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1on1 with director Andrew Heckler (BURDEN)

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I recently had a chance to talk by phone with Andrew Heckler about his film Burden. The film recounts the story of a man (Mike Burden, played by Garrett Hedlund) who was heavily involved in the Ku Klux Klan. When he chose to leave the Klan, he was taken in by a black Baptist minister (Rev. David Kennedy, played by Forest Whitaker).

How did you come upon this story?

I read a blurb in a small newspaper in 1996 that says “Klansman opens Redneck Shop and KKK museum in small town town square.” And I couldn’t believe it. In 1996. You think that kind of story only exists in the Fifties and Sixties. It was amazing to me, so I put it in a folder and thought maybe I’d get back to it and write it. But before I could, about eight months later I saw another story and that said, “Klansman sells Redneck Shop and KKK museum to black Baptist minister.” At which case I almost fell off my chair because I just couldn’t believe the story. So I actually picked up the phone and called the Reverend and actually headed down to Laurens, South Carolina and I spent around ten days down there getting to know the congregation and the Reverend, getting to know the town of Laurens, South Carolina. Once I met them, I couldn’t help but fall in love with the story and fall in love with the people. That really was the spark.

In the press notes, it mentioned that you went undercover to meet Klansmen. Tell me a bit about that.

Yeah, that’s true. What I realized is after I met the Reverend and the congregation, and really got to know them and got the flavor of them, I really believed that in order to write this story, I needed to understand and get to know—at least to understand and empathize with the Klansmen. If you’re going to be writing a story about what it takes to get someone out of this sort of family of hatred, you better know the person and what the family was all about. So I basically called the Redneck Shop and KKK Museum and I just said, “I’m heading to Hilton Head and I’d love to stop by, I’m a member of your organization in Colorado and I’ve heard a lot about you guys.” They were very welcoming. I ended up going back down to Laurens and spending some time there with the Klansmen at the shop and spent a lot of time in areas were there were known Klan hangouts, and just got to know them a little bit better. Now what you really have to do is just put all of your personal beliefs aside and just kind of open up your eyes and your ears and take in where they’re coming from. And have empathy for who they are and where they’re coming from in order to tell a truthful, honest, and authentic story. So that’s what I did. I don’t think the movie would have had any of the complexities that it has unless I actually done that and got to know them a little bit.

You also spent time in Rev. Kennedy’s church and with Mike Burden. How was that experience?

My time with the Reverend Kennedy was amazing. He really is a man who’s willing to help not only African Americans but literally anyone. In Laurens, there was a line outside his office door on a daily basis—people that were coming to him who faced some sort of injustice. Black, white, Hispanic, it didn’t matter. If there was injustice, the Reverend would pick up and take off and go chase it down. He was very difficult to corner because he was always running around trying to solve different injustices that had been perpetrated on people who came to him. But also getting to know the congregation, and getting to spend a lot of time there, I just realized that the people of the congregation had so much joy. They were just dancing and singing, and just filled with life. It was really wondrous to see them down there. In addition, there’s the character who’s played by Usher Simpson. He and I spent a lot of time riding around. He told me so many things I could never imagine. But the realities of race relations, and where people fit in the world and economics down there were truly not black and white, but very, very gray. I owe him a huge debt of gratitude for that time he spent with me.

As far as Mike Burden goes, Mike and I developed a relationship over a long period of time, and had become very close and trusting friends. I admire Mike and what he’s done with his life, because he was on a one way path down the road of endless hatred and bigotry. Through the love of Judy, honestly, and the Reverend, he’s a changed man. He’s always been a very complicated individual. He was a real, real tough tough guy. He’s a very vulnerable soul as well. You can only imagine if he had not grown up, you know, in dire economic circumstances, if he’d not grown up in a really, really screwed-up family, if he’d not grown up with all the abuse that was heaped on him as a child, who he could have become. But he was very vulnerable and he was able to be hijacked by a family that really looked like family and felt like family, but it was a family built on hate. And families built on hate are only skin deep. So at that point for Mike Burden any family, any sign of attention or compassion or what would look like love, was welcome to him

The story takes place over 20 years ago. How have things changed in the community in that time? And what hasn’t changed?

