The work of filmmaker Andrew De Zen has populated DN’s pages for many years. He’s a filmmaker we keep coming back to because of his ability to tie together impactful imagery with emotionally driven storytelling. His latest short Let This Feeling Go is another example of this, an experimental dance short about a young woman who is primed to explode after she bottles up her emotions. As we follow her across her daily life, the music of Nina Simone is used to build an underlying tension that culminates in a powerful and cathartic expressive dance-driven finale. With the film now online, DN caught up with De Zen once again to learn about the journey he went on with Let This Feeling Go, the decision to capture the film on large format 65mm film, and his inherent desire to steer away from the explicit and towards the abstract.
What initiated the filmmaking journey of Let This Feeling Go?
It was the tail end of Covid. Things were feeling a bit stale. Whenever I could get away I would go up to this isolated cabin on an island in the woods north of Toronto. After one of these trips I was driving back and Sinnerman by Nina Simone came on. As I drove past forests and trees a whole film imprinted itself into my mind so clearly and viscerally that my north star through the making of this film was to just capture what I felt during that drive home. It was such a complete explosion of feelings, desires, and pure expression, it was one of those things where you have no choice but to follow through.
Your films are always so visually distinctive. Were there any artists whose work you looked at prior to the making of this short?
From the outset I wanted to take the graphicness of Paweł Pawlikowski’s Cold War and Ida with the pure fluid energy of Steve McQueen’s Lover’s Rock. I love juxtaposing ideas in this sort of way. These films all have deep emotions boiling right under the skin of the films and their characters that sometimes seep through the pores or blow the lid off the top.
What were the biggest hurdles you had to overcome in order to get the project made?
There were the more obvious obstacles like shooting during COVID in tight locations, but the two real challenges were building the film with the track in mind and finding our star. The whole film was intended from the start to be a one woman show in the likeness of a Frances Ha or Cleo From 5 to 7. So finding Naika Toussaint was such a relief because she had the innate ability to seem still yet ready to explode.
Shooting on 65mm film was a way to mix intimacy with grandness, making a close up of a face as powerful and ‘large’ as possible.
I’m fascinated to know more about the process of shooting on 65mm, it’s quite an uncommon format these days. What was it about that type of film that prompted you to use it?
I love to try new things out and experiment with different tools. Film is a must for me on my own films. I’ve shot on it many times now and aside from all the technical arguments of film vs digital, I love the magic of having to wait for dailies and letting the randomness of an organic chemical process affect the image. Shooting on 65mm film was a way to mix intimacy with grandness, making a close up of a face as powerful and ‘large’ as possible. Smashing two contrasting approaches together. We shot on the Fries Mitchell 65mm film camera and that thing is an emotionally sensitive monster. It will yell at you. Rip through film like nothing I’ve seen. Make strange noises. And it’s a real heavy boy… I loved it.
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It’s a short film but an intense one, on an emotional level. How did that affect the shoot?
It was an intense, quick shoot that went by in the blink of an eye. Working with Naika the whole time was the standout because we got to play and explore deeper emotions, sometimes more surreal abstract thoughts, and I always love following that rabbit hole down down down and seeing where it will take us.
Was there anything that changed or evolved within the short during the course of production?
There was a big change from the initial concept to the final film that was a new experience for me. The initial pitch of the film was about a young woman desperately needing to express herself while exploring the desire to be together again with people. Through the making of the film it became solely one woman’s journey following her self-expression. That shift in the core idea changed the film ultimately for the better but it was quite a challenging edit to get right.
Even if we’re happy I try to see if there are any gut instincts or feelings worth chasing.
How so? What became so challenging about that shift in narrative?
This edit was quite challenging because once the film changed to a purely solitary journey following this one woman it was less about trying to force it into something and more about listening to where it naturally needed to land. At this point my editor, Michael Barker, and I have a pretty solid relationship where I swear he can read my thoughts and even understands my half-mumbled sounds. We always explore and try things out. Even if we’re happy I try to see if there are any gut instincts or feelings worth chasing. So Michael and I kept sculpting until we found the more surreal and abstract tone that we knew this needed to have. That took some time to get right.
Could you take us through your journey with sound in the film, was there anything specific you were looking to do with that aspect of the short?
I love sound design. Full stop. I try to use sound the same way you use cuts. It’s there from the beginning as a motivator to what comes next instead of just something to think about later. Constructing the sound and the use of Sinnerman was always about reaching a huge explosion of catharsis. What does it feel like from this person’s perspective and how is that experience skewed by what she is feeling? The song itself is there under the surface coming in and out.
I try to use sound the same way you use cuts. It’s there from the beginning as a motivator to what comes next instead of just something to think about later.
Let This Feeling Go is filled with beautifully framed images. Do you have a favourite?
That last shot on Naika, her expression, her eyes, that’s my favourite moment. The whole thing is about building up to that final shot like a crazy out of control train that finally slows to its destination. It’s one of those things where it’s exactly what was felt from the moment you got hit with the conception of the film.
Bit of a broad question but from speaking to you in the past it seems you have a strong connection with the work you make, what have you found yourself connecting to most in Let This Feeling Go?
I think every film I do I am hoping for the same thing, for someone to relate to it, or understand it, or bring some view to it that I hadn’t even seen. I’ve spent a lot of time considering it but for me personally, what I make tends to be what I’m grappling with in life at that moment. It’s very much about unpacking a core feeling. Trying to understand reality and my place in it a bit more. So if someone is able to share that experience with me, I’m into that. Out of everything I’ve done I would say this film is perhaps the most personal as it’s very much my experience of the world.
How’s the future of your filmmaking looking at present?
The future for me is an interesting shift into stories that make the inner geeky kid smile. I have a few projects in early development at the moment that tap into something more conceptual and anime-influenced. With a series of animated shorts I have been slowly developing on the side as a long term dream project, my next film is the most ambitious thing I’ve ever set out to make with a Godzilla-esque level of VFX and conceptual work but that speaks to what sort of stories I want to explore moving forward. Very much moving into more long-form storytelling and what I’ve always wanted to be doing, features.
