Initially inspired by an all too common misreading of the classic novel Lolita in her younger years, filmmaker Victoria Singh-Thompson – last featured on Directors Notes with her caught between cultures coming-of-age drama Don’t Forget To Go Home – wanted to depict the complex layers of trauma and how it affects the way we see the world. The resulting film 14 in February is a fragmented and haunting look at the world through the eyes of a young hard-of-hearing schoolgirl who isn’t yet able to process the experiences she has undergone and dissociates from her memories. The immersive and quietly shocking short is as visually still as it is emotionally frantic, with a focused lens pulling us into its young protagonist’s point of view, accented with purposeful jarring sounds which as a package, disturb and succeed in creating the unease that Singh-Thompson wanted. Making a welcome return to DN’s pages, we spoke to Singh-Thompson about the years of agonising over the script until she felt it was right, and the crucial editing experimentation required to convey the painful and disjointed memories central to the short.
Can you tell us about the origins of 14 in February?
The idea for 14 in February first came to me when I read Lolita when I was 13. At first, I misread it, like many young girls who maybe shouldn’t have been reading it yet, but I eventually came to understand it was a beautiful book about a truly horrific subject told from the point of view of someone monstrous. I wondered if you could make a beautiful film about this horrific subject but from Lolita’s point of view. Over the years, the idea evolved as I read more about C-PTSD from psychologists such as Judith Herman, specifically about dissociation and how a traumatised child’s brain processes reality, time and space. I wanted to incorporate these findings into the existing cultural context of how these stories have been told and try to explore a new way of expression.
The script’s visuals centred around objects and landscapes more so than people due to the lead character, Arabella’s, dissociative point of view. I owe the beauty of the cinematography to my DOP, Sam Chiplin. We were open to where our instincts took us on the shoot days, keeping the possibilities wide open. Through the sound design we were able to create a soundscape that was authentic to our Hard of Hearing protagonist but also conveyed key story ideas. I myself am Hard of Hearing so it was wonderful to be able to depict what that feels like on screen. The balance was then achieved in the edit, where we were always trying to convey the point of view of Arabella’s mind dissociating – focusing somewhere else in the landscape – but still depicting the story, the person and the moments causing these splits.
The script was the thing I struggled with the most. There were so many drafts and different versions – it took years! The crafting was demanding as I had to find the right balance regarding what was logistically possible, comprehensible, and meaningful.
How exhaustive was the research process you underwent to authentically tell this story?
It took years and years of research to come to a place where the script felt authentic and balanced. The film had to be from the child’s perspective. From Lolita’s perspective. In a way that was authentic to how children experience the world. I got most of my guidance for this from literature and psychology written by women and survivors more so than film which is still deeply rooted in a Hubert way of seeing young girls. But a few pieces of culture and art are intertextually referenced in the film by the characters and film language – Death in Venice with its use of the romantic piece of Mahler’s third over close-ups of Dirk Bogarde staring at Björn Andrésen on the beach is directly referenced – Interestingly I recommend the 2021 documentary The Most Beautiful Boy in the World about Björn Andrésen who plays the young boy in Death in Venice and the trauma of being sexualised as a child in the film and in its aftermath.
We were always trying to convey the point of view of Arabella’s mind dissociating – focusing somewhere else in the landscape – but still depicting the story, the person and the moments causing these splits.
I wanted to be well versed in every way this subject matter had been told before and researched a vast body of film including films such as Mysterious Skin, American Beauty and Todd Soloandz’s body of work. As well as a vast array of literature such as Excavation, Being Lolita, Blackbird, Patrick Melrose, The History Birds, etc. before I felt confident in my script.
Can you talk to us about the stillness of your shots and the decision to focus on the outside world, items in her bedroom, the electricity lines, the bug on a plate, etc.
I think it had many functions. It was about creating a tone of uneasiness, of something being wrong, of something being off but never being able to place your finger on it. At a more basic level, the shots were to convey the perspective of our protagonist Arabella who is experiencing the world from a dissociative point of view. Where the coverage of the moment is of objects and things that are seemingly insignificant to ground traumatic memory and create a stream-of-consciousness style of viewing the world. Some of the insert shots were also about creating a sense of isolation and of Arabella wanting to escape – of looking to the outside world in a state of longing. For me, that is what the closing shot of the film is about.
There is a blurring of the background shots which focus on Arabella and Mr. Chapman, they become almost menacing. Was this the intention?