It’s hard for me, honestly, to give you an in depth answer to that. I can tell you what’s changing now, what’s exciting now is that we’re using some of the proceeds from the theater and some of the partnerships we’ve established with some major corporations, our goal is to jump start the conversion of the KKK Museum into a center of tolerance and community of love in the center of Laurens Town Square. I think it’s an amazing project to think that space which was once steeped in hatred can now be steeped in tolerance and love. But as far as the race relations in Laurens, South Carolina, I’m not qualified really to speak about it. We didn’t shoot there. We shot in a very, very small town in Georgia.

I think that we’re all seeing what was someone relegated to small towns, the sort of open racism and bigotry that was relegated to small towns in 1996, now the lids been sort of brought off of it and we’re seeing it everywhere now. I know that when we filmed in Georgia there was a lot of interesting, if not hateful, dynamics going on. Also a lot of love and support. I’m sure it’s the same in Los Angeles and New York. I try not to let myself think it’s only in small southern towns or the South in general. This kind of racism and bigotry right now is not only in the United States but everywhere. I hear from people in Italy. We’re going to Italy with the movie because of the Syrian refuge crisis, and so they’re having a lot of issues right now with racism and bigotry in Italy, and they think the movie will play there. I’ve heard it a lot from people in the UK that have suffered at the hands of people because they’re Paki. There’s a lot of Indians and Pakistanis in the UK that are being marginalized and sort of persecuted for their race. It’s all over.

As you went through the process of creating this film, what did you learn about racism in your own life?

Oh, yeah! The messages in the film are fairly easy to digest. The real message is do unto others as you would do unto yourself. It’s the most simplistic of rules, period, and it’s leading throughout the entire movie. But it’s not easy. I look at my own life and the way that I deal with my family, my neighbors, and society around us, I have to think about things in a much simpler way, too. There’s a lot of times when you live and you don’t get along with your neighbor. And for what reason? Nobody knows. Strangely enough that’s a form of what’s going on in the movie in that it’s a label instead of actually opening your eyes and communicating with people. So in terms of racism in the movie and what I’ve learned about myself, is to really pay attention to when I’m not actually engaged in a discussion or conversation, when I’m not opening my heart and my eyes, but blindly labeling people, blindly being polarized and hating for no reason. The movie’s taught me quite a bit about empathy, and that you can’t affect any change until you put yourself in someone else’s shoes and live there for a while, and try to get their perspective on things.

Before finishing up, I know you touched on this a little bit earlier, is there anything you want to share about the #RehabHate hashtag the film promotes?

Sure, I just think nothing would be a greater irony than to convert that space of hatred into a space of love. I hope that can be a metaphor for what we can actually do—not only to physical spaces—but to the hearts and minds of people across this country right now, who are so polarized and entrenched in their positions that they can’t even see anybody right now. Like I said, I hope it’s a metaphor, and I think that Mike Burden really says it best when, at the end of the movie the real Mike Burden said, “She was able to see it. She saw who I was underneath the hatred. She saw that little hole in me. And she started chipping away and chipping away until that hole got bigger and bigger.” I would ask everybody to look for the hole in that other person who you think you hate. Look for the hole in the person you don’t agree with. And try to see if your hole also be seen and chip away and chip away until that hole gets bigger. I think that’s what the Redneck Shop conversion into #RehabHate means.

Corpus Christi – The Body of Christ

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“Each of us is a priest of Christ. Me, you. Each and every one of you.”

Oscar-nominated Corpus Christi (for Best International Feature Film) explores what it means to be a priest of Christ. But it does so through the story of an imposter who finds a community in need. The story is inspired by actual events. There are various such accounts for the filmmaker to chose from. The story is told with comedy, but also with darkness and pathos. In doing so, the balance creates an environment to consider our own role in serving Christ.

