Jacqueline Olive is an independent filmmaker and immersive media producer with more than a decade of experience in journalism and film. She co-directed and produced the award-winning short documentary “Black to Our Roots.” She received the Emerging Filmmakers of Color Award from International Documentary Association and the Jonathan Logan Family Foundation. Olive worked on the production team of the Emmy-winning PBS documentary series “Independent Lens.”
“Always in Season” premiered at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival on January 26.
W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.
JO: I spent seven years filming in communities across the United States where lynchings happened. “Always in Season” features the grassroots efforts of some of the relatives of the perpetrators, victims, and others that I met who are seeking justice and reconciliation.
The film connects historic lynching terrorism of African Americans to racial violence today with the story of a 17 year old named Lennon Lacy, who was found hanging from a swing set in a small town in North Carolina on August 29, 2014. Despite inconsistencies in the evidence and racial divisions in the area, local police quickly ruled Lennon’s death a suicide. However, his mother Claudia Lacy, suspects that Lennon was lynched, and the film follows her fight for justice.
There are many parallels to historic lynching that were very familiar as I looked into Lennon’s case. The depth of the loss for his family and the community that nurtured him has been intensified by the historical context of injury to black bodies.
Finding Lennon hanging in the middle of a trailer park has not just been the kind of nightmare that people face with unanswered questions about the potentially violent death of someone so young, but for many people in the community and beyond, this case also recalls the trauma of nearly 5,000 lynchings of African Americans for more than a century.
Like Claudia, most of the people I got to know in Bladenboro simply want to know the truth about Lennon’s death, whether it turns out that he hung himself or was a victim of a racialized murder. But, as was frequently the case in the past, the community is left to parse stories, speculation, and rumors. “Always in Season” maps the connections between Lennon’s death and lynchings past.
W&H: What drew you to this story?
JO: While I was making this film about lynching, discovering increasingly more about the impact of decades-old racial terrorism that hundreds of communities are still facing, I was also raising my son, watching him grow from a boy who was typically considered adorable into a young man who could now be perceived as a threat.
Our ongoing conversations about racial profiling and violence became increasingly specific to my son as we discussed ways he could protect himself. It became all the more urgent that I make a film that gives historical context to the racial violence going on today, while highlighting efforts for justice and reconciliation.
It initially took a bit of time for me to wrap my head around the lynching reenactment in Monroe, Georgia, that is featured in the film. Once I met the diverse group of reenactors and understood that they were annually dramatizing the 1946 quadruple lynching as a way to remember the victims and bring the perpetrators, that might still be alive, to justice, I saw the event as an extremely creative grassroots strategy to repair the damage.
Their efforts are controversial and imperfect, but are a unique and organic expression of their desire to find healing. I filmed with the same core group of amateur actors for three years, inspired by their commitment to confronting the history of lynching at a time when others were hesitant to discuss the racial violence that seemed to be escalating around the country.
By 2014, I thought I was finished filming when I learned about the case of Lennon Lacy, who was 17 — my son’s age — when he was found hanging 20 days after Michael Brown was gunned down by police in Ferguson, Missouri. It was then that my personal life, my work, and the suspected lynching of Lennon converged.
As I saw Claudia’s determination to tell Lennon’s story even while grieving his death, I could not imagine how a mother could cope with that much trauma, and I reached out to her to learn more.
W&H: What do you want people to think about when they are leaving the theater?
JO: More than in their heads, I’m hoping that people are still in their feelings when they leave the theater. Ideally, they feel the urgent call to action that runs from the first scene of the film to the last and know that they have the ability to move forward with a deeper awareness of their communities, doing what is necessary to heal them.
Connecting to the anger, shame, fear, and pain that can come when you explore lynching doesn’t have to be crippling. We have the ability to cope with those emotions and transform that energy into inspiring acts of justice when they are faced rather than pushed down.
Claudia is a prime example. You don’t get much closer to the trauma than when your youngest child is dead and you suspect that he may have been a victim of lynching. Yet she has found a way to navigate pain—that was at one time unspeakable—with an open heart. That’s the quality I admire most about her.
