When an undocumented Filipina immigrant takes a job as a carer for a terminally ill man, she learns that he, his family and his house may be harbouring a dark secret. Director Paris Zarcilla’s debut feature Raging Grace feels like Rebecca meets His House, with all the rich, manipulative gothic overtones of the former and the pertinent social commentary and visual flair of the latter. It’s a completely captivating work grounded by two wonderful central performances by Max Eigenmann and Jaeden Boadilla as Joy, the carer, and her daughter Grace, respectively. With Raging Grace arriving in UK cinemas on 29th December, DN caught up with Zarcilla – who last featured on our pages with gymnastics-set sibling rivalry drama Pommel – to talk through the personal experiences that informed the narrative of his SXSW Grand Jury prize-winning film, the disturbing, character-driven shot design that creates its perturbing mood, and the disappointing lack of British East and South-East Asian representation in the UK filmmaking scene.
What was the genesis of Raging Grace?
It came from a place of true rage. It was a culmination of breaking through the cookie-cutter mould of the Model Minority, the rise of open aggression towards East and South-East Asians in the UK, and a racist government who stoked that aggression and demonised immigrants, the very kind of immigrants that were supporting an overwhelmed and under-resourced NHS. Filipino nurses and doctors were dying on the front line protecting the British public, my own mother had to come out of retirement to help in care homes. I thought back to the days when I had to accompany my mother when she used to clean houses for upper class family homes and was exposed to the racist micro aggressions of her employers. I was feeling a rage that I had never given myself permission to express. The anger felt dangerous and I needed to put that in a place I could express safely and that was the beginning of Raging Grace.
We make ourselves smaller, socially contort ourselves to fit into definitions of what it is to be a good immigrant, when you truly understand what people have done just to assimilate, horror is the only thing that comes to mind.
What drew you to tell this story of assimilation through the stylistic components of gothic horror?
Immigrants and children of the diaspora have come to learn that assimilation is survival and refusing can threaten our livelihoods, our ability to succeed, our very existence. Assimilation for many has meant having to reject their heritage, their culture and mother tongues just to fit in. The willful rejection of your very being just to survive is a horror to me. We make ourselves smaller, socially contort ourselves to fit into definitions of what it is to be a good immigrant, when you truly understand what people have done just to assimilate, horror is the only thing that comes to mind. Just look at the leaders of our current government. Elements of gothic horror allowed me to confront the nuances and complexities of these issues using recognisable tropes of the genre. It gave me a way to spotlight the micro and macro aggressions so many of us go through in an entertaining visual language that could be understood.
How did you come to collaborate with your Producer Chi Thai? And how challenging was it for you both to get this film off the ground financially?
This film wouldn’t exist without the herculean efforts of Chi Thai. We met in 2018 and have been looking for ways to collaborate on something. We have very similar sensibilities and we both wanted to make work that had something to say. Financially, we were rejected by every single public funding body in the UK. We had every intention of making the film with or without partners and we were going to max out credit cards and take on multiple roles to make it happen. But it was Chi’s tenacity and grit that found us the money to make this film. It’s tragic that the first British Filipino produced film in British cinema history, made by diverse British filmmakers and crew, was financed by American money.
I was looking for something that felt grand but claustrophobic, beautiful but intimidating, inviting but unwelcoming. I wanted it to represent the country we live in.
The location of the house, I imagine, was a key aspect of pre-production to nail, what were you looking for from the location and what made you settle on the house featured in the film?
If there’s anything we’re not lacking in this country it’s aristocratic mansions. They are everywhere and mostly used for wedding venues now because it takes an absurd amount of money to maintain them. So because everyone decided they needed to marry that one month of the year we were shooting, November, there were only a handful that were available. Not only did it need to work for us on a visual level but it also needed to house an entire cast and crew who had to bubble up for four weeks. I was looking for something that felt grand but claustrophobic, beautiful but intimidating, inviting but unwelcoming. I wanted it to represent the country we live in. The floorplan for the house I settled on was the closest to achieving the type of shot choreography I needed which were designed to be very economical. It also happened to be one of Boris Johnson’s preferred holiday homes which we found out while filming. I was disgusted by it but what better place to make a film that shits on their legacy than in a place they like to call home.
The tight yet often distant framing offers such an unsettling ambience, how did you approach the construction of the visual language of Raging Grace?
Developing the right visual language is so paramount to my process, especially as we had a painfully small budget. Shot design had to be economical and considered. I highlighted all the moments where we could really emphasise the main themes of the film and storyboarded those sequences or shots, I have an illustrator background which helped, but these constraints led to some brilliant lensing choices by Joel Honeywell. Because the film deals with many nuanced issues from micro aggressions to British colonialism the visual language had the job of communicating what wasn’t said through dialogue, it was important to find a way to communicate the subtext of the film. For instance, Joy is constantly framed within frames like doors, windows, or behind glass, we made her smaller when speaking to Katherine or Garrett and purposely and uncomfortably framed her out when she was being used by them. We chose to shoot in 4:3 so even when being in a giant mansion it emphasised the constraints and claustrophobia felt by our protagonists.
Shot design had to be economical and considered. I highlighted all the moments where we could really emphasise the main themes of the film and storyboarded those sequences or shots.
Max Eigenmann and Jaeden Boadilla are wonderful as Joy and Grace, how was it casting them? And did you work with them on their chemistry/performances prior to or during the shoot?
They were a joy to cast! When Max Eigenmann read Joy’s monologue she delivered it in such a devastating way which encapsulated the rage and hurt but with so much control. It blew me away. She was brilliant at embodying the comedic elements of her character’s experience without undercutting any of the drama. Jaeden Boadilla’s only experience of acting prior to this film was playing a donkey in her school’s nativity play. She is an extraordinary human being who is very emotionally intelligent. She understood the nuances of character and what it is to want to belong. I just found out she’s been nominated for the Young British Performer of The Year by the London Critics Circle!
When Max arrived from the Philippines, the next day I sent them both on a fun day out, took them bowling and sent them to a nice restaurant so they could get to know each other. But the trust between them was built in the couple of days of rehearsals. I avoided rehearsing lines with them and spoke to them about the responsibility they were both about to inherit portraying these characters on screen.
We’re always interested in how filmmakers make that leap from shorts to features. What has your journey been like? How have you found navigating your career as a filmmaker based in London?
Painful. Just painful. I don’t have a film or TV career here and it’s never been so clear to me that I have to go to where I’m taken seriously, where I’m valued and where there are opportunities. So I’m pivoting my efforts towards the US. I wish this wasn’t the case but this frustration is real and it was given credibility by a report co-authored by Chi Thai called The Exclusion Act, it uses data-driven research to share insight and evidence to the film industry on where inclusion of British East and South East Asians (BESEA) is failing. The headline findings of this study shows that in the past ten years, 0.8% or only 9 out of 1077 British films have been released theatrically by directors with a BESEA heritage. Zero point eight.
The UK has had a history of producing some of the best writers and directors in the world but the support system is failing a whole generation of talent. For me and people like me, the UK is not a nurturing place, it’s a place where your career dies in the notebook margins of development execs who wonder if your stories fit their diversity standards.
And to wrap up, what’s next for you and your filmmaking?
Hopefully some time by a log fire, sitting with my cats with a hot cup of tea. I’ve completed a draft of my next film called Domestic, which is an unlikely heist film about a young Filipino couple who run a cafe in 90s London but on the weekends, set up covert rescue missions to help domestic workers escape their abusive employers. It’s much more a thriller this time round with big doses of drama and comedy.