Twenty year old Daniel (Bartosz Bielenia) has had a spiritual awakening while in a juvenile detention center. He serves as an acolyte for the Father Tomasz who holds services. When he is to be paroled, he wishes he could go to seminary, but none will accept him with his criminal record. He goes to a town where he is to report to a sawmill for work. He wanders into the church and meets Eliza (Eliza Rycembel) a young woman whose mother (Aleksandra Konieczna) seems to run the church. Trying to impress Eliza, Daniel claims to be a priest, and has a clergy collar to prove it.

When the local vicar has a spiritual breakdown and must go for treatment, he convinces Daniel (going by the name Father Tomasz) to fill in for a day or two. It is Daniel’s dream come true. But it turns out to be more than just a day or two. Soon Daniel is having to deal with various spiritual issues that the town is struggling with—especially the grief and anger over several people killed in an auto accident.

He soon becomes an important part of the community. He connects with young people (especially Eliza). He uses the kinds of therapy sessions he experienced in juvie to lead the people through their grief. His preaching brings joy and hope. He reaches out to the woman who many blame for the accident. He goes to the sawmill where he was supposed to work to give a blessing. But that also leads to problems when someone recognizes him.

During a Q&A at the screening I saw at AFI Fest, director Jan Komasa noted that the Catholic Church did not want to cooperate with the film because they thought it made it seem like anyone could act like a priest. I sympathize with that sentiment. Most churches have requirements about who can be ordained. Those standards are important. The fact that Daniel was not ordained could well bring into question the validity of the rites he presided over. But it is also true that Daniel was a gifted young man who brought the healing grace of God into a community that sorely needed it. He was, despite being an imposter, truly the priest of Christ for those people.

The title of the film comes from the Feast of Corpus Christi, which is one of the events Daniel presided over. It becomes a key event in the crisis the town is experiencing. That feast focuses on the real presence of Christ in the elements of the Eucharist. The term translates as “Body of Christ”. In this story we see what it means for the church to be the body of Christ—and for Christians to be Christ’s presence in the world.

Even though I understand the Catholic Church’s opposition to this story, I also support the way this film brings forth an important concept, the priesthood of all believers. Even though we may see the ordained ministry as important, we also need to remember that the ministry of God in the world is not limited to the men and women who have had hands laid on them. The words Father Tomasz (the real one) speaks to his juvenile detention center congregation (the quote that opens this review), is a reminder to us all that we are all, each and every one, priests of Christ to those we meet and serve.

Photos courtesy of Aurum Films

1on1 with Jan Komasa (CORPUS CHRISTI)

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I recently had the opportunity to speak by phone with Jan Komasa, director of the Polish film Corpus Christi, which is on the shortlist of films being considered for an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Feature. The film is the story of a young man (Daniel) who impersonates a priest in a small town parish. The film is due to be released in the U.S. in the spring of 2020.

First off, congratulations on making the Oscar shortlist for Best Foreign Language Feature.

Thank you. Thank you. It came as a huge surprise, out of 90-some films. Yeah, a lot of people were working on this, at least to get it out to the members. Getting through a huge number of films, it’s a huge obstacle without a very big budget, because we don’t have a huge budget for promotion. We’re very happy.

 I see the film’s done well at film festivals. How has it been received in Poland?

So far, so good. About 1.4 million people saw it in cinemas, so the turnout is great. As far as I know the sales agent has sold it to around 40 countries, I believe. So it’s going great, for people with money.

That wasn’t my purpose to be honest, in the first place. I just wanted to make it sincere. To be honest, I’ve made some blockbusters already here in Poland, so I sort of know how it is. I’m not interested in big success. I’m interested in success, but not financial success. All of this, it might be overwhelming, but I don’t feel like I care that much about it.

