A Mother Finds Refuge In Her Own World With Her Blow-up Doll in Chanelle Eidenbenz’s ‘Elephant in the Room’

How do you make a film about the relationship between a woman and her life-sized blow-up doll into a sensual and poignant exploration of addiction? In Elephant in the Room, Chanelle Eidenbenz does it by grounding her concept firmly in reality, finding her perfect lead in Doris Schefer, and allowing her instinctive and mesmerising performance to say things that cannot be said. The 20-minute drama, that tells the story of Irna, who seeks refuge in her rubber doll Elias as her relationship with her son deteriorates, is many things – heartbreaking, shocking, at times even close to absurd – but one thing it isn’t, is contrived. Alongside her thought provoking film’s premiere here on DN today, Eidenbenz joins us to chat about everything from the importance of finding nuance in her storytelling to the challenges of travelling on public transport with a blow-up doll with an erect penis, and everything in-between.

Where did the inspiration to write Elephant in the Room come from?

It initially began as an exploration of alcohol addiction. I wanted to tell a story about a mother and her son and the alcoholism that stands between them. I knew I wanted to tell the story from the perspective of the person struggling with addiction. When I started getting into it more, I realised that the issue that actually interested me most wasn’t the drinking itself but the powerful denial of it. That shift in focus led me to search for a way to represent this denial visually. I wanted it to be something that I could put physically between them. Something that would be in the room with them, obvious and jarring to everyone except for Irna herself.

The film dances beautifully between dramatic, sensual and melancholic, without ever deteriorating into silly. How important and difficult was it to capture this nuanced tone of the film?

It was the most important task. From the moment I had this idea with the blow-up doll it was this challenge that excited me the most! If we managed to stay with Irna’s perspective and not have the audience laugh at her, this would give the film a most distinctive quality. I think because the story was born from this completely separate idea, the film was grounded enough in reality already. So all our focus went into achieving vulnerability and a proximity of the viewer. It was very important to me and the DP to never have any imagery that would put Irna on display. We quickly realised that wides were tricky. It was a constant dance navigating that fine line between the awkwardness that I wanted and loved, and the whole thing becoming involuntarily ridiculous.

I also had two outstanding collaborators that were very attuned to this task: Our cinematographer Pascal Reinmann and, of course, our actor Doris Schefer who was absolutely indispensable. Pascal has an incredible intuition when it comes to creating intimacy, especially with his handheld camerawork. His ability to be in the moment with the characters is so unique.

If we managed to stay with Irna’s perspective and not have the audience laugh at her, this would give the film a most distinctive quality.

Tell me about the casting process. What were you looking for in your lead and how did Doris Schefer fit into these expectations?

Interestingly I originally wrote the script for someone else. I had a much more extrovert character in mind at the beginning. Looking back, it is very weird knowing how confused I was right after the auditions. I only auditioned three actors, one of them being the one that I had modelled our main character after. She was very loud and full of energy. Doris, of course, was the opposite. She brought a whole other layer to the character. I instantly fell in love with her but I remember it was hard to say goodbye to that old vision.

Doris was the most critical of the script at that stage, which was why I knew she was the right person. I knew she would challenge me to get it right. But it also meant I had some convincing to do to get her to join us, understandably! I also like to work with metaphors (clearly!) and so does she. A lot of our language involved using metaphors to describe what we were going for. For example, I remember we used this image of thick layers of chewing gum to discuss where the character was in her denial for each particular scene.

Did your personal experiences with love and relationships influence the film in any way?

Weirdly it is a very autobiographical film. All the mother/son relationship scenes have an emotional core that come from moments in my own life.

How did you treat Elias during the filming? How did people react to him?

We definitely had a couple of funny moments and situations happen with him on set and during prep. I remember blowing him up at home and dressing him and then needing to bring him to rehearsals. It takes a lot of time getting the air in and out so I just decided to take him on public transport with me. And obviously the purpose of the doll is sex, so he has a huge penis. I think in the film we only show it once and very briefly. So on the tram I was trying to not show that part too much to the public and hiding it against my body. But then that was suddenly weird as well because then it felt like he was ‘penetrating’ me – overall just a pretty ridiculous situation.

