Jill Campbell has worked as a producer, director, and writer on myriad documentaries, including “Dancing Across Borders,” “Bernal’s Picasso: When Art Met Science,” and “Out of Print.” Her work has screened at festivals and venues such as DOC NYC, the Seattle Film Festival, Tribeca Film Festival, San Diego Asian Film Festival, Warsaw Film Festival, and Lincoln Center. Campbell wrote and directed “The Hamlet of Canfield Gardens,” a documentary about her mentor, British playwright and poet Bernard Kops.
“Mr. Chibbs” opens today, May 3, in New York.
W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.
JC: Kenny “Chibbs” Anderson was a New York City phenomenon. He was recruited by every college in the nation. Dean Smith visited him at his apartment in LeFrak City. He had money, fame, and an abundance of talent that drove him for 14 years in the NBA. When he retired at 35, that life, the drive, the exhilaration, and the structure that the world of basketball gave him disappeared. He was left to question his identity.
I met Kenny 10 years post-retirement, shortly after he got a DUI and was subsequently asked not to return to his job as a high school basketball coach. It was clear Kenny was lost and searching, so we embarked on a journey back to the people and places from his past — some sentimental, like his visit to his high school, and some crazy, like when he went to North Korea and shook Kim Jong-un’s hand.
Kenny yearns for the relevance he felt back in the day, yet knows those days are behind him and he must forge a new way forward in order to find happiness. As Kenny journeyed to these places and through these memories, a different type of relevance emerged: one that was grounded in the love and support of family, friends, mentors, teammates, coaches, and — most importantly — his children and wife, Natasha. I wanted to capture this by utilizing an observational/direct cinema approach, while incorporating archival footage from his amazing career as memories that connect us to the story.
W&H: What drew you to this story?
JC: As soon as I met Kenny, I felt that I knew him; perhaps because we are close in age, maybe because I had experiences with alcoholics in my life, and definitely because I was on the tail end of my own mid-life crisis. Working in sports and working in the arts require a tremendous amount of diligence, tunnel vision, and dedication; I know what it’s like to have something stripped away and not know where the next opportunity is going to come from.
When Kenny was in the NBA, he had structure similar to a day job; when he retired, all of that disappeared. It was compelling to begin the story from this place. Kenny worked diligently from a very young age. He’s attained financial security and will eventually receive an NBA pension. He could have just rested on his laurels, but his innate drive and curiosity pushed him to a realization that now’s the time to become a champion of his personal life. Kenny calls himself a “work in progress.” We’re all works in progress.
W&H: What do you want people to think about when they are leaving the theater?
JC: There’s a cause and effect about wanting to be great and being great, a “catch 22” in terms of Kenny’s talent. Was he born with it or was he smart enough to develop the skills he needed to get himself and his mother out of poverty and an abusive environment? Kenny says he “fell apart once he got to the NBA.” He worked so hard, but once there did not have the emotional tools to [cope with] the pressure of the big league.
People have been critical about Kenny for not reaching his potential, but in reality didn’t he attain success by getting chosen second in the NBA draft? Fame and money cannot erase a traumatic upbringing. At some point issues like alcoholism and abuse emerge and force you to deal with them.
I hope people will leave this film with a new respect for Kenny and the bravery it took to face all [of this] in such a public forum. Kenny was raw and vulnerable. We laid it all out there for you and hope that people will learn from Kenny’s life and my interpretation of it.
Maybe a child that has been abused will speak up. Maybe sports fans won’t be as hard on their heroes. Yes, Kenny had an amazing career. He had millions, lost them, made mistakes — big mistakes — but he also owns them, something a lot of us have trouble doing.
W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?
JC: Following an ex-NBA player around who refused to stop for the camera was a challenge, but the authenticity we got in return made it worth it. We followed Kenny for a week of exploratory shooting in New York City, going to places like LeFrak City and Archbishop Molloy High School. We got amazing footage and knew we had something special, but then the film was put on hold as we waited for funding and contracts to get signed.
Kenny was all in and was impatient for us to film everyone everywhere he went, but I have learned not to work without a contract. We were frustrated because we did not want to miss a moment of all the exciting things Kenny was doing. At times, like when he returned from North Korea, my partner Gregory Gerhard and I just grabbed cameras and followed Kenny, hoping for the best.
Things got resolved, but I was offered a minuscule budget. Then producer Barry Greenstein came on board and funded the entire production which enabled us to finish the film with the respect it deserved. We hired DP Nelson Walker, a huge Chibbs fan, shot the Bobby Hurley scene, hired editors Josh Woltermann and Paul Lovelace, and composer Jeff Parker.
The more robust the budget, the better the film got. Saying that, I don’t regret jumping in and just filming because, if we would have waited, we would not have captured the genuine moments that we did or even launched this project.
W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.
JC: This is an independently-produced documentary. We started with a lot of inspiration and a small amount of funds, but because of who Kenny was and how much he likes to tweet, people started to reach out and offered assistance. Matt Miller, a huge Chibbs fan, offered to do our graphic design and Shaine Freeman hopped onboard as our music supervisor.
When things got tough, it was the generosity that came from Chibbs’ fans that kept us all going. Kenny gave a lot of years of joy on the court to fans and friends, and now it was their time to give back. The project would have taken many more years to finish or would have died many times without EP/producer Barry Greenstein’s time and support. Barry is a natural producer and we hope this is the beginning of many future collaborations.
W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?
JC: The best advice was actually from Kenny who said, “Don’t listen to the shit talkers.” And also from Ruth Maleczech when I was in residence at Mabou Mines. [She] said something like, “Tension is a normal part of creative collaboration. Without it, it means your collaborators are not passionate enough.”
W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?
JC: Don’t listen to the shit talkers. Don’t give crap and you won’t get crap. Work with collaborators you respect and who respect you. When someone pisses you off, insults you, challenges your decisions and knowledge, remember that we are all collaborating towards the same goal of making moving and insightful work. That person is reacting to a passion for the work you’re creating. Take it as a compliment and move forward
W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.
JC: Chantal Akerman’s “Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles.” I sat mesmerized and deeply moved for all three hours and 21 minutes. The slow burn of watching the mundane tasks of a lonely housewife collide with the constraints and circumstances of her life spoke to me on what it’s like to live life as a woman on so many levels.
W&H: Have you seen opportunities for women filmmakers increase over the last year due to the increased attention paid to the issue?
JC: I have not seen more opportunities; I think we have to make our own.
I have seen more acceptance of women on set. I try to work with men and women that respect and welcome, not challenge, a woman’s point of view.
W&H: If someone asked you what you thought needed to be done to get women more opportunities to direct, what would be your answer?
JC: Watch our work. We birthed you. We know our stuff and we are not all scary bitches (only kidding — not). I also think the studies from organizations like New York Women in Film and Television and the PGA keep the dialogue in the forefront of everyone’s mind when hiring, so we need to keep this going.
As women, we need to mentor and hire other women. What I personally find difficult is dealing with ageism on top of sexism, but that’s a whole other can of worms.
