The Spanish Ministry of Culture honored Isabel Coixet with its National Cinematography Prize at the San Sebastian Film Festival last month. While accepting the prestigious award, which recognizes “the most outstanding contribution in the Spanish cinematographic field,” per Variety, the prolific director used her moment in the spotlight to break down what she thinks young filmmakers should know — what she wishes someone had told her when she first starting making movies.

“Ask yourself why you want to make films,” Coixet began. “You wanted to be a pediatrician, but you didn’t have the grades? You weren’t great at math, and you think film will be easier? You like canvas chairs with your name on the back? You think canvas chairs with your name on them are comfortable? You imagine that if you’re sitting in one, suddenly everyone will pay attention to you? Have you heard it will make you sexier?” she asked. “If you answered yes to any of these questions, forget about film and do something else.”

Coixet, who recently finished work on her 13th film, “It Snows in Benidorm,” stressed that confusion and uncertainty will always be present in a filmmaker’s life, no matter how long they have been in the business. Whether it’s a financial issue or a pandemic, there are going to be obstacles, and Coixet advised that filmmakers do their best to go with the flow. “A lack of money, equipment, resources can never be an excuse. Never,” she declared. “Rise up in the face of limitations. Be adaptable. We’re living through a wave of uncertainty, the likes of which have seldom been seen in the history of humanity. In this lack of certainty, embrace the fog. There’s nothing else. Fog.”

Coixet, who has spoken out about the gender gap in film before, devoted the last section of her speech to women filmmakers. She noted that women have to work “a thousand times more” in the business, but also suggested that the times are finally changing.

“You’ll have to pay more attention, make more of an effort, be a thousand times stronger, a thousand times more serene, more focused, more resilient,” Coixet told her fellow female filmmakers. “People will insinuate, over and over again, that everything you’ve achieved is because you’re a woman and, perversely, the obstacles put in your path will be there for the same reason.” She added, “The good news though, believe me, is that, finally, in recent years I feel like things are changing, that there is real interest in our perspective, in our filmmaking, and our way of being in the world. It has been a hard road,” Coixet said. “Always remember the women who led the way. Don’t ever imagine you’re the last Coca-Cola in the desert, the last hard-boiled egg at the picnic. If you want to pray to someone, pray to Agnès Varda. Help each other as much as you can. That’s our biggest responsibility right now.”

Presented by the Institute of Cinematography and Audiovisual Arts, an org attached to the Ministry of Culture and Sports, the National Cinematography Prize comes with €30,000 (about $36,000 USD).

Coixet has won seven Goyas, the Spanish counterpart to the Oscars, throughout her career. She has been honored for “The Bookshop,” “Escuchando al juez Garzón,” “Invisibles,” “The Secret Life of Words,” and “My Life Without Me.” Coixet’s more recent credits include historical lesbian romance “Elisa & Marcela” and series “Foodie Love.”

“It Snows in Benidorm” will open the Valladolid International Film Festival later this month. The drama sees a newly retired English banker deciding to visit his brother in Benidorm, only to find out he has disappeared.

You can read Coixet’s entire San Sebastian speech below. Reprinted with permission from Coixet.

Things I wish someone had told me before starting out in film (and in life).

Thank you to everyone who decided to give me this award. To everyone here in their masks, to everyone who couldn’t be here, to everyone who – for some reason I can’t quite fathom – has always believed in me, you have my eternal gratitude. I’m one of those impossible people who assume, when they don’t get an award, that they didn’t deserve it – and when they do get one too.

I’d like to say a few words to all the people who want to do what I do. I’m going to take advantage of this award to help them out, and it would be good, first and foremost, for them to hear a few things that I wish someone had told me when I was starting out.

1/ Ask yourself why you want to make films. You wanted to be a pediatrician, but you didn’t have the grades? You weren’t great at math, and you think film will be easier? You like canvas chairs with your name on the back? You think canvas chairs with your name on them are comfortable? You imagine that if you’re sitting in one, suddenly everyone will pay attention to you? Have you heard it will make you sexier? If you answered yes to any of these questions, forget about film and do something else. Chicken farms always need sexers. And chihuahuas need veterinarians. That’s something I would have liked to be. A veterinarian, not a chihuahua.

2/ Read, ask questions, listen, observe, look around. And observe. And observe some more. And listen. And pay attention. Observe the strained smile of an old woman on the bus as she thanks you for offering her your seat. The furtive gesture of a boy tugging at the sleeves of his sweater because its itchy, but it was a gift from a well-meaning aunt. A silent couple in a cafe who rely on making plans with friends to avoid splitting up. Or the waiter, trying to make ends meet, who brings them a cup of coffee they didn’t order.

Close your eyes, and in the little cinema of your mind, project the old woman’s shaking hands, the boy’s exasperation, the couple’s uneven affections, the dazzling sun reflected on the coffee spoon. You have the right to find inspiration in all of that… but also in travelling to far-off places to make a documentary about a lost tribe no one knew existed or imagining a planet inhabited by zombie dinosaurs. But before you do any of that, trust me, really look at how life is unfolding around you. Because it will help you when you’re filming your friends and acquaintances, or when you’re filming the tribe that has never seen anyone like you. Or the zombie dinosaurs. You are a camera. Don’t ever be afraid of the camera. Make it into an extension of yourself. Or make yourself and extension of it. Constantly construct your point of view. By watching films, reading, dreaming, by attending dance performances or going to a bar and listening to the regulars eating anchovies and shouting at the TV.

