Maryam Keshavarz is an Iranian-American writer and director. While pursuing her MFA at NYU, Keshavarz’s short film “The Day I Died” won the Gold Teddy and Jury Special Mention Prize at the Berlin International Film Festival. Keshavarz’s first narrative feature, “Circumstance,” won the Audience Award at Sundance Film Fest, Best First Film at the Rome Film Festival, and the Audience and Best Actress Awards at Outfest.

“Viper Club” began screening at the 2018 Toronto International Film Festival on September 11.

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

MK: The premise of our film — and the spine of our story — is predicated on one question: What does a woman without money, contacts, or a support structure do when her only child is taken from her? 

W&H: What drew you to this story?

MK: Jonathan Mastro, my co-writer, and I began with the premise that this story should be told from a single character’s point of view, and we wanted that character to be a strong older woman. We wanted to explore our own anxieties about the state of America and the world today — our feelings about violence, class, and alienation from our government — through Helen’s story.

This film has many inspirations, both political and personal: Jonathan’s relationship with his own mother and the Catholic church, my experiences with my father, who was a doctor in Bed Stuy in the ‘80s, my brother who was head of pediatric ER at Mt. Sinai, and my grandfather who was a political poet in Iran. Jonathan’s children are the same age as those who were murdered in Sandy Hook; I have a young daughter the same age as the Syrian girl in our film. We are both trying to figure out how to raise our children in a culture that is pervaded by violence, both here and abroad.  

Both of us grew up without money and share a passion for the underdog and have an enormous respect for journalists. I have made films in Iran and Lebanon and have felt at times unsafe working there; I can relate to people who have put themselves at risk to tell a story they feel the world needs to hear. 

When the journalists Tim Hetherington and Chris Hondros were killed in Libya, I was deeply affected by their deaths and drawn again to their life’s work. Then, when Anthony Shadid, Steven Sotloff, and James Foley were kidnapped and killed, the dangers journalists faced took on a new resonance for me.

We researched their stories, and the stories of aid workers like Kayla Mueller, and realized, to our dismay and shock, that American anti-terrorism laws — unlike those in Europe —  prohibited the paying of ransom. And I thought that these people’s predicament reflected a greater anxiety in American culture: the sense that government was failing to provide for its working-class citizens. Our response, and the larger theme of the film, is that we make our own community.

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

MK: Our health care system seems to be in perpetual crisis, our journalists are under attack both here and abroad, and mass shootings have become a monthly event.

The danger is numbness, which comes from a sense of powerlessness and alienation. Helen deals with those same feelings, but emerges from her isolation to realize there are people around her who care.

I hope that through connection with Helen and her story, the audience’s empathy will be reawakened and they will seek support from — and provide it to — those around them.

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

MK: Just one? Haha.

I had a lot of financiers interested in the project, but most wanted me to change the ending. That was a no-go for me. In the fictional world of my characters, I wanted to explore how class affected access to information and access to resources. I simply didn’t know what the film would mean with a different ending, it felt false.  

And it’s always challenging moving from a completely independent film like “Circumstance” where I had 100 percent freedom in the creative filmmaking process from my producers and financiers — minus military on set trying to confiscate our film—  to a larger budget film where so many contrasting desires and tastes have to synthesized into a film.

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

MK: The film was about to be funded in a more traditional way —  through multiple private investors, an MG from a sales company, and pre-sales — but the deal was ultra-complicated with so many moving parts. In the final hour, my agents at ICM, Christina Bazdekis and Bart Walke,  reached out to me about sending the script to YouTube. I thought there was some mistake, as I envisioned “Viper Club” as a film for theaters, especially because Susan Sarandon was attached.

I was in Portugal at the time, and I didn’t take it seriously. I didn’t even respond to the first few emails. Then on a Thursday my agent called asking if it was cool if she sent the script and if I would be willing to talk with them via Skype. Not thinking much of it, I said OK – as long as they wouldn’t ask to change the ending and they would promise a theatrical roll out. Again, I thought the whole idea was crazy, and didn’t take it seriously.

They got the script on Friday. We had a follow-up Skype call the next week on Tuesday, and they basically offered to finance the film as their first original drama by the very next day. It was kind of crazy. One simple deal but we would be their first.

As an indie filmmaker, I was interested in how YouTube had shaken up the world and was such a vital tool, along with Twitter, in political movements such as the Green Wave in Iran and the Arab Spring across the Arab World; it was truly an egalitarian platform, for better or worse. For this particular story, they felt like an exciting partner: one willing to take risks.

