When a filmmaker reveals that not only was their film deleted by YouTube but that their whole channel was pulled down as a result, you can’t help but be intrigued! So what is it about Priscilla Galvez’s directorial debut A Fermenting Woman which seems to be causing such a stir that it needed to be scrubbed from YouTube’s servers? Not set within boundaries of what’s customarily considered horror, there’s no terrifying killer stalking our heroine, but instead, capitalist suits garishly flaunting their power as they look to excise her from her beloved restaurant. There is no gratuitously gross CGI-generated gore but rather artistically captured bubbling, frothing, and naturally fermenting food inspired by the Danish chefs at Noma. So surely it can’t be the film’s menstruation plotline that caused the platform which happily profited from a suicide forest corpse and alt-right radicalisation rabbit holes to balk? A Fermenting Woman was driven by Galvez’s powerful need to put all of her strangled feelings of a woman of a certain age, working within an industry in which support is absent and trying to balance her need to create art but also the potential to grow life. The film fearlessly examines the parallels between artistic creation and biological fertility and challenges audiences to confront their discomfort around menstruation, female autonomy, and societal expectations while also playing with bold visual language through calculated camera movements and a vibrant contrasting colour palette. As Galvez continues to question why her film simultaneously seems to be repulsing and fascinating audiences, we spoke to her about moving away from traditional hysterical women tropes, mirroring her protagonist’s psychological and physical transformation and finally what she thinks may have led YouTube to ban her but why that isn’t what matters.
Women and their ability to create are at the heart of A Fermenting Woman. Why was this a story you wanted to tell? What experiences have you had which fed into it?
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about motherhood. It’s hard not to, especially after hitting my 30s, when the ticking biological clock starts to feel real, and that brings a lot of anxiety. The pressure is even stronger as a freelancer in the film industry because there’s no clear path for balancing work and family. No maternity leave, no childcare support like other professions might offer. A lot of women I know in the arts end up having to step away from their careers entirely to have kids. I found myself feeling torn between my career and starting a family, which got me wondering: is there a connection between the drive to create as artists and the urge to become a mother? Can our passion for making art fill the same kind of void as bringing new life into the world? I also became fascinated by the biological capacity women have to create life, and I wanted to explore that idea through Marielle. She’s not just a chef; she’s an artist at the core. The way the woman’s body can create life is truly wild, and I wanted that sense of wonder to be at the heart of her story.
I knew she was the right person for the project when, after I pitched the story, she wasn’t completely repulsed by the idea.
I love cooking and I love talking about periods (we need to do more of both). How did you get together with writer Maisie Jacobson and bring this story to life?
Periods and cooking – it’s a funny and unexpected combination! I absolutely love it. I’ve known Maisie Jacobson both professionally and personally for a few years through mutual friends in the industry. When I decided to produce A Fermenting Woman, I had a story but struggled to shape it into a screenplay. I reached out to Maisie because I admired her writing and felt our tastes would align. I knew she was the right person for the project when, after I pitched the story, she wasn’t completely repulsed by the idea (which I thought was a great first step). Instead, she immediately connected with the premise and themes and even shared a personal story about someone using period blood as plant fertilizer, which totally hooked me and became a key element in the film. Maisie took my initial ideas and transformed them through the screenplay, adding her own twist, like dark humor, which was unexpected for me and shifted the tone of the film in a way I ended up loving.
You do a really great job of visually representing the joy she finds in her fermentation, cooking and revelatory methods. Tell me about creating those montages and bringing all of the food to life.
It was really important for me to show Marielle’s actions as part of the creative process, not out of revenge or desperation. When we commit to an idea and truly believe in it, we want to see it through, even if that leads to obsession or self-sacrifice. I wanted each moment to feel intentional because I didn’t want her actions to come off as hysterical or manic like many women in horror films are portrayed. Marielle is in control every step of the way, which I think actually makes her character even more unsettling. I also wanted to highlight that she finds joy and pleasure in the (sometimes painful) process of creation because her deepest desire is to produce something of her own. When she has full creative freedom, that’s when she’s truly happiest and most fulfilled.
