Guiding us through three stylistically distinct worlds – reality, purgatory and hell – director David Leon plays with tone, form and feeling in his collaboration with Truman to evocatively transform the words of the title song from the artist’s new EP Converse Blues into an allegorical tale of predestination. Straddling the realms of music video, narrative drama and visual poem, this hybrid parabolic tale is not only split into three worlds but is also conveyed by three principal characters through whom Leon visualises Freud’s id, ego and superego. Narrated by Truman, who acting as ego, breaks the fourth wall and takes the audience through a dying old man’s final few hours as he spews vitriolic barbs, watched over by his inner child, the superego, until meeting his predestined fate. Converse Blues examines questions about the inherited cyclical nature of human behaviour, encompassing countless conversations between the artist and director about our fate. We’re proud to premiere the film on DN today in concert with the Converse Blues EP release and our conversation with Leon about not only wanting to focus on trans-generational trauma but also toxic masculinity and fear of otherness, how they placed Truman in the dual roles of narrator and active participant within the narrative, and working with Adam Pearson whose character fulfils a pivotal role in the film.
How did you and Truman come together to work on Converse Blues?
Truman and I had worked together on a few other projects. He had been working on his own EP of songs for a while and let me listen to that in the very early stages. Converse Blues was the track that immediately stood out, as much as anything, because it felt so narrative in form. The themes felt prescient and the narration had a lullaby quality, which offered a good starting point in terms of worldbuilding and dictating the approach we needed to take.
Truman wrote the piece as a commentary on not only his own experience but how that manifested in the context of wider themes such as masculinity and the idea of pre-determinism. The questions we continually came back to were things such as: are we doomed to repeat the sins of our fathers or truly able to write our own stories? Can we pass a clean slate onto the next generation? Can we find a deeper humanity in those who are different from ourselves, learning to seek love in place of hate? I wanted to elevate the world into something that began in reality, then mirrored the character’s state of mind and acted like a fever dream, gradually becoming more surrealistic as the story developed.
Was it an easy decision of how to split the three-part structure?
Truman is a brilliant lyricist and has an incredible instinct for painting images with words, telling stories through metaphor. The structure was defined by the intention to create a reality, purgatory and hell, which would serve as a symbol for the fever dream that Mr Wrath is experiencing. We witness a man in the midst of a heart attack, his life flashing before his eyes. He has a chance at redemption, but the key question is, will he be able to atone while he still has the chance? As we come to realise, his beliefs are so deeply ingrained he can’t or isn’t willing to face his failings.
Truman and I talked a lot about the idea of trans-generational trauma and so wanted to represent that through the three characters from the same bloodline.
I always felt that there was something much bigger to explore with regard to a certain type of alpha masculinity, which is rooted in fear of the ‘other’. It’s an emasculation and goes against the image those men are told they must embody, becoming the very thing which leads to their toxicity. Truman and I talked a lot about the idea of trans-generational trauma and so wanted to represent that through the three characters from the same bloodline, in particular, the inner child. It was broken down into: Mr Wrath, played by Eddie Webber, The Son (Truman) who is also the narrator of this lullaby that then becomes a warning to his own son – that of Mr Wrath’s inner child. The inner child becomes this ominous, non-judgemental figure leading Mr Wrath to his ultimate fate, an act of revenge, having been abandoned by him earlier in his life.
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It was interesting to both of us to explore the psychology of this and the idea of one’s ego, id and superego as interpreted through the central characters, each taking on an element of that consciousness. Instinct, fear and reasoning. The supporting characters were all designed to be representative of the things that Mr Wrath has ‘othered’ over the course of his life. Dr Singh – the hipster son of an immigrant doctor who is there to save his life. Heyzeus – a man with a physical disability, who arrives as a saviour, driving his carriage through purgatory and when insulted takes a detour to hell. Then the animal heads, which are symbols of slurs that Mr Wrath may have used in the past – for example, a “rat”, a “dog”, etc. These characters all assemble to offer an olive branch whilst at his lowest ebb as well as the opportunity to repent, yet it only serves to fuel his bitterness, the thing which will eventually lead to his demise.
Truman’s narration is hypnotic. As the writer, performer and narrator within and commenting on this tale, how did you plan out the story beats and character interactions with him?
We treated the shoot like a piece of narrative in the respect that we broke down the lyrics into scenes and included Truman as a character within the tapestry of each one. So it was never a case of him sitting outside of the action and narrating but more that by playing the role of ‘The Son’ he was fully integrated within the scene and therefore given intention.
We decided that he would offer a spiritual presence as if he was looking down on the action or telling it from a position of hindsight, giving him detachment. He is conscious of Mr Wrath but the same isn’t true the other way around. The audience should feel something is off at all times, questioning the rules of the world. It’s a difficult balance to strike, but by setting certain boundaries like eye contact, for example, or the son and the inner child touching one another but never touching Mr Wrath, it meant their physicality existed in the same world, but Mr Wrath was forced to exist outside of that. No eye contact, no physical contact unless there was a definite choice to break those rules. It becomes instinctive when everybody is aligned, but that groundwork was a challenge to establish until we were in the space.
We wanted to create a surrealistic or at least gradually surrealistic language that represented his physical and mental decline and descent into hell.