And for the theatrical component, YouTube talked to a few distributors and ultimately landed with Roadside Attractions. Of course, I was thrilled because I had a history with Roadside – they had released my last film and we had recently sold a pilot together. I really trusted that Roadside understood me as a filmmaker, so in that regard I felt a level of protection.

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

MK: 9/11. When 9/11 happened, I was in the throws of doing a PhD in Middle Eastern Studies – and was on sabbatical at Berkeley. I felt disillusioned with being safely in the ivory tower of academia. I felt I needed to work in the media. I needed to tell a different narrative, with a more complex and nuanced POV.

I was witnessing reductive dehumanizing media coverage that helped incite an intense hostility of “Middle Eastern-looking” people in America. It was an echo of what I experienced as a kid growing up in New York City in the midst of the Iranian hostage crisis. Beatings, broken windows, slashed tires, bullying, and ongoing threats.

I needed to tell a different narrative. I needed to tell our stories.

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

MK: Best advice: “Write what you know.” From my writing professor at NYU, Hampton Fancher.

I took a feature writing class with Hampton my last year in the MFA program at NYU. He was an amazing guy, and a real champion of my work. At the time, my feature doc “The Color of Love” was showing at the MOMA’s Documentary Fortnight series, and he came and led a standing ovation. As a student, his attendance was really meaningful to me. We hung out afterwards, we spoke about “The Color of Love,” which features several of my family members in Iran. I spoke more in depth about my crazy immigrant Iranian family, and all my time spent in the summers traveling back to see family in Shiraz.

Then when I wrote the first draft of a script for his class, I can’t even remember the title, he called me into his office. “Such a well written script, but it’s a false,” he said. The script was about an all girls boarding school in New Orleans. He probed, “Why write about this subject? Write what you know. Why not write about your experiences with your family?” I told him this was a fiction class, not a doc course. But he pushed me, “You can create a fictional world about a landscape that only you know. As an Iranian-American, you have a different perspective of over there, Iran, and here, America. Channel that into a fictional story.” So with that advice, I wrote the first draft of my screenplay “Circumstance.” That eventually became my debut film.

I continue to employ this advice in different ways. When writing about a subject that I know nothing about, I still try to write from what I know. I filter people I’ve known, those I understand and often those I never could understand, into the characters I write.

Worst advice: Always put dogs in your scripts. People love dogs. From a producer.

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

MK: Don’t ask permission.

First, I would say develop your craft in whatever form that takes. Do an MFA program, make a film with friends, write stories and scripts and share them with people you trust, take classes at the local non-profits and community college, engage with films and learn from the greats masters in the U.S. and abroad. I think women and minorities need to be 10 times more prepared and knowledgeable of their craft. That’s of course just the starting point.

My biggest advice is to find community and build your networks. Develop them while you are in school, when you are on set, when you attend a film festival, when you participate in programs at local non-profits. Find the places and people that will champion and nurture you. Seek mentors – male and female. Develop your voice and vision. And then when you get your foot in the door, remember to pay it back.

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

MK: Way too many. So many powerful films made by women that rank as my favorites.

Susanne Bier’s “Brothers,” because it shows the true toll of war on a single family. Kathryn Bigelow’s “The Hurt Locker,”  because I’ve always wanted to direct action and she really paved the way. Lucrecia Martel’s “La Niña Santa,” because of its sensuality and refusal to give you a neat third act.

Marielle Heller’s debut “The Diary of Teenage Girl,” because of its rawness and innovative use of animation. Mira Nair’s “Monsoon Wedding,” because it examined the politics of family. Lina Wertmüller’s “Swept Away,” because of its controversial gender and class politics. Margarethe von Trotta’s “Hannah Arendt,” for finding a way to make philosophy riveting. Laura Poitras’ “The Oath,” because of her relentless pursuit of connection and truth. Deepa Mehta’s “Fire,” because it dared to examine female sexuality in conservative environments.

I could keep going!

W&H: Hollywood and the global film industry are in the midst of undergoing a major transformation. What differences have you noticed since the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements launched?

MK: I don’t think change happens overnight. But I think the public acknowledgement of systemic discrimination against woman has had an important psychological effect on women: women no longer have to wonder if they are “imagining discrimination” or if they were “as good as their male counterparts,” and so forth.

It’s inspiring that people around the globe are now having serious conversations about sexual harassment and women’s right to equality in the workplace. I think hard conversation are being had and there is a growing awareness that the Hollywood system as it stands is not sustainable.

I think the practically of the #TimesUp movement has directly led to more women getting in the room to at least be considered for jobs. More people are at talking about the need to have women and minorities at all levels of our industry, and let’s hope that leads to more tangible opportunities.