Camille Thoman is an award-winning director, writer and editor, known for Never Here (2017), The Longest Game (2017) and Falling Objects (2006). I recently had the chance to ask her about her diverse films. Here’s what she had to say.
Hello Camille and thanks for taking the time to talk with me. Let’s start with you. For those who don’t know, who is Camille Thoman?
Camille Thoman: I am a writer/director, a NY Native, grew up in the city. I spent a decade in the UK and I think this influenced the tone of much of my work. In my twenties I was a performance artist, performed at The Young Vic in London, toured the UK. I started making short films in my twenties and the rest is history.
I have to say, I’m a fan, and I so appreciate this opportunity as I was struck by both your movies. let’s begin with Never Here, a disturbing psychological thriller. First, could you offer a brief summary and then tell me about the style choice. It’s really unusual.
CT: Thank you. Never Here will have its UK release this July. For a summary, here is our synopsis.
Installation artist Miranda Fall follows, photographs and documents the lives of strangers to create her art. One night her secret lover witnesses a violent act from Miranda’s apartment window. To protect his identity, Miranda poses as the primary witness, making statements to the police about a crime she did not see. She begins to create a new piece of work, based on these circumstances. This simultaneously selfish and selfless act sends Miranda into a maze of doubt and fear, blurring the lines between artist and subject. Writer-director Camille Thoman’s debut feature immerses viewers in a taut psychological thriller, with sumptuous imagery and sonic clues that steadily seep into the subconscious mind. Lines of morality blur and nothing is as it seems in this eerily fascinating exploration of identity, voyeurism and loss of self.
As for style choice…
I am very interested in people’s notions of their lives as fixed. In various film and theater genres, (for instance The Longest Game) I tend to explore a version of the world as in a constant state of change and flux. What appears to be fixed – foremostly, identity – is not as static as we would like to believe. Never Here poses the question: are all fixed concepts of identity “constructs” and fictions? The protagonist’s sense of self is assaulted from every angle. The construct of her identity is chipped away at little by little – this happens visually, situationally, emotionally, and is often forged by the camera as well as the plot. I wanted to tell the story of what happens to someone when the signposts of their identity are removed brick by brick. I was very interested in how to cross the character’s boundaries with the camera and play visually with the blurring of her distinct individuation. I was enthralled by the idea of looking at all this through the lens of a genre movie – marrying a suspenseful plot line with the terror of losing one’s own self.
The world of the film is center stage in Never Here. The world needed to feel present day, and be yet out-of-time. Subtly off. In pre-production, we spent a lot of time location scouting. Luckily, I had an art department from heaven, headed up by Chris Trujillo, who was nominated for an Emmy for Stranger Things. Chris, DP Seb Wintero and I spoke a lot about the eeriness of the world being something that builds cumulatively. I wanted the world to be initially accepted at face value as “normal” but that as the film proceeds the viewer might say to themselves – hang on a sec, where are these people? Where are we?
READ MORE: Review of Camille Thoman’s Never Here
While watching, I couldn’t help but find myself thinking of Curtis Hanson’s excellent The Bedroom Window (1987). As the writer and director of Never Here, what were some of the influences behind your story?
CT: I would say my biggest influence was the work of novelist Paul Auster. Primarily, The New York Trilogy, but other works as well. When I first read the NY trilogy at the age of 20 or so, I felt like the novelist had reached from the pages of the novel and squeezed my heart. He was able to create detective fiction – intrigue! enthralling suspense – and then connect out from the pages of the book in 3D and reference me sitting there reading it. It was a shocking moment, to be funneled into a “detective fiction” set up, and then realize that the author is talking about much more than just his plot. I thought— this is something I want to do in cinema. I want to entertain and titillate, but also ask questions of the viewer, not just allow them to be subsumed in the narrative. Other influences include Nick Roeg‘s AMAZING Don’t Look Now (my favorite film) and (Francis Ford) Coppola’s The Conversation. I saw Bedroom Window when I was a kid and I have a very clear memory of Huppert looking down from the window naked. Subconsciously I’m sure Bedroom Window inspired me a lot, but I wasn’t aware of it as I was writing.
You cast the always intoxicating Mireille Enos in the lead, and she does, what I think, is career-defining work, fearless in her portrayal of a woman teetering with imbalance. Would love to hear your thoughts on Enos and her performance.
CT: Thank you. Love hearing that. Well I think Mireille is one of our greatest living actresses. I wrote the protagonist’s part for Mireille, (I called the protagonist Miranda after her, though Mireille is nothing like Miranda). The part of Miranda calls for someone who can be very visceral (as she can) and also at times quite stylized (as she can). Miranda is in EVERY scene of the film and very few actresses could pull of what she did. She’s also a very lovely person to work with.
The film orbits around art and the interpretation of such. As an artist yourself, how important was interpretation for you, meaning tasking the audience with making their own judgments?
CT: Oh, essential. The whole film comes down to the idea that there is no “objective” reality, so to speak. We only have the construct of our interpretations. So it’s very important that the audience draw their own conclusions. In life – we don’t know “what happened”. We think we went to party, and everybody loved us – or someone hated us – and we find out afterwards we were wrong – what we thought happened did not happen. Other times, we get the feedback that our feeling of “what happened” was right on the money. We are always left to wonder if what we think is going is actually going on. Why should we have art that’s different from experience? Art where we “know” what happened? As if that is something that exists? It’s an odd expectation.
In the film, Enos, as Miranda, states that she is influenced by chance, a running theme throughout. How closely does this resemble your own philosophy?
