Barry Jenkins: ‘Where I come from, people just… | Little White Lies

Interviews

Bar­ry Jenk­ins: Where I come from, peo­ple just don’t have the means to make a film’

11 Feb 2017

Words by Adam Woodward

Portrait of a person with glasses and a red shirt against a dark background, set in a circular frame.
Portrait of a person with glasses and a red shirt against a dark background, set in a circular frame.
The Moon­light direc­tor dis­cuss­es the val­ue of film school and find­ing a per­son­al voice.

It was 2008’s fes­ti­val hit Med­i­cine for Melan­choly that put the name Bar­ry Jenk­ins on the map of many per­cep­tive cinephiles, but few could’ve pre­dict­ed that he would make such a stel­lar return. Moon­light is his stun­ning, erot­ic trip­tych about a black Florid­i­an man wrestling with his emo­tions across three gen­er­a­tions, and is now one of the main 2017 award contenders.

LWLies: Do you have mem­o­ries of going to the cin­e­ma with your mother?

Jenk­ins: Not with my moth­er but I do remem­ber always lik­ing movies. Even when I dis­cov­ered there was a film pro­gramme at Flori­da State, the thing that I thought was, Wow I’ve always real­ly loved movies, I should check that out’. It’s kind of cliché because my films aren’t escapism. I don’t remem­ber see­ing any kids films. I remem­ber going to see The Colour Pur­ple, Aliens, Ter­mi­na­tor 2. Real­ly big and loud Hol­ly­wood films.

Why do you think you’ve end­ed up not mak­ing those kinds of movies?

When I first got into film I realised it was a great vehi­cle to express myself. But when I start­ed film school I was in a small class of about 30 kids but everybody’s movies looked and sound­ed the same. And that’s because we all grew up watch­ing the same things. It’s not like today when, if you have a hard dri­ve, you can just shoot until you fill it up. We were very lim­it­ed when it came to how much we were allowed to shoot. I didn’t know any­thing, I didn’t know you need­ed light to expose film. I also thought, I’m gonna watch the shit that nobody else is watch­ing, and that was for­eign cinema.

This idea of peo­ple going through that film school process togeth­er, you would expect to see dif­fer­ent ideas and dif­fer­ent types of storytelling.

You know, it’s weird. It wasn’t a melt­ing pot of per­son­al­i­ties, but again, the US dom­i­nates the film indus­try. Cin­e­ma is a glob­al econ­o­my, a glob­al art form. But the things that have the mar­ket­ing mon­ey to real­ly push above the noise are these huge Hol­ly­wood stu­dio pro­duc­tions, some of which are good but most of which are not. But they’re not meant to be. I like to think your influ­ences don’t dic­tate your aes­thet­ic, but in this case, our influ­ences were dic­tat­ing our aes­thet­ic. It was when Wes Ander­son was becom­ing pop­u­lar, and there were so many Wes Ander­son knock offs at film school. And I was like, I’m not gonna do this. I’ll find some­thing else.’

What does Amer­i­can cin­e­ma look like to you?

To me Amer­i­can cin­e­ma is… dif­fer­ent. I think in the US there’s a lot of ener­gy and oppor­tu­ni­ty from a craft where peo­ple are extreme­ly tal­ent­ed. I think there just has to be more diver­si­ty of thoughts to approach which sto­ry forms are wor­thy of fund­ing and sup­port but I think it’s a great time to be an Amer­i­can film­mak­er because the tools have become so acces­si­ble and the avenues to get the work out have become so var­ied and expan­sive I think there’s a lot of oppor­tu­ni­ty. The prob­lem is I don’t know that cin­e­ma is as impor­tant to pub­lic dis­course as it was 10 years ago, 20 years ago cer­tain­ly 30 years ago.

Why do you think that is?

You and I both have screens in our pock­ets that have a high­er res­o­lu­tion than any TV you could have bought 10 years ago. There’s just so much more stim­u­lus but oppor­tu­ni­ty. Cin­e­ma as an art form has just reached its cen­tu­ry mark and a lot of sto­ries have been told and, not that peo­ple are over it but peo­ple are very savvy so it’s very hard to cre­ate some­thing they haven’t seen before or some­thing they haven’t thought of before.

Peo­ple are cyn­i­cal as well.

Peo­ple are very cyn­i­cal. The world is on fire. So if you’re mak­ing a film and there’s not a qual­i­ty to it that is a burn­ing pas­sion, a burn­ing desire, then it’s not important.

The world is con­nect­ed like nev­er before, and it feels like peo­ple are more inter­est­ed in dif­fer­ent cul­tures and dif­fer­ent modes of storytelling.

There is a hunger for it and I think there’s always been a hunger for it. There used to be like four cin­e­ma chains and three pre­mi­um cable chan­nels and it was all very con­cen­trat­ed. Now it’s so var­ied that there is lit­er­al­ly more con­tent sources than there is con­tent to fill the space. I think what’s hap­pened is voic­es in the past may not have fit into those four or five finite spaces. Now, if you don’t fit here you just go over there. The task now is is to find a pro­duc­tion mod­el that works if you don’t sell or play in a cer­tain space. My first film cost $15000 on a cam­era that cost $4000 and if we tried to make the film four years pri­or it would have been impos­si­ble. Peo­ple who come from where I come from don’t have access to the tools nec­es­sary to make a film. The voice is there. The sto­ry is there. But the means to tell it have always been beyond our reach and I think now the tools to make a qual­i­ty film are much more attain­able. These bar­ri­ers to entry no longer exist.

Is it your job to think about the audience?

It is and it isn’t. I want to be con­sid­er­ate of the audi­ence but I don’t want to make deci­sions that antic­i­pate the reac­tion of an audi­ence. The audi­ence comes to the film to see what I feel, what the actors feel. I think the type of movie­go­ers I make films for don’t go to the movies expect­ing me to make things that they want. We’re putting out ener­gy and the audi­ence is respond­ing to it. It shouldn’t go in reverse. We work in a very priv­i­leged art­form. This shit is expen­sive. So if you’re not con­sid­er­ing the audi­ence in some way, if you antag­o­nise the audi­ence to a degree that is sim­ply too far for them to get a foothold in the work, nobody’s going to come and see your film.

Nobody’s going to rec­om­mend your film to any­one else and you’re not going to get to make more films. Now is that fair to think of that when you’re cre­at­ing a work of art? No. But mak­ing some­thing that costs hun­dreds of thou­sands or mil­lions of dol­lars, we can’t just burn that mon­ey. You have to make con­ces­sions so that peo­ple will be will­ing to watch and be inter­est­ed in that piece. And to fur­ther that peo­ple will be moti­vat­ed, incen­tivised and inter­est­ed to pay to watch the piece because these things cost mon­ey to make.

What do you love about movies?

I love how movies make the world seem like a very small place. I was talk­ing to a reporter the oth­er day about the use of Cae­tano Veloso’ in Moon­light. That’s an homage to Wong Kar-wai and Hap­py Togeth­er – a very overt homage I must say, but I want­ed to be upfront and hon­est about how there’s this film­mak­er work­ing in Asia whose cin­e­ma I love and here I have my char­ac­ters in inner city Mia­mi and the emo­tions they feel are the same. Total­ly the same. These peo­ple will nev­er ever meet and yet through this art, through cin­e­ma we can show how much alike they are. They’re a world apart but they’re so so close. That’s what I love about movies.

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