Laura Bari made her full-length debut with “Antoine,” a documentary about the imaginary life of a blind boy. The film was shown at 30 festivals around the world and won over a dozen prizes. She followed it up with “Ariel,” which is about a man who rebuilds his identity after a terrible accident, and completed her trilogy with “Primas.”

“Primas” premiered at the 2018 Hot Docs Canadian International Documentary Film Festival on May 2.

W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.

LB: “Primas” is a poetic portrait of two cousins, Rocío and Aldana, Argentinian teenagers who — in the wake of heinous acts of violence that interrupted their childhoods — will free themselves from the shadows of their past. Traveling in Argentina and Montréal, the girls come of age having revelatory experiences in their everyday lives; learning dance, mime, theater, circus, and visual arts.

They express through their bodies what only their imagination, their unique perspective, and their unshakable resilience can reveal.

W&H: What drew you to this story?

LB: The drive that lives in me is to give voice to common and exceptional people, creating a strong and delicious combination between the possible and the impossible, between the real and the unreal, between the visible and the invisible. [It’s] the drive that brings my unconquerable curiosity about how people think [and react] when they suffer the worst crimes. How do they feel, how do they learn, how do they get familiar with how society gives and takes back?

While the girls express themselves in a common project, [they become more resilient].

[I want audiences] to better understand what these two exceptional girls have taught me: how to be a person who survives, and not a victim, and how to keep fighting with a smile.

W&H: What do you want people to think about when they are leaving the theater?

LB: My intention is as simple as love is, as inspiring as Aldana and Rocío are, and as strong as expression and creation is — I wish for everybody to respect one another. I want them to cultivate simple respect for everybody: women, men, and children from any social status.

Through films, I wish [for everyone’s] mind, heart, and body [to] converge.

How amazing would it be if every day we were determined to take a moment of our intentions to frame a more coherent way to act, to choose, and to build a common and better world?

W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?

LB: Taking the chance to reveal the present, focusing on the transformation, on the change, and not in the past. To keep using a poetic language to build the inner reality in documentary films is a tension. Then, in order to achieve balance between the narrative and the poetic, the synchronicity of these languages give place to digest the horrible aspects of these stories [that I don’t] want the girls to keep quiet [about].

It was also a big challenge to keep the emotional balance of each one of us: the protagonists, the team, the families, and friends. I’ve lived in Montréal for 25 years. In my travels there, I met Rocío at her 15th birthday. Because she is my second-niece, and knowing the tragedy she [got through], I decided to make a film with her.

One and a half years later, I was already filming Rocío when Aldana, 16 years old — my brother’s daughter — told me that she was sexually abused by her father. She asked me then to bring her to Rocío’s town. That first encounter, that dialogue — even though it is not part of my usual cinematographic language — I shot in one breathless 15 minute take, the two cousins sat against a blank, white wall, and describing to each other the trauma they endured.

It was also difficult to balance the presence of the essay approach with direct cinema, and experimental cinema. I wish to grow as a person, keeping my conviction in film narration form, which is the closest way to maintain prose and poetry. Then, the logic in my creations is [related to ideas as well as emotions].

W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.

LB: To start: the Quebec Council for Arts. The Canadian Council of Arts was always present. [Eventually] GreenGround got on board, and the fantastic Andreas Mendritzki and Aonan Yang, and we have SODEC, and Telefilm.

I have to mention the generous collaboration of each member of the team, and external collaborators, who worked for not a lot of money.

W&H: What does it mean for you to have your film play at Hot Docs?

LB: My heart is springing hot hot Hot Docs! This event allows me to keep looking, and I believe that the transformation through art, and the art of transformation, would be impossible without film festivals.

From this perspective, to play at the amazing Hot Docs — one of the world’s major events dedicated to documentaries — gives us the chance to share others’ films and realities and create a universal link [between ideas and emotions].

W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?

LB: Best advice: A few years ago, I was nervously preparing a speech for the IDFA forum with my producer. [Director] Peter Wintonick walked by, took my papers, and said, “Laura, be yourself up there — we love you because of who you are, and how you make films.” It was recognition from an amazing mentor.

Worst advice: A bad teacher told me, “You should never show your emotions.”

W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?

LB: Mujeres directoras: never give up; silently follow your intuition; not only double check but always triple check with a smile; the technical problems start with unplugged cables; forget about men/women while you work — conceive of them as a person; leave the sound and the camera on when people don’t see you; work every day on your projects, without waiting for money; film, film, film — your story is going to be told, and we are waiting; work only with people who are respectful and open-minded.

W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.

LB: “Meshes of the Afternoon,” by Maya Deren (and Alexander Hammid).

This short initiates a new mode of expression through film, where the expression is illogical waves of imagination, [and] the subconscious is unrestrained. Deren is one of my favorite woman directors.

The woman — Maya herself — is getting into the house, witnesses a man on the street, and she tries to catch his shadow, and picks up a flower left by him on the sidewalk. She wears pants, as only feminists did at that time [the 1940s]. She gets into the house, carefully observes the objects, and falls asleep. The woman dreams the same dream over and over. Then, the dream becomes a nightmare: the man takes the flower and brings it with him, the flower becomes a knife, she uses it to break the mirror where her face is reflected, and so on.

[Deren] probably made this film to express how frustrated she was being a woman at that time, fabulously expressing this very difficult reality that everyone has: to have dreams and nightmares that come from our experiences. This very active female filmmaker also had to deal with her own psychological problems in her quest: what is real behind the real?

Considering that there are so many amazing women creating documentary, fiction, and experimental films, I chose this short film because it is the first of the director’s work, which is a solid system which transports me to another level of perception. I can then silently think, genuinely feel, and metaphorically express the human factor. The relativeness of the emotional structure is present, and opens our own way to see life and creation.

W&H: Hollywood and the global film industry are in the midst of undergoing a major transformation. Many women — and some men — in the industry are speaking publicly about their experiences being assaulted and harassed. What are your thoughts on the #TimesUp movement and the push for equality in the film business?

LB: You need to watch “Primas,” then!

We absolutely need to speak about horrible things to avoid them happening again; we absolutely need to choose respect, simplicity, and clarity to express our ideas; we absolutely need to stop violence; we absolutely need poetry to be created, to be watched, heard, written, recorded, filmed. We absolutely need to believe in each other.