Mother/daughter relationships are an important cornerstone of cinematic storytelling. But one type of maternal representation we don’t usually see portrayed on screen is that of the mother whose life is flourishing in the wake of their child leaving the nest. It’s a fascinating notion and one that lies at the centre of Lily Weisberg’s drama Working Summer. The plot of Weisberg’s film centres on Nora who returns home to Upstate New York where he mother has embraced a life centred around basketweaving. To Nora’s surprise, her mother isn’t wallowing in the loss of her departure but instead has found a sense of fulfilment in her low-stakes existence. Working Summer has certainly marked Weisberg as one to watch on DN’s radar and if you’re a fan of Sofia Coppola or Kelly Reichardt, we recommend you check out her work too, starting with this short, which is paired below with a deep dive conversation with Weisberg, who talks unconventional female-driven stories and drawing inspiration from Joanna Hogg’s economical filmmaking approach.
The story of Working Summer is one of a character, or characters, going through an internal journey, where was it born from?
The idea for Working Summer came from a conversation I had with my mom, Deborah, who is a basketweaver in Upstate New York. She was telling me that as she’s gotten older, she’s become more interested in existing alongside nature and less interested in making her mark, socializing, and finding validation through her work, all of which struck her as characteristics of youth.
I was interested in a dichotomy my mom pointed out in this conversation between ‘craft’ and ‘art’. Basketweaving is considered a craft, participation in a long tradition, working with nature and natural materials. Art might be more about a desire to express an idea, find self-actualization, create something new in the world. This difference struck me as very like the difference between being 60 and being 20. The younger person is eager to find something new, understand herself, and have others understand her. The older person is at peace when participating in what has always been there, what has always been true. I became drawn to the idea of a parent who is at peace in nature and a daughter who is restless there. I thought it would be resonant to see these characters sitting beside each other, trying to reconcile their love for one another with their incompatible phases of life.
You collaborated with Writer Michael Bloom on the screenplay, how did you work together to translate these feelings into a narrative for a film?
Michael Bloom, the writer, and I felt that Nora should be somewhat restless, chatty, and have a relationship with technology. She is an aspiring artist, anxious to turn her mother’s space into art or productivity or meaning. There’s certainly a meta thing going on there because this movie was me trying to turn my mom’s world into art or productivity or meaning, while she quietly and lovingly suppressed her desire to return to her basketweaving.
It’s also worth mentioning that my mom plays the fictional version of herself in the movie. For us, these different stages of life pose less of a conflict than they do for Deborah and Nora. We’re much closer than they are, and I think our lifestyles have actually felt increasingly similar in recent years. It was obvious to me that she would be in the movie, not because she wanted to at all, but because it immediately felt like a project for us to do together. The movie felt like a way for us to get to share our spaces with one another. It was very special. I am highly dubious that she would accept another leading role, but I would really like to make something with her again.
It seems like one aspect you responded to is how unconventional your mother, and the character of Deborah, are. Was there an interest on your part to depict a character who we don’t usually see portrayed on screen?
While the distance between Deborah and Nora might seem sad, I think there is also something really exciting there. There’s something radical to me about seeing a woman, especially in her fifties or sixties, who is deeply entrenched in her own life. I love that there is something in her life that she can’t wait to get back to, even late at night.
There’s something radical to me about seeing a woman, especially in her fifties or sixties, who is deeply entrenched in her own life.
In general, I’m interested in depicting the lives of women in somewhat unconventional ways. I wanted Deborah to have a life and an attitude towards parenthood that would be unusual for a female character, that would almost come across as masculine. Like a not-very-emotionally-expressive man living alone in the woods. When Nora shows up, wandering through the house and calling out “mom”, my hope was that we might wonder for a second if Nora is in the wrong place. Michael and I often did a thought experiment where we asked ourselves how the audience would perceive or judge Deborah’s actions if she were a father instead of a mother.
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I feel like the film is populated with those seemingly small moments that are actually much more resonant.
