When filmmaker Charlie Reader (last seen on DN here) was approached by funding and distribution company Trust to make a short film exploring final moments or new beginnings he knew exactly what story to tell. Lobo (Wolf), delicately adapted from his own experience with his wife’s battle with visa bureaucracy, explores identity, rediscovery of one’s self and the ever present fact that life has to adapt and move on. Through a heartbreaking narrative focussed around family tensions amid a worrying drought and the ailing health of her beloved dog, we follow a young woman forced to return to her homeland in Brazil and her struggle to adapt back into a life she had left behind. Lobo, led by an engrossing performance from Elaine Fernandes and an astute use of natural lighting and camerawork, immerses us in her journey of loss and acceptance of finding belonging in the roots of family and home. We invited Reader to join us for a chat about the creation of Lobo in which we discuss taking reference from transcendental style cinema for the vision of his film, a layering of sounds in the sonic landscape connecting his story to the location it was shot in and finding separation from the personal inspiration of the film to create an independent world within.
How did Lobo evolve from your own personal experience into the film we see today?
Whilst Lobo is fiction, it’s based conceptually on the experience of my wife. Having faced visa issues in the UK, she was forced to leave the country and return home to Brazil after many years away. I was interested in creating a story about what that could feel like. Having to re-discover your place within your family, a culture, and a place after so much time away. I wanted to explore the transition of going from one life you know into another life that feels much more uncertain.
The film was commissioned by Trust, what support did they offer and how did you work with them and 15-L during the production?
Lobo existed as nothing more than a set of squiggles in a notebook and stayed that way for a year or two. Then, almost out of nowhere, Trust approached me with an invitation to bid on a project thematically based on either “final moments” or “new beginnings”. Returning to that note, I realised I had an idea that perfectly encapsulated both. Trust thankfully connected with the idea and suddenly, through fate or serendipity, the means to make Lobo revealed itself.
15L was my next port of call – they make beautiful, sensitive work and are really lovely people. Carlota Coloma and Adrià Lahuerta just got what I wanted to do and before we knew it, we were jumping into production together. Both Trust and 15L have been amazing. Whilst the film is essentially a commission, Trust gave me full creative licence and were nothing but trusting and supportive throughout the entire process. And it goes without saying that I couldn’t have made Lobo without 15L – it was a film of many challenges such as working with animals, children, weather, and all of the usual obstacles that come with short-films. We were making a film in Portuguese; a language I do not speak, with production in Spanish; a language I study but do not speak fluently but they believed, resolutely, that we could overcome it all.
Lobo is clearly close and personal to you as a story on so many levels. How did you separate yourself from that and write a script which was a fictional telling of the initial inspiration that birthed the film?
Lobo stems from a very personal place and I found the best way to process it was by allowing myself to step away from that. Those squiggles in the notebook were personal truths, events and feelings that inspired me enough to write them down. But I had to then step forward into the world of the film and craft those relatively abstract ideas into something that could be a compelling and engaging story. Once I stepped into that story world, it was possible to expand it, add new ideas, create characters in their own right, and hone their journeys. That’s where the separation is – accepting the inspiration and its proximity to my life, but using it to create an independent story world rather than something biographical. That compartmentalisation made it a lot easier to process, to direct, and to eventually share with a public audience.
I had to then step forward into the world of the film and craft those relatively abstract ideas into something that could be a compelling and engaging story.
What is it in the transcendental style of cinema which inspires you and why did you want to take from this approach in the making of Lobo?
When developing the film, I was figuring out how to visually and stylistically convey the sense of separation that Aline might feel inside and how the family and the physical landscape might feel through her eyes after so much time away. I ended up diving into the world of transcendental style cinema and it immediately felt like the right approach both practically and thematically. Practically, it almost gave me permission to lean into that more observational perspective, holding on longer shots, static frames, letting moments play out – all things that might feel a little uncomfortable at first. And thematically it felt right because of the themes and metaphors of the film, where I was trying to express a spiritual state above all else. It’s all about taking cues. I don’t know whether Lobo would qualify as a strictly transcendental style film, but it was a useful and inspiring reference point for me.
How was the process working in languages which you are not familiar with and how were you able to direct your mostly non-professional actors with whom you couldn’t communicate?
It was challenging! But a very fun and rewarding challenge. The plan was to write a Portuguese script with as little dialogue as possible, in line with the intention to say as much as possible by saying as little as possible. I’d then happily follow the script. The reality was that there were many moments of spontaneous improvisation and I often found myself engrossed in beautiful, natural moments between the characters, whilst being completely unsure of what was being said! Luckily, I had a few things on my side. I speak enough Spanish to get by, which is a language shared with the cast. When my Spanish brain inevitably melted, I could rely on our incredible, Brazilian 1st AD, Mateus Carvalho. He was invaluable along with our Casting Director, Berta Galvany, in helping me keep above-water on the language front. Fortunately, Márcio, who plays Antonio, also speaks English and was able to assist with communication.
There were many moments of spontaneous improvisation and I often found myself engrossed in beautiful, natural moments between the characters, whilst being completely unsure of what was being said.
The film does an impressive job of immersing us in the hot and heady world that Aline is struggling to acclimatize herself to. How did you build that tone?
I believe it’s all in the details, starting with the location. We actually shot the film in Catalonia but it had to really, truly feel like Brazil. Our production designer, Núria López, found the house for sale and it couldn’t have been more perfect. One of the most important tonal aspects for me was creating the connection between the family and the natural world around them. This house not only felt very rural-Brazilian but was also perfectly set in the middle of a dry, natural landscape.
It was not only about layering up textural, earthy, natural sounds, but being able to move through the sonic landscape with the passing of time, rather than it feeling like a generic blanket of sound.
Through this approach of connecting the family to place, the drought-ridden land became an important subtext: the home that no longer serves; the need for renewal; and the real issue of global warming that we all face, but that particularly affects rural communities. To serve this, the sound was really important – I think that “hot and heady” feeling is really felt through the sound design. It was not only about layering up textural, earthy, natural sounds, but being able to move through the sonic landscape with the passing of time, rather than it feeling like a generic blanket of sound. Candela Palencia and Robbie Scott did a beautiful job building the sonic world. In terms of the visuals, Carlos Feher and I were on the same page from the beginning. We put together a lot of references from films like Taste of Cherry, Too Late to Die Young and The Milk of Sorrow and spent time working out how to always place – or refer back – to the natural world from shot to shot.
You stunningly encapsulate the Brazilian countryside and the atmosphere of rural family life there, what cameras and equipment did you use for the shoot?
Thank you! Friend and DOP, Carlos Feher did an incredible job behind the camera. We shot on the ol´ reliable Alexa Mini with Zeiss Super Speeds. We aimed to use natural light as much as possible but, when the weather threw us curveballs, Carlos did an amazing job of reacting and lighting to keep everything consistent. I’ve got to give a shout out to Toby Tomkins at Cheat for his beautiful film-emulation grade as well. For me it’s the perfect accompaniment to Carlos´ light.
What are you working on now and what does the future hold for your filmmaking?
It’s been a wild ride so I’m taking a little time to ground myself. Then I´ll be jumping back into the development of our feature film (based on the same story world as Lobo) and a few other projects that have been on ice. The process of making and sharing Lobo has ultimately left me feeling really inspired and I’m looking forward to whatever plays out next!
