Tracey Deer is a Mohawk filmmaker and the recipient of this year’s TIFF Emerging Talent Award. Deer is the director, co-creator, and co-showrunner of “Mohawk Girls,” for which she has been honored at TIFF with the Birks Diamond Tribute Award. She was also nominated four years in a row for a Canadian Screen Award for Best Direction in a Comedy Series. Deer chairs the Board of Directors of Women in View, a non-profit that promotes greater diversity and balance in Canadian media, from the standpoint of employment equity, creative authority, and gender representation.
“Beans” will screen at the 2020 Toronto International Film Festival, which is taking place September 10-20.
W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.
TD: Inspired by true events, “Beans” is about a Mohawk girl on the cusp of adolescence who must grow up fast and become her own kind of warrior during the armed stand-off known as the 1990 Oka Crisis. Over the course of a tumultuous and violent summer, she loses her innocence and learns the hard way that being different comes at a very high cost. In the end, she finds her voice and the strength to stand up for what she believes in.
W&H: What drew you to this story?
TD: “Beans” is very much inspired by my own coming-of-age journey. I was 12 years old when I lived through the Oka Crisis and it had a profound impact on my identity as an Indigenous woman. I drew both positive lessons about the importance of standing up for what you believe in and learned firsthand about the incredible resilience of my people — but I also learned that the world was a dangerous place because of my difference.
With this film, I want audiences around the world to experience what it was like to be in the crosshairs of so much hate and anger, at such a young age, and the destructive impact it had on me and my people. These kinds of experiences shatter innocence, confidence, and hope.
Even though this film takes place in 1990 and shows how bad things were, these messages of intolerance, ignorance, and indifference are still being heard loud and clear across this country today. We live it every day.
Like an infection, hate and anger spreads and multiplies on both sides. We must stop this cycle of violence to protect the next generation from repeating the mistakes of our past and, shamefully, our present.
W&H: What do you want people to think about after they watch the film?
TD: All of my work has centered bridge building by fostering greater awareness, compassion, and solidarity towards Indigenous people so that the world doesn’t have to be such a hostile place for my people, or for anyone vilified as “Other” by the ruling majority.
With “Beans,” I want audiences to experience the complex reality of being an Indigenous person through the heartbreaking and disturbing experiences of racism, hate, and exclusion and the toll these experiences can take.
I want our children to grow up confident that they are safe in this world – and that their lives and dreams are important. For that to happen, we need social and racial equity. I made this film to inspire audiences to open their hearts and minds to living as allies of Indigenous people. We need their friendship, support, and action for society to change for the better.
W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?
TD: The biggest challenge in making this film was at script phase. We went through countless drafts over the years to finally arrive at the story we wanted to tell. My co-writer, Meredith Vuchnich, and I agonized over every detail, every nuance.
Because the story is so personal to my own experience and my community, I felt a lot of self-applied pressure to “get it right.” That pressure sometimes was so great that I couldn’t write. I’m really grateful I had Meredith to work with because her support, passion, and expertise were invaluable.
W&H: How did you get your film funded?
TD: We had the support of many funding agencies in Canada: Telefilm Canada, SODEC (Société de Développement des Entreprises Culturelles), Canada Media Fund, The Canadian Film Center, The Harold Greenberg Fund, Bell Media, CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation), and the Tax Credit Programs.
W&H: What inspired you to become a filmmaker?
TD: I was 12 years old when the commercial VHS player made it possible to watch movies at home and I was instantly hooked. We couldn’t afford our own machine, but my father would rent one every weekend from the local video store in our community along with a dozen films. I would spend my entire weekend visiting new places, connecting to characters and allowing myself to feel.
It provided a safe place for emotional release; it provided an escape from a complicated and difficult adolescence. Every weekend I would declare a new career path for my future based on a particularly inspiring film, until one day it finally hit me — if I made films, I would get to experience and share so many different stories and possibly even inspire someone watching.
I told my parents over dinner, through tears because I was so nervous that they would disapprove — they didn’t — and I’ve been singularly focused on this goal ever since.
W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?
TD: The best advice I received early in my career was from Catherine Bainbridge, the first producer to take me under her wing. She told me to find the stories that only I could tell. I’m really grateful because it completely shifted my eager-to-please and desperate-to-work mind frame away from pleasing others to focusing on work I can be proud of.
The worst advice I’ve ever received was to be “realistic.” I’ve met plenty of people who have dismissed my dreams and encouraged me to get my head out of the clouds. I think this kind of advice, often given to protect people from disappointment, is very detrimental. Staying small and playing it safe is not the path to fulfillment and joy, so I’m glad I never let that advice take hold.
W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?
TD: I think for a long time I tried to erase my gender from the equation to figure out how to “direct like a man,” since it’s such a male-dominated field. I wanted to prove I could be just as good. Don’t do that!
Every director is different; there is no one standard on how to do the job, so do it your way. Don’t try to fit any kind of mold, perceived or imposed, because the effort to do so will impede your creative potential. Do you, loud and proud.
W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.
TD: It’s really hard to pick a favorite because there are so many incredible films by women to choose from. At the top of my list is the documentary “Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance” by Abenaki filmmaker Alanis Obomsawin.
This film documented the Oka Crisis from an Indigenous perspective, which provided a powerful counter-narrative to how the mainstream media portrayed us, and marked my first exposure to Indigenous filmmaking. As a young Indigenous woman, it was incredible to see our side presented like this and it gave me hope that I could achieve my dream of becoming a filmmaker, too.
W&H: How are you adjusting to life during the COVID-19 pandemic? Are you keeping creative, and if so, how?
TD: For the first few months, there was no room for creativity. I was emotionally overwhelmed and heartsick by all of the pain, sadness, and fear that the whole world is suffering through because of the pandemic. I was also hit with a very big existential question around this deep conviction I’ve always felt about being a filmmaker: Did any of it really matter in the face of so much loss and tragedy?
It was a colleague who pointed to the fact that everyone is watching content in record numbers right now to get themselves through this troubling time, and that is our contribution. That helped me to reconnect to my passion for storytelling. And my therapist has been helping me process my feelings so I’m not so creatively paralyzed anymore.
W&H: Recent protests in the U.S. and abroad have highlighted racism and anti-Black police brutality. 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?
TD: It’s a very simple fact that you don’t know what you don’t know. So if you don’t know, move aside and make room for storytellers who do know. Best intentions don’t cut it. “Good ideas” made in a vacuum are useless.
The notion that any filmmaker can tell any story is arrogant and appalling. We need our white colleagues to recognize their privilege, understand their inherent blind spots and biases, and admit to what they don’t know. That’s how we cultivate authenticity, depth, and truth to elevate our industry — by giving us a seat at the table.
