Director Conor Dooley’s all-encompassing comedy short Gold and Mud is a tale of one woman’s interaction with love and loss. A story told across a series of intimate vignettes that, when connected, depict many of life’s pitfalls and absurdities. The brilliance of Dooley’s film is in how subtly profound it is. You’ll be watching along laughing at his protagonist Ana (who is played with heart and humility by Ana Fabrega) and her shenanigans but before long you’ll realise that it’s resonating on a much deeper, emotional level. With Gold and Mud recently arriving online DN joined Dooley for a conversation about his short, talking through the creative challenges he set himself from the off, how he shot the majority of the film in his own home, and the tonal balance of heart and fart that he always strives to achieve.
I love a story that can convey such a wide range of experiences and emotions in such a short time, and that’s exactly what I feel you’ve done with Gold and Mud. Where did the idea for the film originate for you?
The idea of this film was born from a few different sources. First of all, I love Ana. We’ve worked together a few times before and I knew I wanted to do something that really showcased her talents. So, that was simmering in my brain. Meanwhile, one night I’m falling asleep and a dialogue exchange comes into my head. It’s the opening shot of the film. I don’t know why I thought of it, but it made me giggle, so I wrote it down. In the morning, I still thought it was funny, but I didn’t know what to do with it. And that’s when the idea of telling a story in a series of brief glimpses started. Creating a CliffsNotes version of some epic life story. These tiny pieces that, when cobbled together, create something that feels much bigger. Then I added the layer of only ever seeing the protagonist. Kind of a reflection of first-person subjectivity. I like to give myself new constraints, so I don’t accidentally repeat myself, creatively. Finally, I needed a place to make light of a lot of fears and anxieties I was dealing with. So, the equation was Ana + dumb peanut joke + self-imposed storytelling challenge + laughing at my own monsters = Gold and Mud.
Once you had the equation of the film’s DNA, how did you approach sourcing your cast and crew to get it made?
I wrote the script over a long weekend and sent it to Ana and she said yes. Then I sent it to everyone else I was hoping would play the various offscreen voices and body parts and hats, and they all said yes. Which made me giddy. Then nothing happened for a very long time because I had no money to make it. But I reached out to Lexi Tannenholtz (We Should Get Dinner), who I had met through a mutual friend, the tremendously talented director Graham Mason, and asked if she would be interested in working on the project with me. She said yes, too. For the record, this was the most yeses in a row I’ve ever received in any aspect of my life. Lexi came on and lit a fire under the project.
The equation was Ana + dumb peanut joke + self-imposed storytelling challenge + laughing at my own monsters = Gold and Mud.
With that momentum, I pitched it to my bosses at Orchard Creative, the ad agency that employs me, and they believed in the vision enough to fund the film under their newly formed Orchard Studios. With money, the film suddenly became very real very quickly. Lexi and I put together a truly amazing crew of folks we’d worked with previously, as well as a few new friends, and started putting our very scrappy production together.
If you don’t mind me asking, what was the most practically challenging part of production? And, given that you were sourcing funds from the ad agency you were working for, were there certain sections of the film that demanded a larger part of the budget?
We shot on 16mm, with our DP Zac Nicholson’s Aaton XTR Prod, so the film stock itself, and processing and everything, ate up most of our budget. But everyone worked so diligently and positively together, it was really the best and smoothest production experience I’ve ever had and I’m so grateful to everyone for it. Our Production Designer Becca Brooks Morrin had the inspired vision to turn my Gowanus rental into almost every shot in the film. The only things not shot at, or right outside, my place were the beach, the horse, the church, and the roller coaster. Every corner was set up for a different scene. We’d shoot in one corner, pan the camera, and shoot a totally different scene in the opposite corner. She’s brilliant. It took us four days. We played a lot of records and smoked a lot of cigarettes (not me, of course, in case my daughter reads this) and had a good time. Long days, but no drama. That was in May.
The only things not shot at, or right outside, my place were the beach, the horse, the church, and the roller coaster. Every corner was set up for a different scene.
Then we spent the summer in post with my group of frequent and selfless collaborators, editing with Ryan Steele at Mackcut, who has such a great sense of pacing and storytelling, coloring with the legendary Tim Masick at Company 3, who had just finished Tár, and mixing with Paul Weiss at Revolve Audio, who has earned his title of Audio Admiral.
How long have you been out on the road with Gold and Mud?
Post-production wrapped in early September of 2022 and we spent 2023 traveling the festival circuit, premiering at Ann Arbor and playing Aspen Shortsfest, Outfest in LA, Palm Springs International Shortfest, Beyond Fest, and about 20 other great festivals throughout the year.
What do you think drives your storytelling the most? Do you have a metaphorical north star you’re striving for?
Whenever I make something, I try to strike the right balance of heart and fart. Real emotion and absurd silliness. Gut punches and belly laughs. That has been my experience in life so far. Hopefully this film hit that mark.
Do you have a particular favourite shot or moment?
I do really like the church shot. That first wedding moment. The film is intentionally pretty claustrophobic, in terms of staging and framing, with the occasional shot that acts as punctuation and sort of opens things up. The beach, the church, the roller coaster, the horse, stuff like that. Personally, I just love when Ana gets to be Ana, so her improvised nervous blathering at the horse ranch is a personal favorite.
When you’re dealing with a narrative told across these small vignettes, did you have to storyboard or plan each shot heavily in order to make them stand out and have an immediate impact?
I did storyboard everything, but each scene really occurred to me, framing-wise, in its final form as I was writing the script, so I wasn’t racking my brain for how to visually tell the story. Just slight variations on how close we are to Ana’s face. The bigger exercise was figuring out the right balance and progression of scenes. Which ones drove narrative, which ones were just there to make a joke, which ones provided a needed tonal shift, stuff like that. And the fewer scenes there are, the more heavy lifting each has to do. Trying to trim as much fat as possible without losing flavor. That’s a steak metaphor. I don’t eat steak any more, but I can still use meat metaphors.
Whenever I make something, I try to strike the right balance of heart and fart.
What can we expect from you next?
Hopefully a feature! I assume that’s a pretty common answer. I have a few sort of running in parallel, one with my frequent collaborator, Eric Paschal Johnson, chatting with Ana about another idea, there’s a show I’d love to pitch THAT WILL MAKE EVERYONE INVOLVED A LOT OF MONEY PLEASE CONTACT ME. Just kidding, sort of. But it’s really just a matter of picking which project to put all my energy behind. But something bigger. And something soon. Knock wood.