So, ideally audiences leave fueled by their emotions to have discussions on the way out of the theater, and hopefully to have increasingly deeper conversations in the days and weeks that follow about their family connections to lynchings that likely happened in the towns where they grew up or are currently living.
Those conversations can take so many directions depending on who is watching the film. It can spark discussions about racial justice issues around policing and the criminal justice system; inequities in so many of the institutions that we interact with daily, like schools, banking, and housing; the alarming number of cases of black people found publicly hanging in the years before and after Lennon’s death; and much more.
These dialogues can lead to relationships that, with enough compassion and commitment, have enormous potential to develop into greater coalitions of people doing the work of ending systemic racism that we all share a responsibility in.
W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?
JO: By far, the biggest challenge with making “Always in Season” was finding a narrative structure that worked well. It was wonderful collaborating with Don Bernier, our project lead editor, because he’s such an extraordinarily talented editor and stayed open creatively through the process in the way that I knew the material required. Once Don and I paired up last spring, we cracked the structure code surprisingly quickly!
Over the years, I filmed in many more communities than the three featured in “Always in Season.” Several of them had such epic and compelling stories that they could have been a film on their own. However, from the beginning, I knew that in order to convey how pervasive lynching terror was, I needed to highlight cases in multiple communities.
I have always been incredibly impressed with how well Claude Lanzmann, director of the 1985 film about the Holocaust called “Shoah,” layered what felt like dozens of interviews with people who had survived, witnessed, or helped perpetrate the genocide. So, early on, it inspired me to structure “Always in Season” in a way that tells multiple stories that echo and validate each account of the organized violence of lynching that has reverberated across generations and shaped virtually every American institution.
On the continuum of practices that maintained white supremacy, lynching was the ultimate tool of terrorism, and for too long, there has been a collective cognitive dissonance in the mainstream about this history.
W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.
JO: I have been fortunate to find funders that are truly dedicated to supporting films like “Always in Season” that address social justice issues. After two years of research, I was able to move immediately into production thanks to grants from Chicken & Egg Pictures and Catapult Film Fund. Both organizations are run by visionary women, and Chicken & Egg’s sole focus is on mentoring and financially contributing to projects helmed by women.
Another early supporter was Firelight Media. Coming to the Firelight family through their Documentary Lab has been such a gift as they’ve supported me and other filmmakers of color with mentorship, resources, networking, and funding.
Independent Television Service is also a crucial funding partner with the project. I’m extremely proud to have their support because the films broadcast on their PBS series “Independent Lens” were some of the first documentaries that inspired me.
During the summer of 2017, I attended the Sundance Documentary Edit & Story Lab, and it transformed my understanding of creating cinematic films. With mentorship in the Sundance Music and Sound Design Lab, I was able to later collaborate with our project composer Osei Essed and sound designer Bob Edwards with confidence and new clarity about how much both music and sound can elevate a story. The thoughtful mentorship and funding that Sundance has provided through the Documentary Film Program and Catalyst has been invaluable.
That’s also the case for my relationships with other organizations, that have supported “Always in Season,” including Ford Foundation, Tribeca Film Institute, International Documentary Association, Black Public Media, the Puffin Foundation, Southern Documentary Fund, Alternate ROOTS, Cucalorus Foundation, the San Francisco Foundation, Bertha Foundation, Working Films, the Utah Film Center, CPB, Open Society Foundations, Artemis Rising Foundation, Good Gravy Films, Jonathan Logan Family Foundation, the Kendeda Fund, and more.
The film has also been supported by a number of individual donors who came on board because they were committed to amplifying the themes of racial justice that are at the center of “Always in Season.” Moved by the storytelling approach and committed to equity and representation in independent documentary, these partners were vital.
Crowdfunding additionally allowed me to continue production during gaps in grant funding. We’ve had hundreds of donors throughout three campaigns who’ve been a part of our community of supporters for the film.
W&H: What inspired you to become a filmmaker?
JO: I named my production company Tell It Media because it’s important that filmmakers, particularly those from marginalized communities, tell their own stories. Questions about who is telling the story, who owns it, and who controls its distribution — and the value of cultural representation in the process of creating films — are topics that need to be explored more deeply industry-wide. Focusing on people who are often overlooked in mainstream media, I’m inspired to create films that reflect the fullness of their highly cinematic lives, and I love every part of the process.
