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Eoghan Lyng – The short opens with a couple in bed: how comfortable were they in conveying the raw intimacy?
Sarah Sellman – I think that as a director, it’s really important to create a safe supportive space for your actors to become physically comfortable with each other, especially in moments of intimacy. I do a lot of work in fields that require me to hold containers for healing and other forms of growth work, and I believe that this skill lends itself well to my directing. Our actors were cast online and we did most of our rehearsals on Zoom. We had one day of rehearsal before shooting and a lot of the time during that rehearsal focused on this physically comfort and intimacy with one another through a series of exercises. I believe on the day shooting, they were very comfortable with the intimacy, and most of what you see in the first minute of the film was improvised.
EL – One character asks another to assume their identity; is this a commentary on the masks queer people wear?
SS – I think it’s more of a commentary on the masks that we all wear. As a Neurodiverse person who mostly works in Neurotypical spaces it feels very clear to me so much of our interactions are through the masks that we’ve created in order to protect ourselves from unintentional and intentional harm. To me the scene and moment between them is about a sort of recognition that there’s healing available in the switching of roles and the conversation by proxy. Our main character’s wounds are part of what allow her to go on this journey.
EL – The characters speak with Irish accents; were they written for Irish actors?
SS – The short was written with Ireland in mind as the shooting location and shot in Ireland. The feature script that preceded the short is a sort of disco rodeo road trip extravaganza told through the lens of emotional realism and more of that deep intimacy that you pointed out. Because our time in Ireland was so successful, I am currently rewriting the script to see if it can become something even more spectacular in an Irish setting.
EL – Did you set out to make a horror, love story, or a hybrid of all?
SS – I sat out to make a story about queer expression and healing by proxy. I think for me, the genre is something soft, dramatic, and magically real, and full of the tension of being human. I think the only difference between a horror film, and something like this is scale in terms of how we depict the metaphor of certain forms of pain.
EL – The haircut scene calls to mind the relationship between the family members in the televsiion show Bad Sisters. Did Sharon Horgan’s work imbue yours, and if not, what did?
SS – You know, I recently watched the pilot of Bad Sisters and really enjoyed Sharon Hogan‘s work, but that was the first time that I had ever encountered it. I think I’m very interested in everyday intimacy and everyday magic, and the escalation of that quotidian thing into something weird and wonderful. I’m really inspired by directors like Andrea Arnold, Jeff Nichols, and Jane Campion.
EL – Do you think Gillyfish could be extended into a feature film, and what would you add to pad out the tale?
SS – Gillyfish actually started as a feature film, so it’s been really easy to imagine what that might look like even as our concept for the movie evolves. In the feature version, it’s not Lana that asks Gillian to take on her identity, it’s a choice Gillian makes, and we spend almost half the movie with Gillian in the home of Lana‘s family and the tension and magic of that before several plot twists reveal that everybody has been lying about something – using the circumstances to heal, to learn more about Lana etc.
EL – How did you discover Aoife Commons, and what elements did she bring to the part?
SS – We used a traditional casting process, and Aoife was one of the people we called in to read for the part. Her earnest and vulnerable expressions really won me over. She’s great at taking notes and integrating them, and letting all of the feelings be present in her body and eyes, and she makes really authentic choices. Her earnestness is such a gift and so helpful for a role like this.
EL – How many days did you spend shooting the film?
SS – Two days! It was a fast little adventure!
EL – A man gives a very soulful performance, in a film with a very female sensitivity. Was it important to get a male voice?
SS – I can’t say that having a male voice present in the film was part of my intention, but I can say that the weaving of the story demands a healing of Gillian‘s relationship to her own father even in the subtextual layer of this short. I think often if we are engaging with conversations about attachment and intimacy we are engaging with conversations about parental wounds. I think very easily the parental gender could have been switched but this has always been the archetype that showed up for this constellation of family wounds.
EL – During the credits, a jazz drum plays, as if sweeping the characters from the audience’s memory. Was it a stylistic decision?
SS – Apple Tree by Why Bonnie just felt like the right fit to me from the moment I heard it – it has that forlorn pop sound of the longing and regret that comes after betrayal. But you’re right that the drums are a bit purifying, and I do think it’s helpful to lift the audience out of the quiet desperation and into the next layer of healing.
EL – What is next for you?
SS – I am really excited to be finishing up a new Ireland set draft of the future version of Gillyfish. We are financing and moving towards production in order to make something more exploratory with its visceral intimacy. This is a film about the choices we make for the people we love, and how they can both heal and harm us. I’m also working on a book that’s feeling very alive and deals with similar themes — using magic mythology and symbolism to explore the deeply intimate space of attachment.
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Sarah is pictured at the top of this interview. The other image is a still from Gillyfish.
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