview that she didn’t want the film to feel like it was showing off technically, which is such a huge breath of fresh air when compared to a lot of main-stream, big budget directors these days. What’s interesting is that, in my opinion, the purposeful understatement of the filming actually made it more impressive and poignant, without taking away a single thing from the story and focus of the film.  That’s the power of having the right people authoring an important story. Meanwhile, Tailfeathers has a history based in theatre, which helped inspire the way the piece was rehearsed, and eventually shot. She spoke to the power of a theatrical style of performance in the interview. Especially because Violet Nelson was brand new to acting, using a theatrical style of building the piece just made more sense, and also brought astonishing clarity to every moment they had together. Tailfeathers talked about beat work, which is the process of looking through the script and finding the motivation and connection from moment to moment for each scene.  Beat work is incredibly specific work, and requires many rehearsals and much analysis to do justice. The results speak for themselves. The rhythm and connection of every moment is both so unrelentingly realistic, and subtly artful. If you can’t tell, I might be in love with this film. It’s fun to see theatre people doing such amazing film work, because it really speaks to the power of combining artistic forces to create powerful pieces.  

The subjects of the film are by no means left out of the equation, and the authors lead the charge on this.  The lack of violence shown on camera, despite this involving an abuse story, is purposeful and deeply meaningful.  All three of the women on this project emphasize time and time again how important it is to them that women and indigenous people see this and know that their story is being heard.  The film doesn’t sugarcoat a single thing, but it also artfully skips scenes that would be triggering and unnecessary both for the general public, but more importantly, for the people who relate to the subjects of the film.  When a film is truly made for the people it talks about, this is what it should look like. Because the authors truthfully had indigenous women in mind, the story is crafted for their absorption. It’s not an easy watch, but it is watchable for someone who has been in that experience.  With recent problematic creations, like Thirteen Reasons Why, I feel this film deserves way more recognition as art that actually champions victims and their stories, and wants them to experience the film instead of being triggered by it.  These characters are realistically flawed, without demeaning their incredible strength and vibrancy. An importance emphasis in the film is on Rosie and her dynamic character. Rosie is underprivileged and undereducated, and also a fighter and undyingly compassionate.  Pieces like these start to break apart the stigma of undereducated and/or underprivileged labels equalling stupid and unimportant people. I dare you to watch Rosie sing to her belly in the bathroom of the safe house and not see her as a full, starkly important human being.  

Now that I’ve sung their praises, here’s something I want to close on.  Women like these women, creators like these creators, artists like these artists- they are going to help change and mold our world, if we let them.  That’s why I was absolutely thrilled to learn that Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers and Violet Nelson are cast in an upcoming female-driven sci-fi film called Night Raiders, produced by Taika Waititi, who is charging forward excellently into our new budding era of film.  The film is directed by Danis Goulet, a Cree woman with a background in casting and directing, who seems powerful and ready to tell more indigenous stories like this one coming up.  I cannot tell you how full my heart is to see creatives finding each other, and lifting each other into the spotlight to tell their stories. May the 2020s hold many, many more indigenous films, art pieces, and creators.