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Indie Memphis 2023: Jeanie Finlay on Your Fat Friend

“I wanted to make a film about fatness,” says Jeanie Finlay.

The English director first appeared in Indie Memphis with her 2015 film Orion: The Man Who Would Be King, a portrait of Jimmie Ellis, the masked singer who inspired rumors that Elvis had faked his death. She has a knack for finding great cinematic characters in real life, such as Freddie McConnell, the pregnant trans man in Seahorse. When she got the nod to document the creation of the final season of Game of Thrones for The Last Watch, she concentrated not on the series’ big stars, but on the special effects guy who made the fake snow, and the background performer who had been marching with the same pretend army for the better part of a decade. 

This time around, the theme came first, then she found blogger Aubrey Gordon, and the film Your Fat Friend was born.  “I read the first piece that Aubrey wrote that went viral,” Finlay recalls. “It had this emotional intensity, and she was anonymous. You know me, I like a masked person. The fact that she was anonymous meant that she could speak to politics and be free rather than be distracted in stupid conversations.” 

You might say Finlay was lucky to find Gordon before she became the successful author of What We Don’t Talk About When We Talk About Fat and the co-star of the podcast Maintenance Phase. But really, the director was just one of millions of people who found truths in Gordon’s message of body positivity. “Speaking about the personal politics of what it means to live in a fat body just seemed really powerful,” she says. 

Originally, the idea was for Gordon to write the voiceover for an essay documentary. The film simmered on the back burner as Aubrey’s career took off and Finlay made Seahorse and The Last Watch. But when they finally met in person, Finlay decided she had found a new character to focus on. “She seemed like this hugely charismatic person with a really complex interior voice. As soon as I met her, I was like, ‘Oh, I think she is my film … Then I met her mom, and I met her dad, who struggled to even say the word ‘fat.’ I knew that this film lay in the space between her and her parents — the act of becoming visible to the world, but also to her family. So I abandoned a year of work, because I wasn’t feeling it.” 

Just when the film seemed to be coming together, the pandemic hit. “I was out in Portland in February, 2020, and I left cameras there because I was coming back.”

Instead, Finlay found herself directing shoots in the Pacific Northwest from the other side of the world, in her native Nottingham, England. “I taught Aubrey how to use one of the cameras, and then I hooked up with three different camera people in Portland: Michael Palmieri, Donald Mosher, and Lindsay Tranel …This isn’t my first time at the rodeo, but I want to learn on each film. One of the things I learned on Seahorse was that I couldn’t always be there. It’s not just, ‘I’m the director!’ This is a collaboration. And so I bought a microphone to stick on her camera and a cradle, so she was always ready. I was checking in all the time, ‘Have you filmed this?’ It was just to get the building blocks. I become possessed by the film once I start making it.” 

These remote shoots yielded one of the most powerful moments in the film. Gordon filmed herself opening an email to find out that her first book had been accepted for publication. “It was pretty weird, wild, intense ride,” says Finlay. “Her writing just blew up. Everyone recognized the thing that I saw in her writing that was really special. She got a book deal, then her second book comes out, and it’s a New York Times bestseller. She launched Maintenance Phase, and it’s become wildly popular, because it’s so clever and smart and brilliant.” 

When the coronavirus had subsided enough for Finlay to return to the states, she was able to capture Aubrey in her element as the podcaster got her first taste of fame. “It’s hard to shake off a whole lifetime of conditioning and value judgments,” says Finlay. “At the beginning, Aubrey said to me, you can put the camera wherever you want. I don’t care. So it was a real liberation, and I wanted to really celebrate her body, the volume of it, because she’s monumental. With her voice, her height — she’s 5-foot-10 — she’s big in every way. I wanted to make people sit with her fatness, because I think it’s uncomfortable for some people.” 