When Michael and I were structuring the film, it was important to us that things actually do change when Nora arrives. For the most part, Deborah sets aside her weaving and her work and spends the day with her daughter. Nora, after graduating college and before starting her first job, is seeking a return to the nest. When she comes home, she finds that home is a changing, impermanent place. All the change that is a great source of joy and purpose for Deborah, feels like destruction to Nora. Nora wants some kind of direct reassurance about her childhood and her future, but Deborah, absorbed in her world and unsentimental as a person, is a little slow to realize it.
What elements of Working Summer would you say came from Michael?
As a writer, Michael is incredible at translating these ideas into structure. We started talking about some of these themes and questions, and then he went off and wrote a script that was so concise, lean, and poignant all at once. I was struck by the scenes he wrote because they contained so much emotional conflict in their structure, not in the dialogue. He was excited by the challenge of using dialogue almost as decoration, to add humor or personality to a moment.
Completely. Did you always have that desire to convey the meat of the story on a visual level?
We tried to lean on the performances, scene structure, and juxtaposition of Deborah and Nora’s worlds to tell the emotional story. Blocking and framing were huge parts of the writing process. We knew what most of the shots would be as soon as we came up with the scenes. We wanted to create static frames that could metamorphize based on actor movement, a wide of three people that becomes a medium shot of one person, for example. Michael and I had both been obsessing over the films of Kelly Reichardt and Joanna Hogg and were trying to learn from their incredible ability to be economical with their shots, dialogue, blocking, cuts, and moving at the same time.
We wanted to create static frames that could metamorphize based on actor movement, a wide of three people that becomes a medium shot of one person, for example.
Michael also advocated for the Jerry character, someone to provide levity, humor, and who fit more naturally into Deborah’s world. He also thought it would be useful to have another young person as a counterpoint to Nora. Someone her age who is much more lost than she is. Michael wrote the role for Tony Macht, who is a brilliant, hilarious actor. I feel so lucky we had him in the movie, he did so much with Jerry in such a small space.
How was it working with Natasha Parntoy on creating Nora, a character so close to yourself?
Natasha is my favorite person to work with. She is not only a great, spontaneous, always-interesting actor, she is also one of the smartest people I know. Michael and I had such a fun time brainstorming with her and using her input to shape Nora.
The look of the film and location are beautiful, where is it and how long were you out there for?
This is the second film Bettina Campomanes and I have made together. This time, we were extremely fortunate to have the support of Panavision, thanks to our Executive Producer, the cinematographer David Franco. Bettina and I wanted this film to feel summery and lush but also like everyone was a little too far away, a little out of reach. In terms of production, Michael and I wanted to keep things as small and intimate as possible. We shot for three days in the Hudson Valley and the crew was eight people. I love shoots where the whole crew lives together and starts to really feel a unit. It was such a great team, everyone was so kind, talented, and lovely.
I wanted this film to feel summery and lush but also like everyone was a little too far away, a little out of reach.
Aside from Reichardt and Hogg, did you have any other visual references or just filmmakers you find inspire your creativity?
Our major references for the look and the feel of the film were Somewhere (Sofia Coppola, 2010), Vive L’Amour (Tsai Ming-Liang, 1994), Aftersun (Charlotte Wells, 2022), and Unrelated (Joanna Hogg, 2007). We shot on an Alexa Mini LF with Panaspeed lenses. We used Glimmerglass and Black Pro-Mist filters to create a hazy, distant feel. I also felt so fortunate to work with the Colorist Jacob McKee at Color Primary who pushed that soft, diffuse, distant look even further in the grade.
What’s on the horizon for you and your filmmaking?
Michael and I are embarking on the second year of a contemporary silent film festival, where we commission and produce modern silent shorts from exciting new directors. The films will premiere at an outdoor festival this summer with live musical accompaniment. It went so well last year and we’re just starting to put together our slate of directors for this year!
