Britt Poulton is a writer and director. After studying International Relations at UC Berkeley, she left politics to pursue film and completed her MFA at USC’s School of Cinematic Arts. She wrote “Profile,” a female-driven political thriller that played at both Berlinale and South by Southwest in 2018. “Them That Follow” is her first feature-length screenplay and marks her directorial debut.

“Them That Follow” will premiere at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival on January 27. The film is co-directed by Dan Madison Savage.

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

BP: Our film explores an obscure sect of American Pentecostalism, part of a century-old tradition of worshipping poisonous snakes during church services, where believers put their lives on the line each and every week to prove themselves before God. It is a ritual that has been mocked, maligned, and even persecuted, [and] many stay hidden, tucked away in the hills of Appalachia.

That is where our story begins, in one of these unseen communities where we imagine not only what it means to be set apart from the world, but what that means for a young woman to grow up in such a narrow space and be forced to reconcile faith and doubt, knowledge and instinct, this life and the next—all to come of age.

W&H: What drew you to this story?

BP: Growing up in a religious home and community wasn’t easy for me. My family has belonged to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for generations, and has meaningful ties not only to the Mormon religion but to Mormon history. That was the lens through which I saw everything as a child. It literally framed my existence.

So when it came time for me to carve out my own identity and my own value system, as all young people endeavor to do, I really struggled. Every choice I made, every need I tried to satiate, I had to not only consider repercussions for myself but for my soul. That’s a lot of pressure to put on a young person.

It was that pressure I was interested in exploring with our film—following the journey of a young woman as she writhes against these constraints, as she comes to define her life and her faith on her own terms.

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

BP: When people leave the theater, I hope they will feel connected to a community they may not understand. That is my very simple, but very ambitious, goal as a storyteller: to create connection.

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

BP: It’s always a miracle getting a movie made! But for first-time filmmakers, this is especially true. We’re untried and difficult to trust with millions of dollars, so getting a financier to take a chance on us—to take on that risk—was the single biggest challenge in making our film. And there were many moments, dark and sad and lonely moments, where we believed no one would ever let us tell this story.

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

BP: We were very fortunate to secure independent financing on our film from Amasia Entertainment. Producers Bradley Gallo and Michael Helfant were the first financiers who not only supported our vision, but were willing to take on the considerable risk in achieving it. Without their support, our film would have never gotten made.

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

BP: I moved around a lot growing up, from Idaho to Oregon to Utah, and as the perpetual new kid, I became quite the storyteller. I was always shaping, contextualizing, and at times dramatizing where I was coming from and where I was going.

That was the start of this journey for me: observing worlds, studying people and, eventually, telling stories.

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

BP: While I cannot recall the worst advice I’ve ever received, the best advice I’ve ever received—besides treat others the way you want to be treated, [which my Mom taught me] — is to build your community. And I’ve built an incredible community of women around me.

This can be a pretty punishing business to navigate, especially as a woman, and you need to surround yourself with friends and collaborators that lift you up and hold it down. For every step forward I take, there are countless dark and lonely nights full of doubt and tears and ice cream.

And by god, am I lucky to have girlfriends who will cry and eat with me.

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

BP: My single greatest piece of advice for female filmmakers is to choose your producers wisely. From start to finish, through every aspect of the filmmaking process, it is your producers who shape the space you work in. Partner with people who will both champion and challenge you — those who will protect you, and not only your vision, but your wellbeing.

With different producers, my experience making “Them That Follow” could have been crushing, both personally and creatively. I went through a challenging pregnancy while shooting our film, and my producers got me through it. Never once did they question whether I could do my job, they simply asked how they could support me, even designing our shooting schedule so we would be off on Mondays, allowing me to attend prenatal appointments.

All that is to say, making a film is a deeply collaborative process. This is less a job, and more a lifestyle—always be mindful of those you let into your life.

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

BP: Watching So Yong Kim’s “Treeless Mountain” for the first time was staggering. Never before had I seen onscreen the feeling of being a child captured so clearly, the power and vulnerability. Revisiting it now as a mother of two young daughters, it is quietly excruciating and simply masterful.

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?

BP: Since #MeToo and #TimesUp, I’ve experienced a considerable shift in the industry. What is considered acceptable and unacceptable, from conversations we have to stories we tell, has fundamentally — and I hope irrevocably — changed.

That being said, my biggest fear is that this moment is just a moment. Because there is so much further to go. Women—especially women of color—are still grossly underrepresented in this industry.

As we’ve learned since the last presidential election, we cannot allow ourselves to become comfortable or to say, “Well this is better. It must be good enough,” when only equality is enough. When those who both craft and control the stories we tell reflect the world we live in.