Horgan, Susie J.
Kelly Reichardt
Issue #30
The director discusses Old Joy and the debate over whether Hollywood is screwing over women
By Rebecca Flint-Marx
Published: December 1st, 2006 | 12:00am
Old Joy isn’t Kelly Reichardt’s directorial debut — that would be 1994’s River of Grass — but it is the first of her films to get her name heard outside of select festivals. The deceptively simple story of two men (played by Daniel London and Will Oldham) who take a trip to the woods outside of Portland, Oregon, Old Joy explores the vicissitudes of a quietly expiring friendship, as well as ideas of masculinity, West Coast–versus–East Coast attitudes, and disappointed liberal idealism.
Old Joy, which Reichardt adapted from a story by Jonathan Raymond, came out in October, and enjoyed some of the year’s best reviews. Released shortly after two articles in major national magazines decried Hollywood’s lack of opportunities for women, the film was a, well, joyful reminder that life exists outside of the Hollywood machine for both women and small, wonderful films. As such, Venus Zine has chosen to end 2006 by celebrating both Reichardt and her success. We spoke with the filmmaker, who, when she isn’t making movies, teaches at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts.
One reviewer called Old Joy a “post-feminist idea of masculinity.” What do you think of that?
I’m not scholarly enough to put it in those terms. I thought of [the film] in terms of being a Western, and what would transpire instead of the usual “I’m tougher than you are shoot-em-up.” Instead, it would be this competitiveness of openness. I’m calling it a New Age Western: [the men] are competitive about who’s more open.
It seems like a lot of people expect women to make films about women.
I’ve been asked about that. In a lifetime of seeing men depicting women onscreen, I’ve never read about a male director being asked, “How could you depict a woman?” It’s kind of easy to dismiss [the question] because I was making a film about people who live on the West Coast instead of the East Coast.
What’s your view of the latest round of articles about Hollywood screwing over women?
We can’t be limited to that. After River of Grass, I went to L.A., but I really couldn’t function in that environment. There are all these things that make you aware of gender, limits, and being so much at the mercy of so many strangers. It all fed into the ultimate way I’ve ended up making films: when I made Ode, a 15-minute narrative [using a] Super-8 [camera], it was a really defining moment. I can have control; I just have to keep it really small. I make really small films that are so atmospheric, so geared toward landscapes. When the well is completely dry, I can still pick up the Super-8 and make low-gauge art. And I’ve been teaching, so my lifestyle is not dependent on films or making anybody money. Also, I’ve been really fortunate to have strong support by my peers my whole adult life.
You were born in Miami, where your father was a crime-scene detective and your mother was an undercover narcotics agent. Did their work influence you at all?
They brought their work home. My parents divorced when I was 8, and my father moved into a house with five other crime-scene detectives who got divorced at the same time. Those stories from those detectives — an arm’s-length view of the work — sort of informed the script I never made in L.A. And my dad took photos [of crime scenes], so that led me to photography when I was a kid. I had my Pentax K1000 like every other 12-year-old.
Did any movies make a big impression on you when you were growing up?
The first time I thought of [film] as something someone was controlling was when I saw Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? It was the final scene on the beach, in black and white. It was probably my first nugget of an idea that someone was making films. Miami in the ’70s was not the center of any kind of cultural revolution. Thurston Moore was born [there] and told me he saw an ad in the paper there that said, “If anybody in this town has heard of the Clash, please call me.” It was all retirees, all pre–Miami Vice. It wouldn’t necessarily occur to you that you could make a film.
Are you working on anything new?
Yes, with the crew that I made Old Joy with. We’re hoping to shoot a film this spring. Jonathan Raymond and I have been working on the story, which I [can’t] articulate. But if the film gods let us, I’m game.
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