This is a film that’s based on real event. Could you say a bit about how you heard of the story and made a film about it?

My scriptwriter, Mateusz Pacewicz, he was the one who heard about this. When he was eighteen years old he became obsessed with people pretending to be priests or people of faith in Poland—people of faith as officials of church. As it turned out there are several cases each year of imposters—fake priests. Not a lot people know about it because the Church is not happy with it either—being so easy to manipulate people with just wearing priests’ robes and collar. There’s such respect for priest, for Church, here in Poland, that people don’t ask you for credentials. They don’t check you out. They just believe that you’re not going to fool them or cheat them. Especially in rural areas.

So I didn’t know about it. We’ve heard some crazy stories about imposters every now and then. There was one case in 2011 where a guy was a fake priest for four months [including] May and June, which is during [the feast of] Corpus Christi, and he helped organize Corpus Christi in one of the small villages in rural Poland. That was the basis of Mateusz’s article in the newspaper. First it was a fiction short story, then he wrote it into an article. Thanks to the article he was approached by one of the top producers here in Poland who wanted to acquire rights for the story. And Mateusz decided to write it himself, with the help of the producer.

They found me and sent me the script. I was fascinated by it, but not too much. I sent them my commentary on the film and the process. They fell silent for two or three months.  After three months they sent me the revised version script, and it turned out they implemented ninety percent of my comments. It fit well with the script. I felt very, very lucky and I should appreciate it because while reading it I saw my film, but I also met this amazing guy, Mateusz, who I’ve already made another feature film with, and it’s finished.

What struck me with the film—with the project—at the beginning was, I’m Christian and my biggest fear—I have a huge family. I have three siblings. My parents, and my wife has four siblings. Everyone married. Almost everyone has kids. So when we sit at the table there’s thirty of us. My biggest fear is that—the family was always like a bubble. I felt secure in it. The family is like number one subtheme in my films. I have another project about family. So, I love family sagas like The Godfather. My biggest fear came when—I feel that around 2014-15 a huge national socio-political change came to Poland, not only to Poland, I could feel it going on everywhere, leaning towards ultra-conservatism. There’s been many reasons for it. But what happened with nations, with continents, is there turns out there’s a huge gap between tribes. There are tribes. That was the first thing to notice: there are tribes. The other thing is the gaps between tribes are huge. A gap of that size simply doesn’t allow people to come together and talk freely with each other.

Unfortunately it affected my family as well. The divide was not only cities and countries and streets, but families, and my family was one of them. My biggest fear was that one day it would all blow up, and people who were very close you feel are strangers. When I read the script for Corpus Christi I felt like it totally nails it—this fear of one community, which craves some kind of union, but it just fails. The community is broken, fractured. People know that and feel the hurt, but it’s just too much. It’s just too difficult for them to come together, to get over it.

The idea of a stranger coming to town and trying to do good, spread love, sort of learn the language of conversation using basic Christian values and approach—so Christian that sometimes it might be unheard of, even politically in the official Christian Church—at least in some places in Poland—that it might be revolutionary. Which is something, I think, is very basic today. Like, let’s just talk and come together. We’re not going to kill each other over differences. We’re all one species, so let’s just talk and do something about it. We don’t have to agree about everything. And the idea of having a healer, even when he’s fake, for me at least, was revolutionary and thrilling and refreshing. It just refers to a lot of my fear—and dreams at the same time.

One of the things about Daniel is that he’s broken too. When he comes to this community, he understands brokenness.

That’s right. Actually what’s tricky about this script, it might be very effective when it comes to creating paradox, which I really like in cinema. It’s great food for thought, if it’s written well. And here I think it was by Mateus remarkably well. We have two films in one. One film is about an imposter—a guy who uses his fake identity. I can easily imagine a film only about that. But there’s another film here about fractured community. I can also easily imagine a film about somebody, let’s say a real priest, but young, replacing the old priest at the parish and he comes and discovers there’s a mystery and a challenge, and he heals people. But here the two films are setting side by side together in one project and it gives a huge opportunity to play with paradoxes.