The response to Your Fat Friend has been anything but uncomfortable. “I put all of my heart and soul into all the films I make, but this was really a film I made for myself. I made the film that I wished I’d been able to watch when I was 13 years old. Someone once told me that I would never be loved because I was fat, and it really shaped my self-identity. I wanted to make a film for that vulnerable teenager, sort of say, look, this is a construct, and people don’t know how to treat your body and soul with tenderness. So I was super nervous when we showed it at Tribeca [Film Festival]. We sold out all our screenings in less than half an hour. I know Aubrey’s got a big following, but then it just felt like more pressure. When the film ended, everyone stood up. I went, ‘Oh my God, Aubrey! Everyone’s leaving! Remind them there’s a Q and A!’ Then I realized, ‘Oh, this is a standing ovation.’”

Your Fat Friend screens on Wednesday, Oct. 25 at 6:00 p.m. and Friday, Oct. 27 at 2:45 p.m. at the Indie Memphis Film Festival. Tickets and passes are available at the Indie Memphis website.

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Director Jeanie Finlay Opens Up About Her New Documentary Seahorse: The Dad Who Gave Birth

Freddy McConnell in Seahorse: The Dad Who Gave Birth

Jeanie Finlay’s 2015 film Orion: The Man Who Would Be King was a natural fit for the Indie Memphis Film Festival. It was the story of Jimmy Ellis, a masked singer from Alabama who gained a cult audience in the late 1970s by starting a rumor that Elvis Presley had faked his death and was releasing albums under the name Orion. The brilliantly structured documentary-as-mystery-story opened a lot of doors for the Nottingham, England, filmmaker. “I usually hunt down a story, get access, find funding, blah blah blah. Years later, you end up with a film,” she says. “But the last two films I made, Game of Thrones: The Last Watch and Seahorse came to me.”
photo by Jo Irvine

Jeanie Finlay

The Last Watch was a huge project, conducted completely in secret, that followed the cast and crew of Game of Thrones as they filmed their final season. Ironically, it was better received than the show it documented. Finlay says when she was reading the negative buzz that surrounded the franchise’s finale, “we thought we were going to get crucified.”

But the documentary turned out to be a hit. In Belfast, where the series was filmed, HBO arranged a pair of theatrical screenings for the film. “The demand was so much that it broke the websites of both cinemas … I think The Last Watch helped a lot of the people who had worked on the show to say goodbye. That wasn’t what I intended, but it was a really lovely outcome.”

Amazingly, while shooting The Last Watch, Finlay was simultaneously filming another project. And this one was much more risky. Freddy McConnell is a trans man from the tiny coastal town of Deal, England. “Freddy met with lots of directors because he was looking for someone to tell his story. He wanted to get pregnant, and he knew he’d seen a lot of bad films about trans journeys. Freddy was able to articulate his transness after watching videos of young trans men on YouTube. He’s also a journalist, so he understood that there could be power in telling his story in a way that was open rather than relying on rubbish tropes of trans storytelling, where the transition is treated like a magic makeover, and you hear the trans person’s deadname.”

Freddy McConnell

McConnell’s quest to become a parent was long and arduous. A trans man giving birth is more common than one might think, but it is still a rare and difficult process. “When we all signed on to do [it], we said, ‘Well, he might not ever get pregnant. He might not get his period back. He might not be fertile.’ I mean, I have a friend who has been trying to get pregnant for eight years. It felt risky. There were conversations where we said, ‘Do we have a film if he doesn’t get pregnant, or if he loses the baby?’ We joked, ‘Well, it’ll be a short film.’ But it was amazing how quickly it came together in the end.”

McConnell’s pregnancy, achieved through a private fertility clinic, was fraught and difficult. Finlay alternated her time between Belfast, where “dragons and explosions” were happening constantly, and Deal, which was much quieter. “You have to be super patient,” Finlay says. “I was training for a half-marathon, so I used to run along the seafront in Deal. Freddy didn’t always want to film, because he felt so bad. So I would just wait and wait. And run and meditate on the film, trying to think what his gender dysphoria felt like, and trying to compose images to translate that for an audience.

