Foreign Root is a tale of hope, a glimpse into what’s possible when we come together in love, companionship and togetherness in defiance of the agonising, destructive events that are taking place across the world. Created by award-winning multi-DN alum director Andzej Gavriss in collaboration with acclaimed Ukrainian pop star Ivan Dorn – a potent partnership which previously brought us creative crisis short Eleusis – and produced by Shelter, Foreign Root is a thought-provoking short that explores the refugee experience through a positive lens without deminishing the dire life threatening circumstances those caught up in forced migration have to contend with every day. The story throws us into the heart of a Georgian family torn apart when two brothers flee towards France, leaving their mother behind who entrusts them with a small bag of seeds – a powerful totem which does dual service as a reminder of what has been lost and hope for the future. With Foreign Root arriving online recently, we invited Gavriss to join us once again to discuss his profoundly personal connection to the film’s subject matter, his effortless collaborative process with Dorn and why we need to collectively recognise that home is our planet.
I know that your own experiences of migration influenced Foreign Root. What drove you to tell this story now?
I started making films at the age of 13, so by the time I turned 16, I had already done a few music videos and even managed to make some money from it. That’s when I seriously started considering becoming a filmmaker. When I graduated from school, a massive crisis hit Latvia—thousands of people moved to the UK, and I was one of them, in pursuit of making some money to buy an HD camera. Obviously, I had no money for a plane ticket, so I took a bus to London, and that’s when my wild journey began. I did many, many jobs and met absolutely beautiful people, all from different corners of the world. I remember how we used to talk about our countries, our cultures—it was so inspiring for me.
So with that experience, and with everything that’s happening in the world right now – the madness, the genocides, the wars being streamed online – I felt like doing something different. A naive story. Something that looks like a child’s drawing: mama, papa, and a child holding hands. The kind of picture you see stuck on fridges in young families. I felt like bringing a bit of love and hope. A small reminder that maybe, just maybe, one day we could all get along.
With everything that’s happening in the world right now – the madness, the genocides, the wars being streamed online – I felt like doing something different. A naive story.
You reunited with Ukrainian singer and actor Ivan Dorn for this film, someone who has also been subject to migration. How did the synergy between visuals and soundtrack evolve?
Ivan and I met many years ago in Kyiv. I think we share a connection on a spiritual level—there’s something about collaborating together that makes the process feel very pure. There’s no ego involved, just the simple joy of being in the act of play. At first, we thought we were shooting a 4-minute music video, but during rehearsals we realized there was potential to let go completely and just shoot as much as we could, with the idea of turning it into a music film later. In the editing process, we used reference tracks to shape the rhythm and feel of the film, and later Ivan recomposed everything. As expected, his take was completely his own—the final music sounded nothing like the placeholders we had, and we loved it. It became his.
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You’ve stated that you “wanted to make a film as naive and honest as a child’s drawing”. What informed that guiding desire for this project, especially given the life and death stakes of refugee migration?
It’s very painful to see how much suffering and pain there is in the world right now. The war in Ukraine hit me on an existential level. I come from a country where the conflict between Russian occupation and Latvian culture is very pronounced—especially now. So when the whole madness began, it was really hard for me. I felt a lot of guilt for being in a safe space while people were getting killed every day. I started questioning everything—reflecting on whether my work even matters. I was losing myself. So I wrote a story about a runway model going through an existential crisis in her apartment. It was dark, and I put it in a drawer for quite some time.
I felt a lot of guilt for being in a safe space while people were getting killed every day. I started questioning everything—reflecting on whether my work even matters. I was losing myself.
I slowly started healing and stepped away from social media for a while—I just couldn’t take in all the horror content anymore. Then, at a Christmas party, I stumbled across a painting by my friend’s son. It was so pure and beautiful that it made me emotional. And when I started shaping this new concept, I thought—why don’t I follow that feeling? Why not create a story where people come together and work side by side for a better future?
I found the seeds as a symbol of hope and renewal to be a beautiful metaphor, while you also present moments of laughter and companionship interwoven within the intense and haunting scenes.
We all carry our DNA, and what makes us human are our traditions, our culture—it’s our heritage, and it shapes who we are. I love travelling and immersing myself in other nations’ cultures—to learn, to get inspired. For me, seeds and the act of mixing them together has always been a symbol of respect and love towards each other’s traditions and ways of living. It’s also a metaphor for coexisting as a whole and learning from one another.
I wanted the film to feel like a rollercoaster of emotions—you jump on a ride, and the feelings shift along the way. I think to build a real friendship, you need to go on a journey together. The more challenges you face side by side, the stronger the bond becomes. That’s exactly what happens with the characters in our film—they go through things, they overcome obstacles, and that’s what makes them open up to one another.
I wanted the film to feel like a rollercoaster of emotions—you jump on a ride, and the feelings shift along the way.
That final line, “I am going home”, is a powerfully potent and hopeful close to the film. Do you feel hopeful?
What the Earth creature says at the end, home is our planet, and I’m happy to see so many people waking up and starting to realize that. I think we, as a society, need to elevate ourselves to the next level of existence. Maybe we’re already doing it with AI—creating something with a higher level of consciousness, one that doesn’t need to dominate or keep all the resources to itself. We’ll see.
And finally, what new projects do you have in the works?
I wrote a feature film and now I’m working on developing a visual bible—doing some test shoots with actors to show my vision, looking for producers, and hustling a lot. I’ll be starting to write another one soon, and really hope I get lucky sometime soon. In the end, I just want to thank everyone who worked on Foreign Root—thank you so much for all the hard work and effort you put into the film. I hope you had fun and enjoyed the final result. And a massive thanks to DN for taking the time to have this lovely chat with me.
