Satya Gautam and Gili Twena’s The Butterfly is not simply a stunningly choreographed dance film, vividly evoking the chaos of panic attacks, but acts as a visceral cocoon for its vibrant message: fear and panic are an integral part of being human. Filmmaker Gautam came together with co-director and choreographer Twena in this enthralling collaboration where they dive into those all too recognisable physical manifestations of anxiety and panic which they delicately unpicked and translated into movement. Through an ensemble of dancers hypnotically convulsing together echoing the breathlessness and panic which can overwhelm the body in fear and distress, Gautam and Twena remind us that these moments of disconnect, though isolating, are universal experiences that can foster connection. As The Butterfly lands on the pages of DN we caught up with Gautam to discuss balancing intricately rehearsed choreography with spontaneity in production, how they worked to externalise the intimate feelings the film focuses on and how the film’s cathartic tone took flight in post-production.
The Butterfly is such an impressive piece of work, how did you and Gili Twena come together in collaboration on the piece?
The collaboration with Gili Twena was grounded in mutual trust and shared artistic vision. During pre-production, we explored how movement could convey fear and vulnerability in a way words couldn’t. Gili brought her expertise in dance to translate emotions into physical expressions, while I worked on capturing those movements cinematically. On set, we maintained this synergy, balancing choreography with spontaneous moments of creative inspiration. It felt like a dialogue between two forms of art: dance and cinema, each enhancing the other.
By highlighting the isolation of the dancers in group settings, we illustrated the paradox of internal struggle within external chaos.
How did you approach externalising the fear, anxiety and panic attacks which the film focuses on?
Building on personal experiences and observations, we focused on capturing the visceral, physical manifestations of fear. We used tight, repetitive choreography to mimic the overwhelming cycle of anxiety, incorporating sensations like trembling or breathlessness. These movements were accentuated by dynamic camera work and intimate framing. By highlighting the isolation of the dancers in group settings, we illustrated the paradox of internal struggle within external chaos. The result was an evocative blend of visuals and movement that felt raw and deeply personal.
The film begins with a beautiful poem. Could you tell us a bit more about it?
The poem is inspired by a well-known Hebrew children’s song called Come to Me, Sweet Butterfly. The song is an invitation from a child asking a butterfly to come and rest on their hand. While it’s playful and simple on the surface, I’ve come to see a deeper meaning in it – a delicate balance between the carefree world of a child and the fragile, magical nature of the butterfly. It reflects an internal conflict: the butterfly represents the tension between wanting to find comfort and stillness, telling yourself not to be afraid and the innate desire for freedom and flight. This duality resonates strongly with the themes of the film.
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I loved the disparity and clashes between your chosen locations.
Our locations were carefully chosen to complement the emotional tone of the film. The closed studio with a single light source symbolized confinement and introspection, while expansive beaches and abandoned buildings offered a sense of duality, freedom juxtaposed with vulnerability. Shooting on the beach with twenty one dancers was a logistical challenge, especially with minimal crew and no budget. Still, the raw beauty of these locations elevated the film’s visual storytelling, making the effort worthwhile.
What were you looking to convey in your camerawork?
We kept our lighting simple and creative. In the studio, we used just one LED light to create dramatic contrasts and highlight emotions. For outdoor scenes, we took advantage of natural light during sunset and sunrise, which gave the film a warm, dreamy quality. The camera moved with the dancers to capture their energy and emotions, while the natural changes in light added depth and beauty to the visuals.
As people who know anxiety as such a heavy, overwhelming feeling, we suddenly saw so much beauty and vitality in the movements and emotions on screen.
Despite its subject matter, The Butterfly has an uplifting, life-affirming message. Was this originally intended or something that developed throughout pre-production?
The uplifting and life-affirming message actually came to us during post-production. Initially, the film was meant to be a physical and dance interpretation of the experience of anxiety but as we watched the footage for the first time, we were struck by something unexpected. As people who know anxiety as such a heavy, overwhelming feeling, we suddenly saw so much beauty and vitality in the movements and emotions on screen. I clearly remember us watching, looking at each other, and feeling deeply inspired. It was in that moment that we wrote, for the first time, the message we now carry with us, a message of resilience, beauty, and the strength found in vulnerability.
Do you have any new projects in the pipeline that you can tell us about?
My next project focuses on documenting the journeys of Indian contemporary dancers who challenge cultural and societal norms through their art. This is a deeply personal project, as it highlights stories of resilience, creativity, and defiance. I’m currently seeking funding to bring this vision to life and to support these incredible artists in sharing their stories with the world.