“For me, it was an opportunity to think about what it was like when I got pregnant,” Finlay continues. “My daughter’s 16, but I had not really reflected fully on the experience. Pregnancy is a weird club that you only share with other people once you’re pregnant. People start taking you to one side and you get let in on all the secrets. So there was a bit of unknownness. I just had so many questions for him about being pregnant, but also about stopping testosterone. The process of transitioning in the UK, if you want access to testosterone, is a very long process. You can apply for a gender recognition certificate which is a long and arduous process. You have to see a doctor over 18 months before you can even start. It was like, wow, he’s going to pause that for a while. How is that going to be? And at the beginning of the film, he’s like, ‘Wow, this is going to be great!’ Then as soon as the testosterone stops, he’s like, ‘This is horrendous. I hate it.’ Then when he gets pregnant, he’s, ‘Oh my god, what have I signed up for?’”

Freddy McConnell and his mother Esme.

Finlay’s patience paid off when she was able to capture pure and emotionally open moments from her subjects. “There’s an interview in Seahorse with Esme, Freddy’s mom, where she’s sitting down and crying. There’s not really any interviews in the film but that one. When I got there, she said, ‘Come over. I want to talk’. She was just ready. It’s about knowing what doors are marked ‘push,’ and going there.”

One of the most difficult moments to capture was the birth. Finlay and producer Andrea Cornwell had long negotiations with the NHS hospital before securing permission to attend the birth. But when the day came, and Finlay showed up with her cinematographer, the deal almost fell apart. “Esme, Freddy’s mom, came out and said, ‘Jeanie, it can only be you.’ I was like, no pressure! I just hoped it would be okay, and I was having a very emotional experience myself. I was crying, trying to focus the camera, then crying some more, trying to see if the baby’s okay. It was wild.”

Seahorse: The Dad Who Gave Birth is one of the most enlightening and moving explorations of the trans experience ever put to film. It currently has the much-envied 100 percent positive rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Much of the film’s success is a result of the chemistry between the subject and the director. “Because he had spent so long thinking about transitioning, Freddy was able to articulate that very fluidly. He was often a spokesman for trans stories on TV. However, the pregnancy was so new he didn’t always have the language to describe what he was feeling. He’s the most British person I’ve ever met. He is very reserved, and middle-class and quiet. I think he found it bracing that I was there, and being quite Northern and brusque. ‘C’mon, Freddy!’ He opened up, but I think it was really, really hard. Now, he’s able to articulate it freely. He’s got a story he’s ready to tell. But capturing that in the moment was really hard. It’s an enormous act of bravery to take part in a film like this, and open yourself up to that. I think it is such a difficult process to articulate your emotions in the moment, to not allow yourself the freedom to collect yourself. Freddy’s always articulate. He’s a very verbally dexterous person. But he was articulating experiences in the moment that he had never had before, and I think that’s very brave.”

Finlay says making the film was an incredible learning experience for her, and she hopes it will be for the audience as well. “I realized a lot of the language we use to describe the trans experience is just wrong and completely out of date. It was written by cis people who have no understanding. The idea of ‘born in the wrong body’ is daft. Freddy has always been a guy. Now his outside reflects who he is as a person. I remember feeling very moved when I saw the archive of Freddy as a young child. I was looking at a little boy … I’m a cis woman making this film, but I made it with him, not just about him.”

Seahorse: The Dad Who Gave Birth is available on Video on Demand services in the United States. Through July 2nd, you can also see the film, along with seven other documentaries by the director, in The Museum of the Moving Image’s online retrospective People Everyday: The Films of Jeanie Finlay.

Director Jeanie Finlay Opens Up About Her New Documentary Seahorse: The Dad Who Gave Birth

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Indie Memphis 2015: The Directors

“We serve two complementary groups of people in Memphis,” says Ryan Watt, executive director of Indie Memphis. “We serve the filmmakers and artists, to help their work get seen, and help with things like grants and workshops and panels and networking opportunities. We help artists from Memphis and beyond get their movies seen. On the other hand, we serve the audiences who are dying to see something different. I like superhero movies, too, but there’s only so much of that we can see.”

For 18 years, Indie Memphis has pursued those twin missions. What began with movies projected on a sheet in a downtown bar has evolved into one of the city’s premier cultural events. This year brings big changes to the festival, beginning with Watt, who took over as director earlier this year after the departure of Erik Jambor. Watt, a producer with seven features under his belt, was an Indie Memphis board member who volunteered to be the interim director after the January resignation of Jambor. In September, what was originally a temporary position became permanent. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I thought that would be it. But we started the search for executive director, and I got about a month into it, and I thought, ‘I’m really enjoying this.'”

