Director-writer-producer of documentaries, short films, and branded content, Erin Heidenreich’s voice has been shaped by the cultures she has immersed herself in across the globe. Set in the Tribal Areas of Pakistan, “Girl Unbound: The War To Be Her” is her first feature length documentary. Heidenreich directed the short documentary “Rising Suns” in The Democratic Republic of the Congo, a short film “The Stories We Tell Ourselves,” and has worked as a video journalist for Time in China, Vietnam, and Indonesia. She previously worked at Miramax Films and co-founded Cinetic Media.
“Girl Unbound: The War To Be Her” premiered at the 2016 Toronto International Film Festival on September 11.
W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.
EH: Maria Toorpakai Wazir disguised herself as a boy in order to play squash in Taliban-controlled Waziristan. When it was discovered that she was a girl, she received death threats from the Taliban and had to move to Toronto in order to continue to do the thing she loved most. This film follows her back to the Tribal Areas of Pakistan where she attempts to play openly under death threats in her home country.
W&H: What drew you to this story?
EH: I’m always drawn to stories about how women — and men — navigate their gender in a society where expectations of that role deliver something different than what feels right for that person.
Maria’s story is exceptional in that she comes from an area where she could literally be killed for just being who she is: a woman and an athlete. She has an amazingly supportive father who has always believed in gender equality.
The film brought up questions that are both personal and universal: How much would you risk to just be yourself?
W&H: What do you want people to think about when they are leaving the theater?
EH: I hope the film opens up hearts and minds to the idea that there are progressive and compassionate people everywhere, even in the conservative Taliban-controlled Waziristan.
It is Maria’s faith in Islam that guides her to do what she believes is right. I think this is an extremely important time to show a Muslim family who have put their lives on the line to do what is fundamentally good: treat all human beings with respect.
W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?
EH: Filming in the Tribal Areas of Pakistan was extremely dangerous. I put myself in harm’s way — by being a woman, an American, and carrying a camera without security or permission. The amount of mental gymnastics I had to juggle filming this story was incredible: capturing all elements of the story while moving undercover from place to place in the middle of the night, and managing the technical elements like checking to make sure the shot is in focus alongside worrying if the person your pointing the camera at is Taliban or an informer.
I had to constantly be on alert in trying to capture the footage I needed vs. having my peripheral vision or instinct tell me that I should be hiding the camera because the situation was too dangerous.
I had to adapt very quickly to the circumstances around me. At times when it became suddenly unsafe to have my camera exposed, my dupatta, the long veil that is common for women to wear in the Tribal Areas and indispensable to my cloaked identity, easily hid my camera and audio recorder as it sat on my lap.
In certain situations it was advantageous to have the women cinematographers with me as that would only be appropriate to film other women in their homes. At other times, the male cinematographer would be the only acceptable person in a formal situation with men present. In these moments when I could not openly communicate as my face was completely covered except my eyes, I would direct through eye contact alone and signal to him where the camera should be pointed. And with the slight movement of my head I was able to convey a wide shot, close up, or if the angle should change. Like all documentaries, you readjust to the situation.
W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.
EH: We financed the film through a combination of grants: Fork Films and Gucci Tribeca Documentary Fund, and private investors. I have an extremely resourceful producer, Cassandra Sanford-Rosenthal, who persevered before, during, and after filming to continuously raise funds for the film. It’s because of her determination and belief in this story and the filmmaking team that this film made it to the finish line.
W&H: What does it mean for you to have your film play at TIFF?
EH: It is not only the biggest honor I’ve ever received in my career, but Toronto is also the place of the film’s inception. After Maria received her initial death threats, a former World Champion of Squash, Jonathon Power, a native to Toronto helped get Maria out of Pakistan. We filmed there many times and it couldn’t be a better place to premiere this story.
W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?