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As for the visuals, our shooting schedule was so packed that we didn’t have time to capture the close-ups of the fermenting jars during principal photography. When my editor, Shayne Hontiveros, and I started editing, we realized that we couldn’t make the film without those shots. So we organized a pickup shoot to get the macro shots of Marielle’s fermentation world with help from our amazing food stylist, Matthew Chin. It was such a fun shoot. Food looks so gross up close but also strangely beautiful. All the effects in the film were practical, no VFX was used with the exception of two stock footage shots. The bubbling and blood bursting were all created by our food stylist and the talented SFX team, BlackspotFX. I really wanted to use practical effects as a nod to the campy, artistic creature horror from the 90s, which has always inspired me.
I didn’t want her actions to come off as hysterical or manic like many women in horror films are portrayed.
I want to know all about your colours and the focus on these; the red is obviously so lush and vibrant as is her cooking, but the restaurant and the other scenes are toned down and almost flat.
I was deeply inspired by the fermentation process, particularly how it was being embraced in fine dining, which was gaining momentum as I was developing the film. I became captivated by the images coming from the kitchens of these restaurants, especially Noma in Copenhagen, which I became obsessed with. These images often featured rich, earthy tones of fermented ingredients in glass jars set against the cold, sterile backdrop of industrial kitchens. The contrast was unsettling, evoking a contemporary gothic vibe, like a mad scientist in her lab conducting unusual but ingenious experiments. I also loved how this color palette presented fine dining in a way I don’t often see in films, and it perfectly contrasted with the vibrant red of the blood, symbolizing Marielle’s creativity, which truly stands out in the film. The end result is a wonderful collaboration between our production designer Olivia D’Oliveira, the lighting design of our cinematographer Nikolay Michaylov and our colourist Jason Zukowski!
How did you amplify the horror vibes and make sure that the audience would be squeamish but not push too far?
It was definitely a challenge because the film is a bit of a slower burn, and the horror elements don’t really come into play until later in the story. I’ve always loved how title sequences can set the tone for a film, so I decided to use this as a way to create a sense of foreboding and mystery right from the start. With the film’s unique premise, I wanted to draw the audience into a world where they could suspend their disbelief and really connect with Marielle’s point of view as the story unfolded.
This sequence is probably my favorite in the whole film – it feels like the start of a fable. Marie-Hélène Delorme’s eerie, almost otherworldly score does such a great job of setting the mood, and I especially love how we’re first introduced to Marielle, her face hidden under a straw hat. That was a nod to Van Gogh, and it’s such a beautiful detail, thanks to the amazing costume design by Mara Zigler. One of my goals with the film was really to push the concept and see how far we could take it, just to see how the audience would respond. I love challenging people’s perceptions of what’s considered right, wrong, or socially acceptable. Marielle’s complete commitment to her belief that her menstruation could actually taste good almost makes you start to wonder if it could be true. And I think the horror comes from that. The way it challenges our expectations, creating discomfort and that squeamish feeling that I hope the audience experiences as they watch.
I hadn’t come across Sook-Yin Lee before but she is brilliant as Marielle – misunderstood, fearful but bold. What was her initial reaction to the role and how did you craft her delightfully quirky performance?
I have always been a huge fan of Sook-Yin Lee. When I was younger, I remember watching her as a VJ on Much Music (Canada’s version of MTV), and I just thought she was so cool and punk. Then I saw her lead role in John Cameron Mitchell’s Shortbus, and I was completely blown away by her performance. Since then, I’ve always wanted to work with her. When it came time to cast Marielle, it was a bit intimidating because I knew I needed an actor who could be open and vulnerable, someone who could fully embody a character like Marielle. I wanted to make sure the actor understood her backstory and could portray her without judgment. I immediately thought of Sook-Yin because she’s not just an actress — she’s also a musician and a director. She’s an artist in every sense, and I knew she’d be perfect for the role.
We had long conversations about Marielle’s physicality and how crucial it was to express her interior world through her facial expressions and body movements.
Fortunately, when I sent the script to Sook-Yin, she immediately said yes. I think the character really intrigued her. One thing that stood out to her about Marielle was how little dialogue there is and how isolated the character is for most of the film. We had long conversations about Marielle’s physicality and how crucial it was to express her interior world through her facial expressions and body movements. One of my favorite moments early in the film is when Marielle is in her garden, almost feral in her movements. Sook-Yin did an incredible job of portraying Marielle’s somewhat monstrous identity, primarily through her body, and I think it added so much depth to the character.