This year’s festival expands to eight days, from November 3rd-10th, to allow audiences more opportunities to see movies that might have gotten lost in the shuffle in the former four-day format. “We kept the weekend, which is the anchor of the festival, and we added screenings before and after it,” Watt says. Friday through Sunday screenings, panels, parties, and events will take place at Circuit Playhouse and Studio on the Square in Overton square, while the rest of the festival will take place downtown in the Orpheum Theatre’s new Halloran Centre.

The festival takes place late in the film calendar, which means Indie Memphis can get unique films. “The Sundance and South by Southwest films have made the rounds and already have distribution. But we’re a month before the big Oscar push, so we get movies like Carol and Anomalisa and Brooklyn. Other festivals don’t get those,” Watt says.

One of the most buzzed-about films at the festival is Tangerine, director Sean Baker’s comedy that was shot entirely on an iPhone. “I think about that movie on a daily basis,” Watt says. “You think about the movies that change independent film, like Clerks or Pulp Fiction. Tangerine will be on that list.”

Director Whit Stillman

In addition to bringing the cutting edge of film to Memphis, the festival also celebrates classic cinema. The groundbreaking indie Metropolitan will get a 25th-anniversary screening, with director Whit Stillman on hand to answer audience questions and, on Saturday, conduct a screenwriting panel. For the centennial of Orson Welles’ birth, the festival is partnering with Rhodes College to screen his 1965 Shakespeare adaptation Chimes at Midnight, which the director considered to be his best film. “This is a big deal,” Watt says. “We’re showing a 35-mm print. Only a handful of copies exist in the world.”

With a new online ticketing system and a plan for expanded year-round programming, Watt wants to make sure Indie Memphis rounds out its second decade bringing even more big-deal events to the city.

Andrea Morales

Joann Self Selvidge and Sara Kaye Larson worked for four years on The Keepers

The Keepers

This year’s crop of local films is the strongest in recent memory. The festival opens with The Keepers, a documentary by Memphis directors Joann Self Selvidge and Sara Kaye Larson. The pair met at a dinner party hosted by photographer William Eggleston in 2011.

Larson is a survivor of Hodgkin’s lymphoma. “One of my first films I was recognized for was, I did a super-D.I.Y. film where I videotaped everything while I was going through chemotherapy in the early 2000s.”

Andrea Morales

The idea for The Keepers came from Larson’s daily walk through Overton Park. “I was obsessed with the Zoo,” she says. “I wanted to go behind the scenes. I’d always wanted to make a real documentary. Joann said, ‘I do too!’ And that’s how it happened.”

Self Selvidge has produced and directed documentaries for 11 years. Her most recent work, The Art Academy, detailed the history of the Memphis College of Art. Her close collaboration with Larson was a first for her. “We’re both used to doing everything ourselves,” Self Selvidge says. “She and I actually think a lot alike. We have way more similarities than differences. We had lots of friction in certain areas and a lot of opinions. And it made the film stronger. I’ve always worked with really strong people and a strong crew. I didn’t go to film school. I’ve learned by doing it, and I learned from other people.”

Jamie Harmon

Carolyn Horton and Kofi the giraffe

Jamie Harmon

Fred Wagner, the big cat keeper

The pair shot more than 300 hours of footage during the four-year production. “The biggest thing we want Memphis to know about this movie is that they’re going to get unprecedented access behind the scenes at the Zoo. The whole point of making this movie was to answer documentaries that rely on sensationalism. It doesn’t matter if zoos are good or bad. What about the people who work there? What is their experience? Connecting to zoos through the eyes of the worker, it’s going to give you a perspective that you have never seen before,” Self Selvidge says.

Larson says the finished product ended up being far different from the film the directors thought they would be making. “When we went into it, we thought, ‘This is going to be such an interesting story, because we’re going to film people that love animals, but yet they have to take care of them in captivity. They’re going to be so conflicted. This will be a great story.’ But guess what? They’re not conflicted. They’re fine with it. And they should be. They’re totally zen.”