Yes it was. I think in a sense Mr. Chapman is present in so much of the film but you never see him because the memory is focused elsewhere i.e. on the outside of a window. When you do see him on screen it is meant to convey the overwhelming power and dominance he has over Arabella. We wanted him to feel large and take up the screen and make Arabella seem small – which she is.
Amelia Kroehnert is captivating, her innocence is paired with a maturity which seeps through the screen. How did you develop her performance together and can you talk about your direction of her during the shoot?
Amelia was extraordinary and was the clear pick for us in the callbacks, as she was able to articulate the loneliness she knew the character of Arabella was experiencing. She showed a self-awareness and work ethic towards crafting a naturalistic performance that was really vital. Though Amelia was a first-time deaf actor she had a background in dancing, so she was used to the idea of performance which was very important – without any of the hang-ups of child acting. Any of the fake-ness. She was able to perform in front of the crew and camera and feel comfortable.
For each shot, I would decide the emotion or physical action I wanted and direct her to achieve that specific action or expression almost like choreographing dance rather than doing any scene analysis
When talking to her about the film and character it was very important I always met her where she was at, to whatever her existing frame of reference and experience was. For each shot, I would decide the emotion or physical action I wanted and direct her to achieve that specific action or expression almost like choreographing dance rather than doing any scene analysis, etc. Her safety and enjoyment were always paramount to the film – she had a great time on set and enjoyed that the character barely had any dialogue because she didn’t like learning lines.
What discussions and references were you and Sam Chiplin drawing from for the cinematography which has a revelatory intimacy to it?
We were talking a lot about the unseen moments – the gaps you don’t see – we tried to build a world that was felt but not seen by the audience. We definitely went to some dark places but it was satisfying creative work. The references included Andrea Arnold’s films American Honey and Fish Tank, The Quiet Girl, Clean Shaven, and Gus Van Sant’s Elephant – films that had simplicity, beauty and intimacy to their naturalism.
The school bell and door closing were important motifs that symbolise Arabella and Mr. Chapman’s time together.
Given Arabella’s hearing impairment, sound is obviously integral to her experiences and to the sonic landscape of the film.
As much as the visuals were about creating a fragmented pov, so too was the sound. I wanted the sound to reflect both the inner and outer world of Arabella. Adding to the complexity is Arabella’s hearing loss – so you’re also hearing sound through amplification and periods of silence. The school bell and door closing were important motifs that symbolise Arabella and Mr. Chapman’s time together. Inspired by the lines in Being Lolita by Alisson Wood: “The series of bells became our song – the first meant I could go to him; the middle that I was almost there, … the third that I was inside his classroom, a ring of safety.” I wanted to further this and explore the sound as it became more menacing and foreboding. Symbolising oppression and entrapment. Once Arabella’s sense of structure falls apart the sound becomes distorted as we dip into the messy and unsorted memories and emotions.
The fragmentation of her dissociation and memory is sharp and concise in the confusion. Were you aware of the structure you were looking for when you went into the edit and how did you know you’d hit the right beat with the frantic montages and visceral warping of time?
In the edit, my editor Lily Davis and I rewrote the film to create the this feeling of dissociation. I wanted to show that a lot of time was passing and that there was lots of time being spent together but that the film was all out of order. Creating a slow burn of a short film. We went off of instinct – at the time it felt as though it could have been no other way. The film in a strange way makes sense to me – I can’t explain it. We used the car rides as the structure. The locker moment is key – it’s where everything sort of breaks down.
I find it really encouraging that filmmakers with a disability are allowed to make films that don’t fit into inspiration porn or fit into nice narratives for able bodied people to consume.
Can you tell us about being supported by Screen New South Wales through the Screenability Filmmakers Fund and what it means to have initiatives like this dedicated to bringing underrepresented voices to screen.
The Screen NSW initiative of the Screenability Film Fund was so truly invaluable. I would not have been about to make the film without it. I find it really encouraging that filmmakers with a disability are allowed to make films that don’t fit into inspiration porn or fit into nice narratives for able bodied people to consume. Filmmakers with disabilities are allowed to make films that are abstract and poetic just as much as other people are. These initiatives are important to help build a more diverse landscape of culture and art with perspectives that have been historically ignored.
What are you going to focus your talents on next?
I am working on my debut feature about a group of friends in their 20s who go into the Australian bush to celebrate New Year’s Eve under the influence of drugs and alcohol despite the threat of an impending mega bushfire. It’s a psychological thriller that explores the pressures of climate anxiety on the next generation and how we must overcome the very societal structures that have led to the disaster itself.