The camerawork is all-important in the film. I feel at times like I’m in her head but also so absorbed in her story.
I was really excited to work with cinematographer Nikolay Michaylov on this project. We’d collaborated on several films before, but I was always in a producer role, so this was a great opportunity to work with him in a completely different way. Having that established relationship made communication easier, but it was also exciting to bring that dynamic into a fresh context. When we were developing the visual style, Nikolay and I drew inspiration from some of our favourite horror films, like Rosemary’s Baby, Claire Denis’ Trouble Every Day, and Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria. We wanted to create a visual language that built tension in a subtle, unsettling way, not relying on shock or overt horror. We used dolly movements, zooms and dynamic angles throughout the film to enhance that tension.
These shots give the audience a privileged perspective, challenging them to figure out whose point of view they’re experiencing.
We also focused on tracking Marielle’s psychological transformation and how it mirrored the physical transformation of her menstrual blood and creation. It was tricky to show that connection without making it too obvious. To do this, we used POV shots from both Marielle and the creature, along with extreme macro shots of the fermented ingredients and the food. These shots give the audience a privileged perspective, challenging them to figure out whose point of view they’re experiencing. We also used diopters — not just for the macro shots but in the final sequence with the diners. Shooting the garden macros at the beginning of the film and then the diners at the end brings the story full circle, reflecting the chaos of creation that lies at the heart of the film.
I know you’ve had a battle with YouTube. I want to know everything and what you tried doing to break down their restrictive rules of what is and isn’t acceptable.
A few months ago, A Fermenting Woman started getting some attention after a short film platform posted our trailer on Instagram. There were thousands of comments asking where they could watch it. So, I decided to put it up on YouTube for free. It began gaining traction right away and was getting around 1k views a day and people were engaging with it. There were a lot of insightful and positive comments, but also racist, misogynist and just simply people who were grossed out or had negative comments. Pretty normal for YouTube but it did feel like the film was touching a nerve with people, either for good or bad. But then, after about two weeks, out of nowhere, I got a notification saying not only was the film removed, but my entire production company’s channel was taken down for violating YouTube’s “spam, deceptive practices, and scams” policy, which didn’t make any sense at all! I sent multiple appeals to YouTube, but every request to reinstate my channel was denied.
It seems likely that either some entity did something to the video or made effective complaints against the video or YouTube felt like the film violated some policy or something. I don’t really know beyond that. I’ve been trying to get it back up ever since, but the YouTube bots refuse to explain why the video was removed. I can’t help but suspect that the film got banned because it reached an audience that couldn’t handle the subject matter. At the very least, it was obviously controversial so all of that makes it seem fishy. It’s kind of shocking that something as normal as menstrual blood is still so taboo and too much for a large portion of the public to grapple with but in a way, that’s part of why I think the film has stuck with people.
Horror, in particular, is one of the few genres where the unacceptable is actually embraced. So, if A Fermenting Woman got banned for pushing those boundaries, I honestly see that as a badge of honor.
At first, I was really angry and disappointed, but now I’m looking at the whole situation in a more positive light. I’ve always admired artists who push boundaries and challenge the norm, especially in a culture obsessed with fitting in, where being accepted seems like the ultimate goal. But horror, in particular, is one of the few genres where the unacceptable is actually embraced. So, if A Fermenting Woman got banned for pushing those boundaries, I honestly see that as a badge of honor. I made this film to make people feel something, to make them sit with their discomfort, shame and disgust, and if I’ve managed to do that, I honestly consider it a privilege.
I’m truly impressed with your directorial debut. Are you staying in that chair now?
Thank you! That really means a lot to me. I’ve dreamed of directing since I was young, but I never thought it would be possible. When I first started my career in the industry, directing felt like too big of a leap, so I focused on producing instead. I truly love producing – it’s creatively stimulating and fulfilling, especially when I get to work with amazing people. But after directing A Fermenting Woman, it’s definitely fuelled a desire in me to do more of it, and I’d love to keep exploring that. Right now, I’m writing my first feature, Aileen, with my husband Jeff Pavlopoulos, and I’ve got several other projects in development. That said, I don’t think I’ll ever stop being a producer, whether it’s for my own projects or other directors’. I’m just too much of a control freak!