So for example, as you said, you have a broken person, who thanks to his brokenness, he relates to the broken community. We have a fake priest—somebody who cheats and lies. But at the same time he is able to squeeze out the truth from people. We have a patient from a juvenile detention center, and he runs a therapy on people who are not patients, but apparently behave like patients. We have a community which feels rejected by the overall society, and they don’t hesitate to reject other people too. Daniel is a broken character to start with, and he knows the bitter feeling of rejection himself. So when he finds that rejected people reject others, he finds the black sheep in the community, and he feels for her. He knows how it is to be out of the community—to be condemned by all. His mission becomes to get them together. I found it thrilling when I read it, and very rare in a feature film, that so many layers are conversing with perception and soul at the same time.

I saw in an interview that you think of this as a Protestant film. How so?

Protestant meaning probably a cultural thing. Poland is predominantly Catholic. Protestant in the way, at least stereotypically, in the way priests are with their community. In my understanding, there’s a certain wall between the priest and the community. At least here in Poland. The Protestant approach seems closer to people. Not every Protestant approach, obviously, but the barriers between someone who’s a priest, someone who’s a pastor and his community seem less severe, with less restrictions. I’m not saying there’s none because it’s impossible. It’s a function. It’s a social function, a church function. So it always creates some obstacles, obviously. But there’s a feeling that priests are not like regular people.

I was growing up with this, surrounded by this strong Catholicism. During Communism, Poland was very religious, because it was religion, but for fifty years it was religion that kept us going as a nation. Churches were the only places where we could gather freely—at least that’s what we thought. We felt we were independent in church. So a lot of intellectuals, people who are artists, people who today we would say they’re more affiliated with leftists—they found their home in church. That was the only place they could feel free—more free. After fifty years, when freedom was regained the Church sort of shelter wasn’t needed anymore. There’s a lot of people who after thirty years of being free as a country, we feel like the Church detached from the society to a huge extent. I feel the detachment is so great now, and I’m telling you, this as a Catholic, the Church became politically affiliated, especially with the right wing. They let nationalists, with the flag and the hate rhetoric, through its gates.

Suddenly, for people like me it became too hard to find our place in church. Not to say we were super active before, but still we felt—I felt too—that maybe, I don’t know, we became like two different species, tribes, too much. I just couldn’t find a relationship with church—my relationship with church—that significant. So I’m not the only one. But it doesn’t mean I’m not spiritual. I’m talking about me because it’s easier. I’m not generalizing. But I feel like I’m an example of many, many people who feel the same way. I feel like the community is still spiritual, as it was. Nothing changed in that matter. People need to talk about fundamental values and the sense of it all, not only philosophically and intellectually.

Since a lot of us felt we were sort of alone with this, but we don’t find any partner in Church anymore—the Catholic Church—we started to look for alternatives. That was probably Protestant church, which is not significant in Poland, became an option for a lot of people. A lot of now talk about Protestant church before talking about leaving church at all. I think that probably why Protestant church feels like the approach people are missing.

But that’s probably why this film, at least in Poland, was called a Protestant approach film. Like what is a guy who just wants to be closer with people without building too many walls around him because of the office he wields, just breaks barriers and wants to be very direct with people and more down to earth, almost like a pastor. Of course, it’s another generalization. To be honest, as I’ve said, we’re predominantly Catholic, so not much Protestant church in Poland, compared with knowledge as American about Protestant church. It’s complicated. I’m not an expert, but I feel like the Protestant approach is a bit more direct.

One of the lines that I find important in the film, and for me the theme of the film, is when Father Tomasz tells Daniel, “Each of us is a priest of Christ”. I thing that is often times seen as a very Protestant concept. We are all priests, not just the one who is designated as priest.

Okay. I think you’re right. I think that’s the theme. We don’t have to be designated to share Christ’s word, right?