3/ Don’t waste time criticizing people who are getting to your dream before you. Don’t waste time complaining about how hard it all is, or badmouthing people who don’t return phone calls or who don’t answer emails, queries and requests. You want to direct; no one said it would be easy. Accept that. Every second you waste on feeding your resentment distracts you from your goal. Believe me, I’ve been there. I’ve been stuck in that limbo that gets you nowhere. Get out of there as soon as you can. Get to work. And if you don’t, don’t complain about it. Or complain when no one else can see you.

4/ Film Festivals: another trap. A few meters from here there’s a cafe where, on a morning just like today 30 years ago, I sat reading the newspapers that were panning my first film. Each review was crueler than the last. I sat in that cafe for hours, in shock. Seven years went by before I was able to make my second. Even today, on my way here, as I passed that cafe, I couldn’t help but feel a shiver. I would have liked to tell that girl, crying her eyes out on that terrace, that film festivals, aside from places to discover new films, are the bull rings where the egos of directors, producers, actors, and festival directors all fight it out. The more elitist they are, the more arbitrary. So, if you have a small fragile ego, like me, sooner or later you’ll end up suffering. It isn’t the end of the world, believe me. It stings, but it’s nothing that diving into a new project can’t cure. Not everyone is going to love you: always remember that. Get at tattoo of it if you need to.

5 / Respect every member of your team, from the interns to the catering staff. They’re all there so that you can make your dream come true. Be grateful. Don’t belittle anyone’s opinion or give arbitrary orders just to show who’s boss. A film set isn’t the place to take out your frustrations. Do all your crying, pissing and psychoanalysis somewhere else.

6 / The fact that you direct films doesn’t make you an oracle on politics, or history, or ethics. People will ask you things you have no idea about or that you haven’t formed an opinion on. Don’t ever be afraid to say what you think – or to say that you don’t know what to think. Directors aren’t gurus or politicians, or messiahs, or epidemiologists, or political scientists. Your discourse exists in what you do. Your films, whether you like it or not, will always be a product of history, politics and ethics. Of the world you grew up in. Of your outlook on it: whether it’s sympathetic, harsh, angry or inquisitive. 

And as one of my characters said, “understanding everything makes your mind lazy.” 

7/ Directing actors: something people always ask me about. It’s easy for me, because I fall in love with them. It’s that simple. If you don’t like actors, or you’re afraid of them, or you think they’re an inevitable obstacle, think again about all those chickens that need sexing. Or maybe animation. But even in animation you need empathy, an understanding of human nature, patience, tenderness, emotion. Just look at Miyazaki.

8/ Posters, marketing, ways of selling films, believe me, nobody has the answers. In my 30-year career, one of the few things I’ve learned is that everyone around you will want to put their two cents into your film. And it’s fantastic if they have good ideas; but that’s rarely the case. Do your best when it comes to promoting, but don’t be disappointed. If, for whatever reason, people don’t want to see what you’ve made, they won’t. Your job is to make the best film you can. Maybe the audience for it is smaller than you thought or hoped. That’s OK. There are people out there who will connect with it. In film, there are never, never, never any guarantees. Always make your own mistakes. 

9/ Don’t make films for the audience, or festivals, or critics, or your mother. But never turn your back on them. A film is a meeting between your point of view and the audience’s… A film can’t be a mirror of your own vanity. It’s a mirror to be shared. By two people. Or 2,000. Or 200,000. Sometimes trying to reach two million can leave you with nobody. There’s nothing sadder than making films for nobody. Yourself included. 

10/ People will question your role in society. They will call you a rat, a flunky, a puppet, a phony, worthless, pretentious, an idiot. They’ll demand your head in a public forum. It’s not pretty, but it isn’t the end of the world either. If only all those people would put their energy into making life better: the world would be a much better place. In the meantime, grit your teeth and remember that you’re a filmmaker, not a preacher. Don’t sermonize. Be disobedient. Laugh at your own shadow. And they take their name-calling and shove it.

11/ A lack of money, equipment, resources can never be an excuse. Never. Rise up in the face of limitations. Be adaptable. We’re living through a wave of uncertainty, the likes of which have seldom been seen in the history of humanity. In this lack of certainty, embrace the fog. There’s nothing else. Fog. 

12/ Finally, this last item is dedicated to all the women film makers who are just starting out. Everything I’ve said applies to you, of course, but with two caveats: the bad news is, you’ll have to take everything I’ve said and multiply it by a thousand. You’ll have to observe a thousand times more. You’ll have to pay more attention, make more of an effort, be a thousand times stronger, a thousand times more serene, more focused, more resilient. People will insinuate, over and over again, that everything you’ve achieved is because you’re a woman and, perversely, the obstacles put in your path will be there for the same reason. The good news though, believe me, is that, finally, in recent years I feel like things are changing, that there is real interest in our perspective, in our filmmaking, and our way of being in the world. It has been a hard road. Always remember the women who led the way. Don’t ever imagine you’re the last Coca-Cola in the desert, the last hard-boiled egg at the picnic. If you want to pray to someone, pray to Agnès Varda. Help each other as much as you can. That’s our biggest responsibility right now.

I’ll do my best to support you until the day comes when it isn’t necessary. Until then, let’s embrace the fog together.

PS

My utmost respect to chicken sexers, veterinarians, and waiters. And chihuahuas.