LARGO is told entirely through the eyes of a child. What challenges and opportunities did that unique perspective present in terms of storytelling and filmmaking?
We’re both big fans of films that tell stories from a child’s perspective. It’s a way of looking at the world that everyone can relate to and empathise with, especially when the subject matter is such that it might be hard to connect with directly if you don’t have the lived experience. It also gave us the opportunity to look at mundane, everyday things with wonder and excitement, making things like rusty old boats, salty fishing nets, and broken fences feel magical. We’ve taken a lot of inspiration from films like E.T., Kes, Bicycle Thieves, Cinema Paradiso, even Studio Ghibli films. The only challenge was finding a young actor who could carry the weight of the story on his shoulders, but we got very lucky and found Zack Elsokari.
How did you approach balancing the emotional weight of Musa’s journey with the imaginative, hopeful lens of a child?
Musa’s belief that his parents will join him is unwavering. And even though deep down he might have doubts or even know the truth, he deals with it like a world-weary old man. Our approach was to let this bleakness play out and slowly wear it down to show him discovering his childlike innocence again as he prepares to take a journey into the unknown.
What inspired the idea of a boy building a boat to return home? Was this rooted in a specific story or something more symbolic?
Throughout the refugee crisis, the media narrative has basically just been fear-mongering or dehumanising headlines and numbing statistics. We’ve both been very disheartened watching the effect that narrative had on communities, especially the places we grew up in the UK and Italy, places we had always thought of as welcoming and principled, where people became hostile or simply disinterested in refugees who are just looking for safety. We’d often hear people who grew up with say stuff like “it’s not our problem, they chose to get in small boats and come here” or “we have to look after our own first”.
So we started thinking about a story that would reawaken people’s empathy and remind them of the humanity behind the headlines and statistics. Eventually we settled on a structure for the story that forces the characters, and the audience, to feel responsible for what happens to Musa. That’s why it’s about a child leaving in a small boat instead of arriving in one, and that boat is built and scavenged from bits he gets from the characters he meets in the UK.
You’ve been working together since middle school — how has your creative dynamic evolved, and how did it shape LARGO?
We first met doing a school play together, The Wind In The Willows, Max played Badger and I [Salv] played Weasel, we were sworn enemies in the play and backstage, and we’ve basically stayed enemies ever since. Then Max went off to study screenwriting and I [Salv] went off to study acting, and eventually we decided to try pooling our resources and try directing our own stuff. Largo was actually the very first project we planned on making together – a lot of things happened in between then and now – but we got there in the end.
We’re only half-joking about being sworn enemies. We argue a lot, nitpicking every idea and detail, on whatever we’re writing, directing, or editing. But we do all that behind closed doors, so hopefully to the cast and crew it seems like we’re best friends and effortlessly in sync. A few of the crew on Largo tested this out, asking us the same question when we’re apart, to see if we gave the same answer, and apparently we did. Zack says we share a brain and apart we only have half each.
We have pretty much the same taste in films, music, food, etc. so the arguments are never that vicious, usually quite enjoyable.
What was the process like co-directing a film with such heavy themes? How did you divide creative responsibilities?
We were surrounded by a fantastic cast and crew, all there with the intention of telling this story sensitively and empathetically. Once you know everyone is on the same page, you can work freely and safely. We didn’t have a lot of time on location, we only shot for four days, so it was essential to have everything prepped before the shoot – not just the practical stuff, but the big creative decisions too – so pre-production was months of conversations with each other, the producers, the HODs, cast and crew, all about how to tell this story and approach the subject matter. Then on set we could all focus on the small details and happy accidents. When it comes to dividing responsibilities, we sometimes tell people that I [Salv] focus on the cast and Max focuses on the crew, but honestly we both fluctuate between the two.
It might be more accurate to say I [Max] am the brains and Salv is the [heart].
Zack Elsokari delivers a powerful performance as Musa. How did you find him, and what was the casting process like for a role so central and emotionally complex?
We got very lucky with Zack. He’s a very creative and emotionally intelligent child. He was so unbelievably professional and a complete natural on set. He had some really challenging and insightful questions for us about the character’s backstory and the subject matter. And he’ll try to convince you that did all of his own stunts too!Our casting director, Nicholas Hockaday, helped us do a UK-wide search for an actor to play Musa, and we met so many brilliant kids. We always wanted Musa to feel like he was forced to grow old before his time. Ultimately, Zack showed a level of maturity that really captured that. And it definitely helped that he was capable of doing some of his own stunts.
We should also thank Houda, Zack’s mum in real life, who’s also a brilliant actress and has a small role in the film. She gave us some great parenting/directing advice on how to keep him in the right headspace for each scene.
Also big thanks to Ammar, another actor with a small but critical role in the film, who coached Zack to do his lines in Arabic with an authentic Syrian accent.
