Emmy and BAFTA-nominated director Ursula Macfarlane is known for making films which combine the epic with the intimate, often focusing on marginalized communities or victims of trauma. Her feature documentary “Untouchable,” about the rise and fall of Harvey Weinstein, premiered at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival. Her films have been shown in many territories and include “Breaking Up With The Joneses,” a feature documentary about a couple going through a divorce, “One Deadly Weekend In America,” about young lives cut short through gun violence, “The Life and Loss Of Karen Woo,” a film about a young doctor murdered by the Taliban in Afghanistan, and “Charlie Hebdo: Three Days That Shook Paris,” the story of the Paris terror attacks.
“The Lost Sons” is screening at the 2021 SXSW Film Festival, which is taking place online March 16-20.
W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.
UM: “The Lost Sons” is a mystery story, a stranger-than-fiction documentary about a kidnapping, a family secret, betrayal, and redemption. It begins in a Chicago hospital in 1964 when Paul Fronczak, a newborn baby boy, is kidnapped from his mother Dora’s arms by a woman dressed as a nurse. The police and FBI begin a huge manhunt, but the trail runs cold and the heartbroken parents are left to get on with their lives.
Fifteen months later, a toddler is found abandoned on a street in New Jersey. The boy is taken into foster care and as the year goes by, the FBI begins to suspect that he could be the missing child from Chicago. The parents are brought to Newark to meet him, and Dora cries out, “That’s my baby!”
It’s only decades later that Paul begins to question his identity. Could he really be that kidnapped baby? It seems too good to be true. Paul sets off on a quest to discover what really happened. Two mysteries begin to unravel, and dark family secrets are revealed.
W&H: What drew you to this story?
UM: My starting point was Dora’s loss. I cannot begin to imagine what it would have been like for her to have her baby stolen. That would be my worst nightmare, and I wanted to explore how you would deal with a lifetime of the trauma that would create – how you’d navigate the emotions of your child being returned to you, with all the unanswered questions about what happened to him before he was found.
I was drawn to Paul’s own story and the universal, primal themes it explores as he embarks on his journey to find out his true identity. All of us recognize the need to belong – and many of us have probably had that fantasy at some point in our childhood that we didn’t really belong to our family.
The themes of loss of a child have also figured in my own family’s life: the baby of one of my relatives was taken from her for adoption at the age of six months, and she spent decades wondering how her baby was, and where he was.
I also felt that the project would stretch me personally as a filmmaker – the story is filled with complex, riveting twists and turns and I knew that it would be a huge storytelling challenge.
W&H: What do you want people to think about after they watch the film?
UM: My hope is that the audience will come away with mixed emotions: shock and sadness at the cruelty some humans are capable of, but also a sense of relief and catharsis that some of the questions posed by the film have been answered. For the protagonists in our story, there is some kind of closure and celebration of the true meaning of family. But these emotions will be bittersweet: as the film will show, family relationships can be messy and complicated, and some puzzles can never be solved.
W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?
UM: Finding an ending! Of course I can’t tell you what it is. At one point we really weren’t sure what it would be, or how we would film it but, to our surprise, COVID really helped us. It bought us time to nurture the relationships we needed in order to complete our story in an authentic and emotionally satisfying way.
W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.
UM: Raw in London developed the story with Paul Fronczak, who had written a memoir about his search for his true identity. The project was fully-funded by CNN Films, and Campfire in Los Angeles came on as co-producers.
W&H: What inspired you to become a filmmaker?
UM: As a kid, I caught the directing bug making little Super 8 movies with a school friend in the streets where I grew up, nonsensical little comedy sketches. If I was being pretentious, I’d say we were inspired by Buster Keaton and Monty Python.
Then when I was a student, I lived in Paris in a neighborhood where there was a cinema on every corner. That’s where I had my real film education and experienced the magic of sitting in a darkened room and watching a story unfold – whether the work of Billy Wilder, Martin Scorsese, Claire Denis, Akira Kurosawa, Alfred Hitchcock, François Truffaut, or many others.
W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?
UM: Best advice: Put a piece of yourself into each and every film. You don’t have to tell anyone what it is, or why, but you need to know it for yourself.
Worst: “You’re not ready to do that yet.”
W&H: What advice do you have for other women directors?
UM: Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t. You can. Seek out other women filmmakers who inspire you, and ask them for advice — you’d be surprised how many will be happy to sit down with you and share their knowledge.
As you become more experienced, give back to other young women. Give them breaks and responsibilities, empower them. You can’t do it alone, so find your squad and nurture them.
Work on becoming more resilient — you’ll need it to weather the knocks of this industry – but never lose your sensitivity and vulnerability. They are your superpowers, and they’re what will make you a great director.
And if you’re making documentaries, just take the time to listen to people. They will tell you things you’d never dreamed of hearing. Be curious and passionate, always.
W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.
UM: Too many to choose from! The one I watch over and over with my sons is “Little Miss Sunshine,” co-directed by Valerie Faris, for its winning combination of pathos and hilarity. “Bright Star” by Jane Campion is also a favorite for its cinematic poetry and its intense emotional pull. I’m also a big fan of Andrea Arnold, who always creates a singular world full of energy and authenticity and discovery.
W&H: How are you adjusting to life during the COVID-19 pandemic? Are you keeping creative, and if so, how?
UM: It’s been up and down. Days on Zoom sometimes leave me frazzled and with the sense that we’re going around in circles. And yet, how amazing is it that technology allows us to keep in touch and keep creative. In many ways it’s democratized this industry that can be so hierarchical — suddenly you’re in the room with people who it could take years to get a meeting with. And I’ve attended dozens of virtual Q&As with filmmakers I’d never normally get to meet.
I feel extremely grateful to have been able to continue working through most of the pandemic when many in our industry have been hit very hard, particularly young people at the start of their careers. Like all of us, I’ve had to adapt and learn new skills, give up some control, work remotely with crews I’ve never met and, although I’d rather be there in person, I’m full of pride for what we’ve all managed to achieve.
I can’t wait to return to the life of being able to sit down opposite a contributor, look them in the eye, hear their story, and then eat a meal together. Meanwhile, I am grateful that my loved ones are healthy, and that spring is coming.
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?
UM: I feel that if anything good has come out of this tumultuous past year, it’s to show us that systemic racism and underrepresentation of people of color has to change. I am part of a group of female documentary makers in the UK who fiercely lobbied BAFTA for change after a pitifully small number of people of color were nominated in the 2020 awards.
After the campaign, we did some research into the experiences of women of color in our industry. Maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked — but I was. It was illuminating and humbling. Too many stories of not progressing in the industry while their white colleagues are promoted, of being ignored at work, of their voice not being listened to.
To their credit, BAFTA has embarked on a major project to forge a path towards real structural and cultural change in our industry. But it’s not enough for the beacons of the industry to usher in change; it has to start in the production companies, in their hiring processes and their nurturing of young people of color, in the opportunities they give them.
It’s up to all of us white people, me included, to honestly examine our behavior and change it.