The funny part, as well, was people’s reactions. I realised that people thought it was a joke. They don’t take it seriously but kind of played along. They were asking whether he had a ticket, for instance. And that got me thinking, how would Irna react to that? She would think they were being serious. So that experience helped inform some of the moments that Elias comes in contact with the outside world. Like in the dance class or when Jago’s friends discover him in the car. But the weirdest part probably was that over time we didn’t find it weird any more. Especially Doris and I, we got to a point where Elias really became a character. I remember situations where crew members would take the doll, put it somewhere on the floor and were like, ‘Uh,… okay should we just… should we just put him on the Sofa instead?’. We were really able to dive into it and had a lot of fun.

Were there any surprises or unforeseen challenges on set or in post?

A day before shooting our final scene in the car wash we found out that there was an open air music festival happening right in front of our location. Like, two yards next to us behind a little wall was the DJ. I think we were able to reschedule some of the scenes but not the final one. And so we ended up shooting our most dramatic scene with loud electro music playing the entire time, knowing we would have to ADR the entire thing. Luckily, the music had something melancholic to it as well. Once we knew there was nothing we could do and that at least it wouldn’t affect the visuals, we just focused and went on with it. But that was definitely a challenging and absurd situation. That and Elias getting punctured towards the end of the scene and losing air…

The weirdest part probably was that over time we didn’t find it weird any more. Especially Doris and I, we got to a point where Elias really became a character.

There are just a few scenes that are scored in the film but they are so well done. How did you arrive at this eerie, offbeat music track?

I never had such an easy time working with a composer before or since. We roughly discussed moments where I envisioned music and lightly talked about the world of the instruments. I’d sent Tarek Schmidt a rough cut, he sent back some sketches and we started playing around with them in the edit. And then Tarek would see what we were going for and make it better. We also had an amazing sound designer, Lotta Mäki, who had created elements that bordered on score. It was a beautiful moment when we had our first joint meeting after both of them had already sent some things over – they were so inspired by each other’s work.

There was one moment that I remember we couldn’t believe. After having shown Tarek the footage of the dance scene he went away and wrote something just off of his memory, without a cut to work with. By the time he came back to us with a sketch we had cut the dance scene. We added the sketch and it fit to a tee without Tarek ever even having seen the cut. He had captured the emotional core of the scene so well that it just worked seamlessly. It was beautiful.

What do you hope the audience will take away from Elephant in the Room?

With Elephant in the Room, it was always about that final moment of the film – the two characters feeling the inevitability of their situation. The end is wide open because there is no solution in sight. If anything, everything that has happened to them is likely to start all over again the next day with the difference that they have reached this point. The final moment in Elephant in the Room is the first time, where the characters get a glimpse of the other’s perspective. They see what the other is asking from them and they know they cannot give it. Irna acknowledges that Jago is hurting because of Elias. But the magnitude of that task, of having to face reality is something she cannot fathom. Jago on the other hand for the first time has to reckon with the idea that his mother might break if she attempts what he is asking of her. To me, the resolution is in this subtle shift – in them reaching a moment of being in their situation together. Often, we are scared of acknowledging our problems because we fear we don’t have the strength to solve them. We forget that what we need, more than anything, is being understood. Acknowledging the elephant in the room is more important than fixing it.

What it was also about for me was the notion of shame: How social stigmas and taboos contribute to the conditions worsening. I don’t know if I meant for the audience to take away any of that from it though. Maybe that is more what I ended up taking away from it. For the audience I know it was all about that feeling of frustration: The powerlessness of loving someone so deeply but not knowing how to overcome what stands between you.

Often, we are scared of acknowledging our problems because we fear we don’t have the strength to solve them. We forget that what we need, more than anything, is being understood.

What are you working on next?

I am working on further developing several feature film scripts. One is set in a dysfunctional family setting about a mum and her two daughters during the onset of psychosis. I am switching perspectives three times to look at how every family member experiences entirely different stories within the same broad brushstrokes of their familiar situation. I recently boiled down to this which I’m only now realising is basically part two of Elephant in the Room: The question of how we can encounter our family members without compromising our truth about our own experience and also exploring how to sit with pain rather than running away from it. It’s in many ways very different from Elephant in the Room but, thematically, I guess I haven’t strayed too far!

The other thing I’m currently most excited about is a genre film: It’s a film noir about a woman obsessing over the selling of her breast milk after having lost her newborn. I am having a lot of fun subverting the genre, putting film noir in a domestic space with screaming babies and formula and exploring truly feminist femme fatales.