Laurence Mathieu-Leger is an award-winning filmmaker, editor, and producer. She specializes in documentary projects and has done work for The Guardian, Reuters, La Presse, Cosmo, and the United Nations, among others. In 2017, Mathieu-Leger received international recognition after winning a World Press Photo Award for her groundbreaking work on the Guardian interactive production “The Injustice System.” In 2018, she was honored with the prestigious Edward R. Murrow Award in the Continuing Coverage category for her work on “Keystone XL: Driving the US Pipeline Route.”

“Willie” premiered at the 2019 Hot Docs Canadian International Documentary Festival on April 29.

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

LM: Willie O’Ree changed hockey forever on January 18, 1958. In the midst of America’s tumultuous fight to end Jim Crow and the birth of the civil rights movement, Willie—the descendant of escaped slaves—became the first Black player to skate in a National Hockey League game.

The film follows the amazing story of O’Ree’s family, from his great-grandfather’s escape from slavery in 1779 to Willie’s ascent to hockey’s highest honor, induction into the Hockey Hall of Fame, on November 12, 2018. His story transcends hockey—it is a story of courage, resilience, friendship, and triumph. It’s about a journey in pursuit of opportunity to blaze new trails and inspire people of all races, historic in both its sweep and scope and relevant to our current day.

W&H: What drew you to this story?

LM: The idea for the film stemmed from a conversation I had in February 2018 with my Harlem neighbor and longtime friend, Bryant Mcbride. We ran into each other and started to chat about hockey. Bryant had been the first Black executive at the National Hockey League back in the ’90s, and he told me about a Fredericton-based grassroots effort to get Willie O’Ree—the first black player in the NHL—into the Hockey Hall of Fame. He told me Willie was 82 years old and still working for the NHL, traveling North America and inspiring young people, and that 2018 marked the 60th anniversary of him breaking the color barrier.

My first thought was, Why didn’t I know about Willie O’ree? I had grown up in Montreal, which was a hockey-centric city. How come he wasn’t in the Hall of Fame already?

I had been a senior documentary producer at The Guardian and had covered the 2016 elections. I told Bryant that we needed to make a film about this right away—that people on all sides of the political spectrum, especially in the United States, could feel inspired by a story like Willie’s.

Willie is a living hero and something “active” was happening—that is, his potential induction into the Hall of Fame—which could serve as a simple arc to tell a bigger, important story. We both felt that his story could help inspire and heal at a time of heightened racial and political tension in America. We started production a few days later.

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

LM: I think the film can easily be labelled as a sports film, but really, it’s so much more than that. Hockey is only a thread that connects broader topics we wanted to address, such as the importance of friendship and community, systemic racism within and beyond sports then and now, and the power of trans-generational change.

I really hope that viewers walk away feeling moved and inspired that they can be part of “the solution,” that anything is possible if you put your heart to it, and that knowing your own history can help provide perspective about who you are.

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

LM: I think the main challenge in making the film was balancing work and family, which was a challenge when I produced documentaries in the news world as well. I have young children, which meant one or both would travel with me on longer shoots. People were generally very supportive—especially since I do all my camera work—and I would have not been able to make this film without the help of some of the characters, the production team, and my husband, and family. It takes a village!

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

LM: Willie is completely independent. The film was funded mostly by individual investors who believed in the project and wanted to see Willie’s story told. Bryant McBride, who is co-producer on the film, raised the money in about four hours after making about 15 phone calls. This is obviously incredible and really rare.

W&H: What inspired you to become a filmmaker?

LM: I spent most of my early years with my mom, who was a single parent, and we didn’t have cable. I watched a lot of news with her on the CBC and never missed the Sunday night documentary show. I knew at a very young age that I wanted to be a journalist, telling important stories through documentaries. I was fortunate enough to become exactly that.

Prior to making “Willie,” I had been producing, shooting, and editing documentary content in the news world—a job that gave me a lot of joy and purpose. I knew I eventually wanted to transition into features, and making “Willie” gave me that opportunity.

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

LM: Worst advice: I was told my life would be easier if I became a banker instead of a journalist.

Best advice: Work hard, and never cut corners.

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

LM: Believe in yourself—and don’t be scared to ask for fair pay. Women often feel bad asking for a good pay, especially in the freelancing world. I often notice that women asked less than men for equivalent work in the news space. When I manage a budget, I always make sure all women understand they can and should asked to get paid appropriately.

W&H: It’s been a little over a year since the reckoning in Hollywood and the global film industry began. What differences have you noticed since the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements launched?

LM: I think, if anything, I feel more confident to speak up when I perceive a situation to be unfair—and I think all women should feel equally empowered. Things are not going to change overnight, and there will always be people who think you look “cute” with a camera. There is a lot of work to do—for women, people of color, LGBTQ, and all the above—so as long as we are given a safe space to speak up, then things can progress, even if it’s slowly.