CT: I think…that her attitude towards chance is interesting….but not responsible. I’m somewhere in the middle. Miranda has a philosophy of “following the strings” as she puts it. That mirrors my own philosophy and is represented in The Longest Game. When I was making The Longest Game, I listened to the voice of the film gods, telling me, for example, to film the myriad of people around me discussing volcanoes time and time again over the course of 6 months. Everywhere I went, people were talking about volcanoes of all things. At the time, I did not understand consciously why I decided to film these volcano conversations, or what role they would play in a film about paddle tennis, but I followed the strings (i.e. my instinct or the voices of the film gods) and those volcanoes had a part to play in our movie. On the other hand, I am a proponent of personal responsibility, I would never utter the words, “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, everything happens for a reason,” (I hear that kind of thing a lot) because it doesn’t feel responsible. We need to make conscious choices and go after what we want.
From chance, I move on to change, the subject at the heart of your latest film The Longest Game, a documentary completed a few years ago and gaining a lot of acclaim. Tell us what it’s about.
CT: Ah yes…Change. The force that governs all life. In a way all my work to date has been about the constancy of Change. The Longest Game chronicles the lives of the Dorset “one o’clock players”, a group of men in their 80s, who play a daily game of paddle tennis through the changing of the seasons in Dorset, Vermont. Through the daily game of these charming and delightful old men, we explore how people of all ages share the same hopes, dreams and fears, and are all subject to the relentless force of change that governs all life.
READ MORE: Review of Camille Thoman’s The Longest Game
How did you come upon this story?
CT: I met the “one o’clock players” one day several years ago when my mother, who has a home in Dorset VT (where the film is set), invited me to play ‘paddle tennis’. It was about one p.m., and we ran into a group of friends in their eighties who play paddle every day at one pm. I was immediately charmed. One thing very appealing about spending time around octogenarians is that they have a different perspective on life. Despite their vitality, they are inevitably facing their mortality. The structures they once lived within – building careers, relationships, wealth, reputations – are beginning to fall away. The Longest Game explores the duality between the arbitrary or artificial “structures” that separate us as human beings, and the universal forces of Change and Love.
I was truly moved by these men and women and their stories, and how deftly you ran parallel the metaphorical lineage of the game they play and the lives they led. You choose to keep mostly silent and unseen as the filmmaker, rather than inserting yourself into the interviews, allowing these people to speak on their own, which I found welcoming. I’m sure this was a difficult choice, one every documentarian must make. Could you give us some insight into that decision?
CT: No…not really difficult for me. It was very important that the idea of making the film WAS in the The Longest Game. I never wanted to hide that we were there, that we were making a film, recording these men. Meaning – we are exploring in The Longest Game the metaphor of the “game” or “play” of Life. As Shakespeare put it: all the world’s a stage! So the creation of the film and the idea of performance, being on a set or a stage was important. But I didn’t feel you had to see me. I preferred to film Elizabeth (Elizabeth Yng-Wong, the producer) who was the mouthpiece and representation in the film of people of other ages, other genders and races. The unfolding of the beautiful relationship between Elizabeth and our cast was something I wanted to show – how people of all ages, genders and races are much more alike than they are different when it really comes down to it.
There was obviously great potential in sensationalizing the deeper sentiments of these elderly people, however, you really keep that well-balanced, the film authentic and organic. There’s no score that prods us in one direction, and you always keep it a celebration rather than something somber. For a topic that most people avoid, it’s refreshing to see it played out so. It was inspiring while deeply reflective. Don’t really have a question here, but am open to hear how your brief journey with them affected you.
CT: Oh gosh, thank you, David. Beautiful words. My journey through the making of The Longest Game was about Love. In so many ways. I fell in love with the men, with their wives, with Elizabeth. It was one of the most…pure experiences of my life. It was extremely pure – not sure why that word is coming up but its the right one. I LOVED those old men very much. We all felt it, how special the connections we were making were. It’s like the film itself gave us all an excuse to really get to know the tickings of the heart, the inner workings, of another human being. It was a space of total non-judgment. I’ve not experienced that before.
What about the Independent film market do find attractive, and, as a filmmaker, how has this benefited you creatively?
CT: Well its wonderful to make films I love. I am privileged to put be able to make things I love and put them into the community.
What’s next for you? Any upcoming projects you can share with us?
CT: Yes. I am writing an elevated horror film, David. Also tossing around a few more genre ideas. Crime yes, but also, memory, love, the passage of time, change – my favorite subjects. Next I want to make something that has a little more reach than Never Here and The Longest Game. I’d like to do something with more structure, that I can elevate and make into something really special, but that has enough structure to go further into the world and reach many people.
Our site dedicates a lot of content to great moments in film, discussing influences and impact on cinema. Are there any movie moments that have had influence on you?
CT: Ohhh so many. Hmmm. I would say of all the films I have seen, Don’t Look Now has had the biggest influence on me. And perhaps The Shining.
Don’t Look Now is an unparalleled example of character nuance and depth in a genre structure. I first saw the film as a stunned teenager. It was the first time I can remember being aware of the details that create mood in cinematic language. The mysterious bathroom attendant, the shuttered windows of Venice, the sheets covering the furniture in the hotel lobby (which I stole in Never Here!) – these details enthralled me. As for The Longest Game – Werner Hertzog‘s Grizzly Man opened my eyes to what a “documentary” can be. A documentary can explore much more than facts, social change – I didn’t know that before I saw Grizzly Man. The film was a life changing experience for me. I didn’t speak for several hours after I saw it.
Thanks again for talking with me. I truly hope our paths cross again soon. Best of luck with The Longest Game.
CT: David, these are some of the most thoughtful questions I have ever been asked by a member of the press. I am truly grateful to be in correspondence with you and so happy to represented on this beautiful site! I look forward to continuing to read your wonderful writing for years to come!