Myriam Verreault made a name for herself by co-directing, scripting, producing, and editing “West of Pluto,” her critically-acclaimed 2019 feature debut. The film went on to be screened at some 50 festivals around the world. In 2011, she directed the web documentary “My Tribe is My Life” for the National Film Board. In 2014, she edited Mélanie Carrier and Olivier Higgins’ “Québékoisie,” a Jutra-nominated documentary that explores the relationship between Quebecers and Indigenous people. Verreault currently directs “5e RANG,” an ICI Radio-Canada television series.
“Kuessipan” will premiere at the 2019 Toronto International Film Festival on September 8.
W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.
MV: It is the story of a young Innu woman who witnesses the turbulent and joyful happenings of her best friend and family members, and tries as best as she can to build a story of her own, torn between her personal identity and the collective identity of her community.
W&H: What drew you to this story?
MV: What drew me to this particular community is almost indescribable: a very strong desire to know the people and help to shine a spotlight on their stories. But I was particularly inspired to tell a story of a strong friendship between two very different girls when my co-writer Naomi [Fontaine] introduced me to her cousin and childhood best friend. Naomi was a university student and successful writer who had traveled the world; her cousin was going through a difficult time as a young mother of three children who were under youth protection, as she was fighting a drug addiction.
They were so different in their appearance, in the lives they led. We went to the beach for a stroll. I was immediately fascinated by their camaraderie; they laughed together, spoke to each other in their maternal language. It was as if they were still little girls. I thought it was very beautiful.
W&H: What do you want people to think about when they are leaving the theater?
MV: Our function as filmmakers is not to direct a viewer’s thoughts, but rather, to stimulate them and to enrich his or her viewpoints.
On the other hand, I believe that many viewers will leave the cinema and reach out to their own childhood friend, the friend we have lost touch with, that knows them intimately but that now leads a life completely different from ours. This bond with our first friend is very strong and enduring.
W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?
MV: There were a lot of them! Funding was challenging because institutions had to be convinced about hiring non-professional actors, something I was committed to from the start. The other major challenge was to marry cultures in a respectful way between the film production team and the people of the Innu community who welcomed us and worked with us.
We wanted the process to be a true cultural exchange, on equal footing, and for that to happen, we had to shoot on location in the community, about 14 hours outside of Montreal, and train people who had no experience working in film. But I didn’t see it as a risk, but rather as the only option — that’s what we had to do.
I believe that the sincerity that emerges from the film comes from this sincerity in the making of the film. Human experience was our number one priority. This was a challenge because the decisions made to respect this philosophy were not always in line with industry standards that tend to focus on time, money, and efficiency.
W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.
MV: In Quebec, we are fortunate to have a public funding system for our films. This is the main reason why our national film industry is so vibrant. Sodec and Telefilm Canada, two government agencies, are the two largest investors. The other side of the coin is that there is particularly fierce competition for access to this money and the funding phase can take a long time, which was the case for us. Four years of repeated requests before getting a first yes.
W&H: What inspired you to become a filmmaker?
MV: I grew up watching American blockbusters. Although they entertained me a lot, these films never inspired me to pursue a career in film. I saw it as a purely technical job such as being an aviation engineer or a chemist. I had the idea of becoming a director when I was 22 years old and discovered the cinema of the New Wave, created in the 1960s in France, the United States, and Quebec. Jean-Luc Godard, John Cassavetes, Claude Jutra, Pierre Perrault, and Agnès Varda created deeply personal films. Suddenly, I realized that I too could express myself with a camera as a painter can with his brushes or as a writer can with a pencil.
W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?
MV: The worst advice: “Don’t read books on classic storytelling. It gives formatted stories!” This is bad advice because I think you have to know the rules of storytelling to be able to have fun with them in an elegant way afterwards. It is true that it is dangerous to tell agreed stories when we apply a model; it is like making numbered paintings and does not have great artistic value.
On the other hand, I believe that too many filmmakers are not familiar enough with these storytelling theories and, by believing that [models lead to structured stories], they won’t excel as scriptwriters. These rules have existed since the beginning of time and govern the tales and legends told for thousands of years. It’s like the law of gravity: you can’t be against it. It just exists.
Once we understand it well, we can explore possibilities around this law. The same is true for the “laws” of scriptwriting. They exist; they work and once we have them well, we can create innovative and captivating stories that have fun with the codes.
The best advice: “Be real.”
W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?
MV: If you have impostor syndrome, it’s the first thing to treat. Almost every female filmmaker I know has it. I myself have suffered from this for a long time. I’m just starting to get rid of it and, despite my accomplishments, it sometimes comes back to haunt me. We are often overwhelmed by doubts about our ability to work in a high level professional environment despite the accumulated experience that proves otherwise. I think this syndrome also partly explains why there are fewer women directors than men.
W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.
MV: “Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Brussels” by Chantal Akerman. It is a masterpiece of modern cinema and particularly touches me with its desire to show a type of character that is usually invisible in cinema. It also shows all the small daily actions of this housewife with respect and love in the frame and editing.
As a filmmaker, we are often told what is catchy about film and what is boring, but these tips are tinged with a male view of the history of film. Akerman unfolds a totally captivating story by playing with the codes of classic storytelling.
W&H: What differences have you noticed in the industry since the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements launched?
MV: In Quebec, these movements took off at the same time, as a long battle for parity obtained significant victories. Funding institutions have promised equal measures in the selection of projects and the horizon has opened up for women filmmakers in the province. Even though I had succeeded in building a career in this industry before these measures came into effect, I feel that the glass ceiling has finally broken. But we must remain vigilant! We are never immune from a return of the pendulum.