EH: Best advice: follow your instinct. People say this all the time, but in my darkest, most emotionally wrought times in the edit, this is what worked. This gut instinct is also what I relied upon when I made constant decisions to keep going further and further into the remote Tribal Areas even when there was a large threat of danger. My gut said that this family would make the right decision if something happened. And when things got tense at times, my intuition paid off and I was safe. It was also the voice I listened to when I arrived at one particular location and everything felt off. I made the decision to move the crew out because I felt that something wasn’t safe for us.
Following my heart and my gut feeling is what brought me deeper into Maria’s story. She had a wonderful story on the surface, but it’s when I met her family and immersed myself in their day to day lives, living with them at home, and experienced their entire way of being — that I felt there could be something completely unique and universal about this film.
Worst advice: bleed for your film. This is a tricky one, because I believe that it really does take all of your creative energy to tell a story of this breadth and depth. Telling a story permeates the cellular makeup of who you are because you are living it day in and day out; the film seeped into my dreams every night.
But there is a certain amount of personal sacrifice filmmakers go through to make these films. This can be in the form of relationships with friends and family, physical well-being, financial stability, etc. But I believe in my — maybe naive or optimistic — soul that we can still tell stories of this nature and keep life somewhat healthy. Maybe not balanced. But hopefully not bleeding. That’s the only way this life and art form can be sustainable for filmmakers.
W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?
EH: Knowing when to listen and knowing when to speak. I gain so much from listening — from the characters in my films, to the crew, to the mentors and people around me. I am an individual consumed with curiosity for all things around me and the world. And listening teaches you so much. It also makes you a more empathetic filmmaker and open to ideas of those around you.
But, sometimes the documentarian hat of listening and questioning has to be countered with your own voice and opinion. You are making this film. You have a point of view. You are drawn to it for a reason and/or hired to do it for the person you are. Your voice matters. You don’t have to know everything, but you need to voice yourself when it’s important.
W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.
“The Piano” by Jane Campion. As a girl from a small town in Wisconsin, I felt like I had to always make myself less “me” to fit in. When I went to college at Northwestern University, I was exposed to so many films that I had never before imagined and it opened my world: “The Ice Storm,” “Kids,” “Hoop Dreams,” “Pulp Fiction” — and then I started to dig more to find films made by women.
When I discovered “The Piano,” I don’t think at that time I had the words for what I felt. There was a fundamental connective nature to it that I couldn’t explain then. A woman finding her voice, a woman being forced to live a life she didn’t control, a woman’s sexuality ruminating within her, and crafted in a way that emoted story rather than being told. That emotion in how we live and remember our stories deeply resonated with me.
W&H: Have you seen opportunities for women filmmakers increase over the last year due to the increased attention paid to the issue? If someone asked you what you thought needed to be done to get women more opportunities to direct, what would be your answer?
EH: Yes, it has increased. I was recently asked to be a part of a filmmaking series — I partially believe it was because they had no other women on the roster. I am OK with that. I want to be regarded for my work but being a woman fully influences the work I make. I also had the opportunity to show a trailer for “Girl Unbound” at The Athena Film Festival, [a celebration of women and leadership], early on in the filmmaking stages with some ridiculously amazing people on the panel including Chris Hegedus. Judith Helfand at Chicken & Egg was instrumental in this happening — and I received some of the most supportive and critical feedback that crucially fed the filmmaking yet to come.
In order to get more women opportunities to direct, we need to fund them more. There is so much evidence now with box office numbers that women do make lucrative films. There is a deep, sometimes unconscious bias that we have in society at large that stories by and about men are the only ones that sell. But it has been disproven time and time again.
We will overcome this two-fold: 1) by providing women with funds so that these stories can be told and 2) continuing to tell our stories about the filmmaking process. We need to undo the myth that [directors] need to fulfill a certain standard that is only based on the masculine version of storytelling and filmmaking: forceful, dictatorial, individual, and full of ego. There is another way that is more collaborative, life sustaining, supportive, emotional, and perhaps even closer to feeling the human experience: feminine storytelling. All storytellers are needed in this world.
