What was your inspiration behind Recesses?
The film was almost built completely as a memory piece around my childhood. We shot this film at my old elementary school in Metro Detroit, the same where my father taught third grade. After dismissal, I would wander the empty halls as he worked tirelessly into the night. Through watching my dad’s endless work, I learned quickly how public educators are constantly overlooked and undervalued. The job goes beyond just teaching, such as being present with every child and giving them the tools to articulate their emotions. Like the film’s protagonist, I also dealt with a traumatic experience at an age where I was too young to have the knowledge or vocabulary to explain what it was that happened to me. Especially with men in the midwest, this struggle often carries into adulthood and creates a cycle of repression, generations never learning to confront the painful feelings within themselves nor their loved ones. I wanted to tell my story with an expressionism that reflects how I had felt my traumatic experience, in hopes to confront this repressive cycle. I hope my film allows for viewers to reflect on what went unsaid from their own upbringing, how their world acknowledged or ignored traumas, as well as highlight the weight that we place on our public educators.
Why did you choose to tell the story through the perspective of the school secretary, Sherry, as opposed to a teacher?
My dad always said that the most overlooked person working at a school is the secretary. They know just about every student, have an understanding of each classroom’s schedule and sit on the front lines, yet they often go unnoticed. While teachers deserve more credit than we give them, I wanted to showcase a job that we give even less recognition towards. Every single role within a school is important.
The film incorporates abstract imagery and sound design. What inspired you to use these elements as part of the storytelling?
The film is centered around characters repressing their emotions. Early on in the writing process, I discovered how I could express the character’s inner worlds through an expressionistic use of sound design, rather than trying to communicate solely through visuals and dialogue. Often filmmakers think of the emotional impact sound has through utilizing music, but for me, sound design can be even more effective than music while simultaneously creating a totally unique style for a film.
By the end, much about Bailey’s past is left unsaid, creating a sense of mystery. How challenging was it to decide how much to reveal and how much to leave ambiguous?
Figuring out how much to reveal to the audience was always a delicate line to balance, especially during post-production. What was most important for me was that audiences could understand generally what happened to Bailey and who did it, rather than showing the gruesome specifics. I know from personal experience that it can be difficult for victims of assault to completely recount or recognize what it is that happened to them, especially if it occurred during childhood. I wanted to be as honest to that and not re-traumatize any victims watching the film.
Charles John Wilson delivers a remarkable performance for such a young actor. What kinds of conversations or guidance did you share with him to help him embody such a complex, troubled character?
Charlie and I had some candid conversations about what it was that Bailey was struggling with, but I mostly think the strength of his performance came from us getting to know and bond with each other. There was always a trust between both of us that we’d feel comfortable about what we were doing. I even gave him codewords in case a scene was getting difficult and he wanted some time away from the crew to work on it or talk to me. I also constantly tried to make each scene feel fresh no matter how rehearsed it was, such as by giving him a new line or direction on the spot.
The cinematography is striking. How did you collaborate with your DP, Cece Chan, to achieve the film’s visual style?
I knew that I wanted Cece to shoot the film about a year before I even began pre-production. She has an uncanny ability to light interiors in a way that feels both natural and charged with emotion. She came out to Michigan a few months before production where we walked through the entire shot list, and from there we kept looking for ways to outdo our own blueprint. We also, and this is a major part of it, received the Panavision New Filmmaker Grant, which gave us the best equipment we could’ve dreamed of.
Though brief, the exchange between Bailey’s father and Sherry leaves a lasting impression. How did you conceive and shape that pivotal moment?
That scene came from my Dad’s stories of teachers confronting parents with sensitive information and being dismissed in return. With that said, I wanted to bring more of a nuance to it. I think it’d be easy to present Bailey’s father as some evil caricature; but truthfully, I think a lot of good and decent parents can lack the emotional tools to accept when something is wrong with their kid. It’s messier to reckon with, but I think it’s true.
Looking ahead, what’s the next project you’re working on?
Writing another short, doing some research for a feature, and trying not to think about how I’ll raise money to make either project.