But for the Grace

But for the Grace

Emmanuel A. Amido came to Memphis at age 12 as a refugee from war-torn South Sudan. “The first four or five years are kind of a blur, because I didn’t know the language or understand the culture,” he says.

His interest in filmmaking began when his mother bought a digital camcorder. “During birthday parties and events, I always wanted to be the one holding the camera. During my junior year of high school, I took a media class. Our final project was to produce a little newspiece. I loved it. That was the first time I got to edit. That’s when I decided I was going to do this for a living.”

Amido’s films are shaped by his immigrant experiences in Memphis. “I’m very fascinated by American society. In such a short period of time, so much has happened. When you look at the world timeline, when America came into the world, it’s like nothing. But in that short period of time, it was established, developed, and surpassed nations that had been around since Moses. That’s fascinating to me, the idea of democracy, and rights, and privilege.”

His first film Orange Mound, Tennessee: America’s Community won the Soul of Southern Film award at 2013’s Indie Memphis. “It was going to be about the violence of Orange Mound, but when I started making it, it became something else,” he says. “I wanted to make something that the people of Orange Mound could celebrate. A lot of people I met were beat up and worn down from the struggle and the poverty. So I wanted to make something to lift them up.”

In But for the Grace, Amido explores questions of faith and race in contemporary America. “I started with Martin Luther King’s quote that Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in America. I went in to look at some of the issues that keep churchgoing Americans segregated. I wanted to move along both socioeconomic and racial lines. But as the movie progressed, I discovered that race is still a very touchy subject for people to talk about in the church, on both the white side and the black side. So I focused more on the racial side.”

Amido’s unique perspective allows him to conduct frank discussions on race relations with people on both sides of the Sunday-morning divide. “America is not a perfect society, not by a long shot. But what I like about being here is that even though it’s imperfect, even though there’s a lot of inequality, somebody like me, who’s not even from here, can make a documentary calling people out on these issues. I’m not saying that after this movie comes out, blacks and whites are going to hug each other. But I’m able to do that, and there are people who will see it, and will think about it, who don’t think they have to defend a certain point of view. The majority of the world doesn’t have that, and Americans take it for granted.”

Girl in Woods

Girl in Woods

“We sort of made the movie twice,” says Memphis native Jeremy Benson about his psychological horror movie Girl in Woods.

After completing and selling his 2008 film Live Animals, he and his producing partner Mark Williams were trying to sell investors on a vampire film. “We were in a pitch meeting, and the investor said he liked the business plan, but he didn’t want to be attached to that kind of story,” he recalls. “I blurted out that I was working on a short story about a girl with some mental problems who gets lost in the Smoky Mountains. From that statement to about two months later, we had the money, but we didn’t have the script.”

Over the course of an 18-day shoot in East Tennessee, the crew, which included ace Memphis cinematographer Ryan Earl Parker, battled the elements. “We underestimated how hard it would be to shoot in the mountains. Out of the 18 days we were there, it rained nine of them. It looks great in the movie, but it really slows you down.”

Juliet Reeves London, who plays the lead character Grace, turned in a nuanced performance despite the harsh conditions.”Juliet was a trooper, having to shoot around snakes. She’s in 90 percent of the movie. She does a great job.”

But when Benson got the hard-won footage back to the editing room, he and editor Brian Elkins discovered their problems were only beginning. “We cut it, but there were big sections of the story that were not coming across like they should.”

So the crew convinced their investors to finance a series of reshoots that would add a backstory in flashbacks that was previously told in dialogue. “We went back and shot half the movie again,” Benson says. “Honestly, I’m glad we did it. I’m 10 times more proud of this cut than I was two years ago. It forced us to go from the in-town, D.I.Y.- style to getting a casting director, go through the unions, and get a breakdown, and do it the way we’re supposed to do it.”

