Jackie Torrens is an actor, writer, and documentary filmmaker. In 2012, she co-founded Peep Media with producer Jessica Brown, and since then they have completed four television documentaries for the CBC, including “Edge of East,” “My Week On Welfare,” “Small Town Show Biz,” and the short documentary film “Bernie Langille Wants To Know Who Killed Bernie Langille?” for Bravofactual.

The feature-length version of “Bernie Langille Wants To Know Who Killed Bernie Langille?” is screening at the 2022 Hot Docs Canadian International Film Festival, which is taking place April 28-May 8. Find more information on the fest’s website.

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

JT: “Bernie Langille Wants To Know What Happened To Bernie Langille” is the story of a grandson who is trying to figure out what happened to the grandfather he never met, a military mechanic who died 50 years ago under mysterious and unresolved circumstances. The family is convinced the grandfather was murdered in a military cover up. Bernie, the grandson, goes on an existential investigation to find out what happened and how it’s affected his family. We use miniature sets to tell the reenactments.

W&H: What drew you to this story?

JT: I was drawn to this story because family narratives affect all of us. In the case of the Langille family, three generations have been profoundly affected by a story that happened half a century ago. The lack of answers and lack of validation about what happened to Bernie Sr. have kept the Langilles emotionally frozen in time.

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

JT: I’d love for them to consider the strange inheritance of family stories: how these narratives are passed down to us and affect our identity. And how these are stories that, often, we only know pieces and fragments of. And how much depends on who is telling the story. Also, how time affects memory and how what we remember might not be the truth.

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

JT: The biggest challenge in making this film was doing it during an extraordinary time in human history, i.e. the pandemic. We were only a few weeks into filming when the global crisis hit. We were shut down and then resumed filming in between subsequent lockdowns. Everyone — participants and crew — were game to keep going, but the pandemic still affected everything and everyone’s headspace. Things just weren’t the same — and, of course, still aren’t.

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

JT: We had a compelling story and an unusual concept, i.e. miniature sets for the reenactments. We decided to make a short film of the story first, knowing that a feature using miniatures would need a sizable art department budget. So we made the short and brought it to Hot Docs in 2018, with the express mission of finding a home for the feature. And, luckily, that’s what happened. Peep Media, my Halifax-based production company that I own with producer Jessica Brown, was commissioned by the Documentary Channel to make this feature film. We were funded by the Canadian Media Fund, as well as the Nova Scotia Business Inc. and assisted by the Canadian Film or Television Production Tax Credit.

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

JT: I had a stretch awhile ago when I was going through a period of creative stagnation. The thing that moved me out of it was to consider sight. Specifically, to be mindful of what I was seeing and what I could see, if I decided to look. And then, what creative visions could come from what I saw. I’ve been a writer since childhood, so I’ve always tended to think in words, not so much in images. But when I was in that state of creative limbo I got to a point where I felt so sick and bored of the state I was in, I purposely made myself start looking at the world with attention. And lo, I started to feel like I might be coming alive again.

From there I gave myself the challenge of writing a short film, and to write it in images. It became a story called “Pickled Punk,” about a miscarried fetus who’s stuck in a jar, and it was the first film I ever made. I’m very grateful to my first film — it brought me back to life and started me in directing.

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

JT: Know, like, and respect the work of people you ask for feedback. If you don’t know their work or like their work, why do you care what they might have to say about what you’re doing? That’s what my first mentor told me and it’s been invaluable for me.

Worst advice: I do a number of different jobs in the arts: I write, I act, I direct, I produce. I work in fiction and non-fiction and I work in a number of different areas; theater, TV, film, and radio. Someone once told me to pick one job and focus on that so people would be clear on who I am and what I do. I remember thinking, but if you can do more than one thing, why wouldn’t you?

All my jobs are ultimately serving one thing: story. And all my jobs inform each other and keep my creativity invigorated. So be who and what you are, listen to your own voice, and don’t let other people keep you from that.

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

JT: One of the great things about directing is that you get to set the tone of the work environment. Often, you’re also in charge of who’s on the team. Give what you expect to get. My crews are hired not just for their talent, but also their temperament. There’s a couple of reasons for this: one, in documentary, you’re putting real people in front of the camera and their comfort is a primary concern. You need crew who understand that the way they behave as they work is integral to helping you help this real person feel comfortable enough to open up. You can’t do that with big personalities on the crew who are going to take up all the conversational air and attention. You need crew members that understand what you have to do and support you in that. As well, every day on a film contains 250 problems that need solving. I’m not interested in who messed up when a mistake is made. I just want a solution. If I mess up, I own it. I like calm, kind, solution-oriented co-workers and I can’t get that if I don’t give that. So I give what I hope to get back and, so far, I’ve had awesome collaborators that I regularly work with.

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

JT: Only one? No way! In Canada, in the world of non-fiction film, I love the work of Baljit Sangra (“Because We Were Girls”), Sarah Polley (“Stories We Tell”), Marcia Connolly (“Spring & Arnaud”), to name a few. In the world of Canadian fiction film, I loved Heather Young’s” Murmur.”

Jane Campion’s “Power Of The Dog” was truly a work of art. Same with Chloé Zhao’s “Nomadland.”

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

JT: My usual creative process was very affected by the pandemic — and yet I still had a movie to make. When I’m working on a story, my brain is usually sizzling 24/7 with it, but my brain was incredibly distracted by what was happening to the world. Keeping focused was an issue — how do I keep working on a story in the middle of a global crisis?

Early on, I decided not to panic and to embrace working differently. My collaborators and I made a lot of space and grace for each other. And I tried to keep in mind what an incredible opportunity it is to tell a story, even one that is happening during a very strange and challenging time.

I have also made time to be creative in ways that aren’t necessarily related to work. I learned embroidery this winter and I could feel my brain really responding to it — learning a new art form brought back the feeling of play, where all creativity comes from.

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?

JT: In terms of stereotypes of women, people of color, and all marginalized people, I think doing our own work and getting it out there is doing a lot to challenge the tropes. Also, having underrepresented people in leadership positions are changing old-school work and power models, which is great. I also think, if we can, we need to speak up whenever we encounter gender, racial, ableist, orientation, and classist stereotypes, and/or are asked to participate in them. This is not always easy — sometimes we really need the gig. A little while ago, I turned down a role with a director I really wanted to work with, but the character they wanted me to play was essentially a gender stereotype — one I’ve played many times in my life and have reached my limit participating in. I ended up telling the director why I was saying no. It felt weird and sweat-inducing, but I immediately felt relief in not having to perform a role that felt like it was devaluing my humanity. I still feel relieved about it. So I’m glad I made that decision.

Ultimately, I’m all for mandates and quotas. They work. If inclusion and parity were going to happen on their own, it would have happened already — a long time ago. Those who have power do not give it up or share it willingly. Change has to be implemented with official policy. The days of all of humanity being represented in stories by one demographic are over. No more niching our stories. The protagonist has many different faces and comes from many different places, something that all underrepresented people have always known.