With actors like Tamsin Greig and Kevin McNally involved, how did you balance performances from seasoned actors with a child lead?
We still can’t believe how lucky we were to work with such brilliant actors. The reality is that it was effortless, when you work with actors of that level it’s just a matter of discussing the nuances of the story. And I think they were all blown away by Zack being so ready for whatever they threw at him, he’s a great improviser and stays in the moment, so all we had to do was nudge them in a few slightly different directions to options to edit with.
The cinematography, score, and editing feel integral to Musa’s emotional world. How did you work with Rick Joaquim and the rest of your team to create that immersive visual and sonic experience?
This kind of links to the bickering we talked about earlier. Because we argued about these aspects for so long, we had such a clear idea of what we wanted to achieve, we never really thought about how we would communicate that to others. We came up with “Ken Loach meets Spielberg” and that seemed to always capture everyone’s imagination. I don’t think we can imagine doing another project without Rick [Joaquim] as DOP. From day one we were just geeking out about the same references and debating how to approach ideas for the shoot. There was a lot of problem solving involved, but we mostly focused on putting together a visual language that resonated with the three of us. One of the key “rules” we set ourselves was the camera is always at Musa’s eye-level, to keep the audience in his perspective on the world.
Our composer, Stuart Hancock, has a knack of composing scores with a magical feel, which we really love. We were all keen to incorporate some Syrian folk music elements, to evoke that feeling of homesickness for Musa and ground that “magical” feeling as a distant memory or hope for the character. Musa’s Theme, played on the oud by the amazing Rihab Azar, still brings a tear to our eyes whenever we hear it.
The last piece of the puzzle was the production design. We needed a boat that was safe enough for us to film with a young child in the sea, but also felt dangerous and like it was really created by a child. Joana Dias absolutely nailed it. She ended up making 3 boats at various stages of disrepair and functionality. She also perfectly captured what we weredreaming of when we said we wanted mundane, everyday things like boats, the house, and a broken fence to feel strange and bewildering to Musa.
Can you talk about any specific visual metaphors or moments that were particularly meaningful to you during production?
So many. We could ramble on about this all day. But just to pick one for now, let’s say the “frames within frames” and visual clutter. We really wanted Musa to feel overwhelmed, almost caged, by the world he found himself in in the UK, then to contrast that with moments that feel wide, sparse, epic, and freeing. Hopefully you can feel this in the cinematography, production design, the music, and the editing.
You’ve said LARGO aims to “inspire empathy and accountability. “What kind of conversations do you hope audiences — especially younger viewers — will take away from the film?
This is maybe a slightly blunt way to put it, but most short films are only watched on Vimeo and at film festivals, and the audiences for these typically have similar political leanings as we do. We didn’t want to just be preaching to the choir. Hopefully, this kind of audience will be challenged by the story, and question their own apathy or inaction.
On the other hand, we grew up in an area of the UK that primarily has the opposite political leanings, somewhere a lot like the town depicted in the film, and we wanted the story that would reach this audience too – and show some empathy for their fears and anxieties, even if we think these are misguided.
We want people to see that we all have more in common with each other than that which seems to divide us – whether those divides be cultural, visual, linguistic, geographical, or political.
Tell us about your outreach initiative bringing LARGO into classrooms. Why was that an important part of this project?
Kids are naturally more empathetic and open to different points of view, which makes stories and films a great entry point into difficult conversations with them. But that also means they’re hyper aware of the world around them, of politics, and of what’s being said in the media, so they’re also vulnerable to parroting what they hear adults say or misunderstanding a complex issue. You can try to sugarcoat things for kids, or bury your own head in the sand and hope they do the same, but it won’t work. That’s why we wanted to take the film into schools and start those difficult conversations head on.
With LARGO gaining recognition at Oscar®️qualifying festivals, how are you approaching awards season?
We’re very grateful for the attention Largo has received from festivals so far, and we hope that keeps going. We’re working really closely with Slick Films to make sure we choose the festivals that will help the film, the cast and crew, the wider project, and the subject matter get the attention we think they deserve.
You’re developing a debut feature and a TV pilot — can you share a bit about what’s next for Studio Goodluck?
Yeah, those are the big ones. The pilot is for an anthology TV series, all about the various immigrant communities that live in London, and the experience of living in such a multicultural city. Each episode features a writer/director and a lead actor with a connection to one of those communities. It’s sort of autobiographical for a lot of talented people we know.
The feature you mentioned explores similar themes to that series, and to Largo, cultural dislocation and grief, but it’s a combination of our own experiences and our family histories, set between the UK and Italy. It’s also got a bit more comedy and romance to it. We’ve started describing it as Lost In Translation meets Bicycle Thieves.
And there are several other projects on the backburner while we focus on launching Largo…one of which may or may not be a feature adaptation of Largo… we’ll see.