The reshoots added Buffy the Vampire Slayer star Charisma Carpenter and Party of Five‘s Jeremy London to the cast. Girl in Woods is also the last film role by the late Memphis actor John Still, who was a fixture in Craig Brewer’s films. The finished film is dense and twisty, not relying on gore and jump-scares to build tension. “It’s a horror film, but it’s definitely pushing the genre in all sorts of different directions.”

Benson says the movie is a tribute to the power of persistence. He recalls asking experienced filmmakers for advice on how to improve after his first film. “And they always said ‘Just do it.’ We thought they were being sarcastic. But after doing it, we realized they were telling the truth. You just do it.”

Wind Blows

Syl Johnson: Any Way the Wind Blows

“Syl’s story really found me,” says director Rob Hatch-Miller. The New Yorker met the soul singer in 2009 while filming for a radio station’s website. “I didn’t know a lot of his music at the time. I knew his name, and I knew he had a reputation for being sampled a lot in the hip-hop world. But I didn’t know much beyond that. Seeing him interviewed that day, it was clear that he had a fascinating story about his career in music and that he was a fascinating character. He’s a super interesting guy: funny, quirky, great personality. The character is the most important part of deciding to do a documentary.”

Johnson is not as well known as Al Green or Marvin Gaye, but he had an astonishingly prolific career that spanned three decades. “He’s not someone who made one album and disappeared. The boxed set of his album that was nominated for a Grammy while we were filming is six LPs, and that doesn’t even cover half of his career. He did everything, from early 1960s, heavily blues-influenced R&B music, to super funky James Brown-style hard funk, to Hi Records-Memphis-style, to even doing some great disco-y stuff towards the end of his main recording career. His music went on to influence hip-hop in a major way, as much as James Brown or Al Green influenced hip-hop. Syl’s song ‘Different Strokes’ from 1967, recorded in Chicago for an independent record label, is one of the most sampled songs of all time.”

Johnson is a native of Holly Springs, Mississippi, and the film brought him back to the Memphis area. “We were going to these places in Memphis with Syl that he hadn’t been for years, seeing people whom he hadn’t seen in years,” Hatch-Miller says. “Hearing these stories that we had only had glimpses of previously, it was a really exciting time filming, and probably the most fun we had shooting. You can see it in the scene when he shows up at Hi Records where all of the stuff was recorded with Willie Mitchell and Al Green and Syl and Otis Clay and O.V. Wright. It was a wonderful day. The audience walks in the door with him and meets the family of Willie Mitchell, and you really feel like you’re being taken back in time. It’s one of my favorite parts of the film.”

Orion: The Man Who Would Be King

Orion: The Man Who Would Be King

Twelve years ago, English director Jeanie Finlay was at a car boot sale — “You would call it a yard sale” — when she found an old vinyl record called Orion Reborn. “On the cover there was a man with a mask, his hands on his hips, and big hair. For a pound, you can’t go wrong! So I took it home and played it. It was confusing. It sounded like Elvis, but it was after Elvis died. It was on Sun Records. What’s going on here?”

She went on to forge a career as a documentary filmmaker, but she never forgot about the mystery of Orion. She struggled for years to get funding for Orion: The Man Who Would Be King and traveled to the States to shoot whenever she could. “I never gave up. I feel like filmmaking sometimes is a test of your own resilience,” she says.

She gathered together 80 hours, 5,000 images, countless hours of archival material, and 337 crowd-funders before winning backing from Creative England, Ffilm Cymru Wales, BBC Storyville and Broadway. “Once I had gotten all of those things in place, everyone else came on board. There’s no magic bullet when it comes to making films. I felt possessed by Orion’s story, and I knew that one day, in some way or another, I was going to make it into a film.”

Orion’s Elvis-esqe appearance and singing style was cooked up by Sun Records, at that time owned by Shelby Singleton, and was the origin of the persistent myth that Elvis faked his death. “People just want it to be true. Every time there’s something people want to be true, those are the stories that go viral.”

Finlay says Orion: The Man Who Would Be King, which closes Indie Memphis, is, like all her films, “about what music means to people. It’s a different take on the things that were going on in the wake of Elvis’ death. Elvis is not actually in the film, but he casts sort of a long shadow over it. It’s funny, it’s moving, and it’s surprising.”