Bernadette Wegenstein is an Austrian-born linguist, author, and documentary filmmaker living in Baltimore. She is a professor at Johns Hopkins University. Her films and books bring together her feminist thought and her interest in human-centric storytelling. She is the recipient of numerous academic, film, and Austrian governmental awards.

“The Conductor” is screening at the 2021 Tribeca Film Festival, which is taking place June 9-20.

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

BW: “The Conductor” is the story of Marin Alsop, a musician who did not take a no for an answer. From the tender age of nine, Marin did not give up dreaming of a profession that did not invite her in and closed every door at her — the profession of classical music conducting. She had to find her own way of learning this craft by teaching herself in secret, forming her own orchestra, and overcoming numerous painful and humiliating rejections by the “institutions” to finally prove them all wrong and become a famous conductor, one of the top ten in the world.

W&H: What drew you to this story?

BW: Because conducting is such a mysterious, almost hidden art — many people aren’t sure what exactly a conductor does — it was really exciting for me to dramatize Marin Alsop’s life story in a documentary. I was attracted by this idea of someone, clearly a genius, studying the art of conducting in secret, something as impossible as studying neurosurgery in her basement. It is also such a satisfying story because Marin not only showed the world that she can do it, but she also helped so many other women and other outsiders in this profession become conductors. She changed history.

Seeing someone who is not a white (European) cis-man conductor in front of an orchestra was utterly unheard of in the history of classical music. In America, it wasn’t until the late 19th century that women were allowed to be members of an orchestra, not to mention they weren’t allowed to be openly gay either. Then it became slowly possible for women to conduct, but still highly unusual, or something to hide or be bad-mouthed about.

I love Marin Alsop’s story because it shows what goes into changing a particular history or canon, and how harsh a culture can be, especially a somewhat hidden one like conducting.

W&H: What do you want people to think about after they watch the film?

BW: I want people to fall for my character Marin Alsop, which they undoubtedly will. She is such an incredible musician. But I also want them to fall for the classical music she herself fell for as a young child listening to one of Bernstein’s legendary Young People’s concerts, the music that she is performing throughout the entire film.

I want them to realize, if they haven’t yet, that “Looney Tunes,” “Star Wars,” and so many other TV and film scores are classical music too. And [I want them to realize] that the symphonies of the Jewish-Austrian Romantic composer Gustav Mahler, who we use heavily in the film’s score, are like a captivating TV-series of nine episodes, containing all of humanity, all the entire gamut of human emotions, from deep fears to high hopes. I even want people to come out of the film humming a melody from Mahler’s “Symphony No. 1” that is playing during the credits, which he described as “moving strongly but not too quickly.”

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

BW: Making a documentary is always a big challenge, but filming a conductor during many live performances was a particular challenge. In Vienna at the famous Konzerthaus, we had to place some of our cameras on the stage and handle them remotely during a live concert.

During the first half of the concert, in fact Marin Alsop’s debut concert, one of the cameras started beeping really loudly, like a truck parking in reverse. A card was full. It was an absolute nightmare. It only lasted for a few minutes but those were hell. Of course, now it’s a great story, but I don’t think I had ever felt worse or more embarrassed. But yes, filming a conductor during live orchestra performances in a captivating vérité style was definitely a big challenge.

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

BW: The film is funded independently. My producer, Annette Porter, and I received several grants to make this film, including from private philanthropic foundations for film and feminist research. We paired the subject matter of the film with these grants and institutions who we thought might be interested in promoting a feminist history such as this one, and classical music in general.

I think my advice to filmmakers is to really be true to the cause or topic of your film, and find backers — whether through grants, crowdfunding, or philanthropy — who fully align with the values of your film. Film funding is often a question of sharing a worldview with your funders.

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

BW: I came to filmmaking after I had already become an academic studying linguistics, semiotics, and anthropology. I felt that thinking about a subject matter was too removed from the actual lived experience of it — understanding it through life and empathizing so deeply as to know how something feels. Film is the medium that comes closest to being alive itself, I think. Plus, it lets you condense the meaning of life into a second, a moment, an image, a sound, that expresses everything. I love that.

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

BW: The best advice I received at an early age came from my mother who always said, “People won’t ever call you back. You must call them.” She was so right. I usually don’t wait for anybody to call me back. I always call first.

The worst advice for me was people telling me to be patient. I don’t think patience gets you anywhere, to be honest. You need to always push for something to happen, and nothing will unless you yourself pick up that phone or write that email.

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

BW: My advice is not only to stick to your original vision, obviously, but to be proud to be a woman or nonbinary or queer director. Film, because it can capture life itself, expresses and reflects an author’s identity so strongly. So, it is really important to celebrate that fact, and to also have people on your film team in the important creative roles of producer, cinematographer, editor, etc. who share that viewpoint with you. You need to see eye to eye with them. These are tricky conversations to have, but it’s better to put them on the table before embarking on a creative journey together.

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

BW: I have many, but one of my favorite directors at the moment is Naomi Kawase. The way she adapts intimate documentary camerawork to her narrative films just amazes me. I love the pacing of her storytelling, the colors, and I adore the lush sound design. There is something so immediate about the encounter with Kawase’s characters, for instance, in her latest “True Mothers.” I also love the way her feminist critique is so subtle but at the same time so strong.

W&H: How are you adjusting to life during the COVID-19 pandemic? Are you keeping creative, and if so, how? 

BW: For me personally, COVID-19 was a productive time. I was able to focus on finishing “The Conductor,” and I was even able to travel back and forth to Vienna to work with my editor three times. In fact, there is something to be said that I was more creative during this time because I had to do less teaching in person and other things. But I do look forward to being around more people again soon.

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?

BW: The example from “The Conductor” I learned is that if you never see a great woman conductor like Marin Alsop perform, it will continue to feel odd to people. What needs to happen is for women conductors to get more visibility. People who are at the margin of a field — it’s the same with filmmaking — have been made to accommodate those in power or in leading roles indirectly or inadvertently by stepping behind them. For instance, the famous story in classical music of Clara Schumann, the wife of Robert Schumann, who was a composer in her own right, but had to look after their eight children and manage their household instead of pursuing her career. This was the 19th century.

So, the actions are: find the film and storytelling talent early among marginalized communities — in schools, through contests, etc. — then populate the established film industry, both in content and in the creative positions, with as many underrepresented stories and people, so they become “normal” one day. As we know, this takes a very long time and you need people who propagate for you such as film funds, festivals, etc. to promote underrepresented content.

Culture is by nature always “old-fashioned” and tries to hang on to old patterns and models. It’s like a bad habit you can’t break. Someone needs to intervene!