I grew up creating art, sketching and painting until I left it all behind to follow more analytical interests and become a psychologist. After realizing in graduate school that was not quite the field for me, I ultimately came to filmmaking through photography.
My light bulb moment about the power of creating a visual image with film came on a summer day when I photographed my son, who was three years old at the time, rolling a translucent blue ball twice his size down a vibrantly grassy hill. When I developed the image, the composition and light that filled his beautiful brown face and illuminated the ball that was his world at that moment, taught me the power of creating images that don’t just document information, but also convey the feeling of a moment in a way that completely captures the experience.
Photography got me hooked, and I ultimately transferred my knowledge of creating stills to video during the years I spent filming and reporting news for an NBC affiliate station. The quick turnaround with developing and packaging news stories was exciting, but after a few years in journalism, I traded in 60 and 90 second news stories for in-depth narratives of my own.
W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?
JO: The best advice I’ve received about filmmaking was from my graduate school professors in the Documentary Institute at the University of Florida. I studied filmmaking there from 2005 to 2007, and my professors emphasized how important it is to make documentaries about stories that you are passionate about because it usually takes about two years to finish a film. They were spot on about how a deep connection to the story can motivate you to stick with it until the film is completed.
That advice is a nugget that I will always carry with me. But, either I was mistaken about the two year average for making docs or my professors didn’t want to frighten us off, because the 10 years I’ve spent making “Always in Season” is much longer than I would have predicted!
The worst advice I got came when I was developing the project from a few colleagues who warned that it would be nearly impossible to get funding for a film about lynching. They suggested I might want to find another topic. Fortunately, I never thought that would be the case.
W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?
JO: My advice to female-identified adults who are directing films is to believe in the value of your voice. The very essence of your uniqueness is ultimately the place to create from, and your particular voice as a storyteller is what will make your work extraordinary. That’s true with making narrative fiction films as well as documentaries. It also means there’s no need to be competitive about your work because no one else will be able to make a similar film in the way that you do.
For youth who identify as female and want to be directors or are already creating films, my best advice is to find mentors whose careers you’d like to emulate and reach out to them for support. Filmmakers like MacArthur Fellow Stanley Nelson, Emmy Award-winning producer Craig Harris, award-winning director and co-founder of Chicken & Egg Pictures Judith Helfand, and others have very generously shared their time, love for their craft, industry connections, and knowledge with me over the years. Their mentorship has been a gift that I look to pass on to others as often as I can.
W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.
JO: This has got to be the hardest question. One of Ava DuVernay’s first films, “I Will Follow,” and Julie Dash’s “Daughters of the Dust” are at the top of my list. Then there is probably my favorite documentary ever, Lourdes Portillo’s “The Devil Never Sleeps.” She and editor Vivien Hillgrove masterfully use objects metaphorically to tell the story of Lourdes’ journey in Mexico to find out who killed her uncle. The film was created with a poetry that shattered all notions I had about the effectiveness of using literal B-roll footage to carry a story. That film is brilliant and definitely inspires my work.
The other challenge with naming my favorite woman-directed film is that I have so many friends and colleagues in the industry directing incredible projects. They are creating innovative, beautifully artful, and important films all the time!
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?
JO: Since the movements to stop the harassment of women and other female-identified people were launched after the Harvey Weinstein scandal, there has been consistent dialogue in the documentary film industry about sexual harassment and violence, as well as gendered power dynamics in the field. These conversations are great and long overdue, and an even deeper analysis should continue.
Because I’m an independent filmmaker, like a lot of documentary directors and producers, I don’t connect on a daily basis with organizations in the industry, so I haven’t been aware first-hand of much policy change. I do notice that men are, in subtle ways, more careful about their actions and words when working with women, and that’s definitely a good thing. Also, I hear from friends working in the narrative fiction industry that studios have strengthened their policies on harassment and equitable employment.
I attribute these shifts largely to the women and other female-identified people who have courageously spoken up and pushed for change, despite the potential consequences, and all of those who identify as male who use their power to make things better even as they benefit from inequity. The issues are by no means resolved, but removing the silence around all forms of discrimination is the first step towards compassionate dialogue and thoughtful collective action.
