Chris J. Russo’s award-winning short films have screened all over the world, including at the Sundance Film Festival, and have been broadcast on Showtime, PBS, IFC, LOGO, and Netflix. She is a fellow of the Sundance Institute/Women In Film Financing Intensive and Film Independent’s Director and Screenwriter Labs. Her short film credits include “A Woman Reported,” about the moments before a hate crime occurs; “Size ’em Up,” a coming of age story; “Straight Down the Aisle: Confessions of Lesbian Bridesmaids,” winner of the Outfest Best Short Documentary Award.

“Lady Buds” is screening at the 2021 Hot Docs Canadian International Documentary Film Festival, which takes place April 29-May 9. The fest is digital this year due to COVID-19. Streaming is geo-blocked to Canada.

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

CJR: The film follows the journey of six courageous women who have decided to come out of the shadows of the illegal cannabis trade after risking their freedom for decades to create businesses for themselves and their communities in the newly legal California industry. Through the personal stories of small farmers living off the grid in the Emerald Triangle to a medical marijuana activist fighting for social justice in Los Angeles to a grandmother’s dream of opening a dispensary for senior citizens in Berkeley, the film exposes the struggles and barriers these passionate entrepreneurs must face to enter a market burdened by excessive government oversight and regulations that favor corporate mega-grows and and big business.

The film is about having the courage to stand up for what you believe in, knowing the risks and the struggles, in order to live a life out in the open doing what you love to do. It’s about pioneers wanting to achieve the American Dream, in the very market they laid the groundwork for.

W&H: What drew you to this story?

CJR: When adult-use cannabis legalization was on the horizon in California, I knew we were about to witness a massive economic and societal transformation that comes with the birth of an industry, especially living in the state that’s the fifth-largest economy in the world.

With all the news surrounding this landmark moment, I was struck by two things: the number of women entrepreneurs who were speaking up in the cannabis industry seemed like more than any other market I’ve ever seen. I had the impression cannabis was always a “bro” culture, so when I noticed women owning the space, I was intrigued and quite frankly surprised. Secondly, it was apparent that big business was angling to pounce on a cottage industry that had been focused on compassionate care since 1996, when medicinal cannabis was made legal in the state. Newly-written regulations favored deep-pocketed corporations and were about to threaten the livelihoods of small farmers who had been supporting a robust underground economy in rural towns in Northern California for decades. The writing was on the wall that things were about to change in a big way.

Part of the heritage story of cannabis in California is the little-known history of LGBTQ+ activism that birthed the medical marijuana movement during the AIDS crisis in the 1990s, which laid the groundwork for what legalization is today. I felt I had stumbled upon a really important piece of history that was getting lost in the narrative of legalization. This important finding, along with hearing cannabis farmers speak about going legal as “coming out of the shadows” after living a double life for decades mirrored my personal experience of “coming out of the closet.” As a queer-identified filmmaker, I understand what it means to be an outlier, and I relate to the renegade spirit of the women who risk their freedom for something they passionately believe in.

W&H: What do you want people to think about after they watch the film?

CJR: “Lady Buds” reflects our country’s current struggle with corporate capitalism controlling the economy and dominating our democracy, exposing how difficult it is for any small business to survive. I hope audiences connect to the importance of supporting local businesses, especially those run by women. I also hope the film allows people to think about cannabis in a new way so they can take advantage of its healing properties, if they so choose.

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

CJR: The biggest challenge of making the film was earning the trust of a community that doesn’t normally welcome outsiders. Finding women to share their personal stories on camera wasn’t easy because they had been operating in secret, and talking on record could have implications. It’s a close-knit community, so it was very word-of-mouth how I met everyone in the film, and while listening without judgement and passing joints around, I eventually became a trusted part of the circle.

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

CJR: I’m the kind of person who, when I put my mind to something, I just go for it. I started filming out of curiosity with my own camera gear, and one thing led to another. The film was funded through a combination of grants, crowdsourcing, private investors, and sweat equity. I was invited to the Women In Film/Sundance Institute Financing Intensive as well as the IFP Documentary Market, where I made valuable connections. I held fundraisers — a “cannabis friendly” one in Los Angeles that served CBD-infused appetizers and cocktails and a sneak preview screening at the Alamo Drafthouse in San Francisco. You have to get creative!

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

CJR: I think my curiosity to understand human behavior and the world around me has fueled my creativity. I took my first photography class when I was 10 years old and then I moved on to super 8mm experimental shorts in art school. I fell in love with film because it allowed me to expand my visual storytelling with sound and writing. When my films were invited to screen at film festivals, I realized the power of the medium to reach a large audience. Being passionate about telling stories that amplify women and LGBTQ+ voices, and knowing a film’s potential reach, has made me feel like I could actually change hearts and minds as a filmmaker.

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

CJR: Stay true to yourself and the kind of work you want to make and be confident in knowing that your story is an important one to share and there are people who will relate to it. Choose your collaborators wisely because your film is your lover and you’re going to be in this relationship for a very long time. Just go for it.

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

CJR: At the moment it’s Chloé Zhao’s “Nomadland.” Beautiful, poetic, and profound in its deceptive simplicity, Zhao has masterfully evoked both the joy and heartache of what it means to be in the last chapter of your life in the wild west of America today. From writing the complex character of Fern, which Frances McDormand inhabits so seamlessly, to casting real-life personalities from nomad culture to the cinematic and overwhelming beauty of the natural landscape, there’s an alchemy of realism and authenticity on screen that one can’t help but feel the genuine emotions and empathy of her characters. Simply brilliant filmmaking.

W&H: How are you adjusting to life during the COVID-19 pandemic? Are you keeping creative, and if so, how? 

CJR: During the pandemic, I moved through post-production on the film and worked remotely with my composer, live musicians, colorist, and sound team. It wasn’t an ideal way of navigating a creative collaboration, but we had no choice and made the most of it. I’ve also been developing new projects and created some photo-based art work that was included in two virtual gallery exhibitions during the pandemic. I was definitely staying creative!

W&H: The film industry has a long history of underrepresenting people of color onscreen and behind the scenes and reinforcing — and creating — negative stereotypes. What actions do you think need to be taken to make Hollywood and/or the doc world more inclusive?

CJR: First and foremost, Hollywood gatekeepers need to hire more BIPOC and womxn filmmakers and empower them to create characters and tell stories that authentically reflect their culture. In the documentary world, we need more funding to go towards BIPOC and womxn filmmakers and ask film festivals to recognize more of these voices in their programs. I’ve seen a shift in consciousness in the last couple of years towards a direction of more inclusivity. I do believe progress is being made, but it’s something we will have to continually fight for.