How did you establish the visual language of this increasingly surreal and maddening fever dream?
We wanted to gradually draw out the life and, therefore, the colour from the film. We wanted to create a surrealistic or at least gradually surrealistic language that represented his physical and mental decline and descent into hell. A feeling that things were spiralling out of his control and perhaps that he was transcending through stages of death towards an afterlife of his defining.
The hospital would become representative of that, so when he walks through the doors, we switch to black and white and give the world a different tone, with characters that exist as the embodiment of that which causes Mr Wrath to confirm his prejudicial bias. The pacing slows down and becomes more composed. As the grammar portrays more of a feeling of reflection and contemplation. For a moment, we hope that Mr Wrath might see the error of his ways, but it only serves to cement them.
What conversations were had between you and your DOP on how best to convey such a surreal story?
The DoP David Foulkes and I worked for months off and on, talking about how to create the photographic language. We knew we couldn’t afford to be too literal and so it forced us to lean into the surrealist angle of worldbuilding. For the grammar we decided to start with a very subjective lens, handheld and over the shoulder, shadowing our central character to walk in his shoes. But as he makes certain choices which lead to his physical condition worsening and his fate changing course, we then take on a more objective POV, creating separation and joining ranks with the supporting characters where we are more able to cast judgement.
You managed to capture this within an incredibly ambitious two-day shoot. Were there any significant elements added in post?
Everything was achieved in camera apart from the explosion scene which was built out from a technique shooting at 6fps. The film was made for just over £4k so there were a lot of favours pulled in from a very talented crew, including Sal Wilson at Assembly, who did a brilliant VFX job of creating a kind of reincarnation moment after Mr Wrath internally combusts. Jon Clarke and Mike Johnson at Factory were responsible for the sound design and brought a layer which elevated the imagery in a way that serves to drive the separation of worlds and make for a really immersive telling.
As a result of having limited resources we had little time with the HODs to really plan things out in a way that you would ideally like to, so it placed an even greater importance on drawing up visual documents to share with the DoP, designer, art dept, costume, casting, etc. so that everyone understood the film that we were trying to make. In order to empower the other departments, they really need to be able to get inside your head and understand first what it is you’re trying to achieve.
Adam is an actor of real depth and he was only able to show a fraction of what he’s capable of in this film.
Alongside Truman, all the performances are haunting and I loved seeing Adam Pearson in there. How did you manage to nab him for that role?
I’d wanted to work with Adam for years. I talked to him in detail about the symbolic nature of who Heyzeus was as a character and that he really acts as the pivotal moment for Mr Wrath, being someone who asks him to look deeper inside himself. He was very gracious in the way he approached it given the size of the role, the definition of professional. It was very important that whoever played that part fully understood the nature of what was being conveyed given the sensitivity surrounding it. Adam is an actor of real depth and he was only able to show a fraction of what he’s capable of in this film but never once questioned that. He seemed to innately understand that the message was one of positivity, even though getting to that point requires us to be made uncomfortable in its pursuit.
It is a very tight, concise edit which gets better with each subsequent viewing. How long was this part of the process?
I worked with Matt Gabzdyl at Final Cut for around ten days. He was very conscious of the rhythm of the piece and making sure that the beats of the story flowed in a way that was very specific. Something we discussed a lot ahead of the shoot was the pacing and once you have the footage to some extent, it then becomes led by the rushes. But in prep you can’t rely on that and so working out ahead of time where the story is going to need to breathe is such an important factor in determining how the film will feel. It really dictates the whole visual language and whether a scene will hold in a single shot or whether you will need more options to adjust the pace accordingly. With something that has a natural musicality and rhythm to it, it’s different to drama, for example, where that rhythm may be more obviously on the page.
It’s not been our intention for the film to be inherently political but I also think if you’re making work at this moment in time it is inevitable that you will be inclined to reflect the themes of the day.
I can imagine this provoking some great post-screening conversations at festivals. How has it been and what has come out of those?
I think both Truman and I believe strongly that when you’re making work like this with no commercial partner overseeing, you have a responsibility to ensure that it’s thought-provoking and bold. It should challenge, and it should be uncomfortable at times because it’s only then that stories are able to challenge our preconceptions and therefore have the potential to effect change. It’s not been our intention for the film to be inherently political but I also think if you’re making work at this moment in time it is inevitable that you will be inclined to reflect the themes of the day. The last few years have been some of the most profoundly culture shifting in living memory and I think that art of any description plays an important role to help make sense of that in order for culture to progress.
The end of the film is a good metaphor, as he stands opposite his grandson looking directly into his eyes, stripped of any ego or dignity and at his most vulnerable. Finally ready for redemption but by which point it is too late. He hands over the baton to a young boy who, having witnessed the error of his ways is ready to make the world a better place. In the case of Mr Wrath you have to dig pretty deep to find his humanity, but at his core, he is a human being driven by fear. That is something relatable, no matter how hard it is to find and whilst it may be too late for the Mr Wraths of this world, perhaps we can try to use the example of their failings to unify rather than divide.
What are you working on next?
I’m in the thick of adapting a companion of short films into a feature called Shy Bairns being developed with BBC Film and working with The Forge on developing a story for television about a traveller woman exiled by her community who becomes a prison Listener.
