The makers of Beasts of the Southern Wild, an independent film that’s been winning film festival awards and getting lots of great industry buzz, took on the rather daunting task of trying to convey the strange and remarkable undercurrent of energy that truly separates this region from the rest of the country, with pretty impressive results. Just as the movie's co-writer, Lucy Alibar suggests, “It’s cinematic, completely visual, and sensory. It does everything that only a movie can do.”
Shot in Terrebonne Parish using local, first-time actors, it’s the story of a young girl named Hushpuppy who lives in a remote, fictional swamp community at the very tip of Louisiana, called The Bathtub. Her mother has long since abandoned her, and her alcoholic, ailing father (Dwight Henry, owner of the Buttermilk Drop Bakery and Café in Mid-City, New Orleans) uses a tough-love approach in preparing his daughter for his death and an impending storm, which is threatening to decimate their home.
At first glance, theirs is a filthy, harsh, bizarre existence, but as the story progresses, with the help of Hushpuppy’s insightful and colorful narration, and a rather unconventional filmmaking style, we begin to appreciate the amazing outlook that the lifestyle and culture has afforded this little girl. It combines mythological elements (prehistoric cave paintings that come to life) with ecological considerations (the destruction of Louisiana’s wetlands, thanks to disruptive levees) and existential ponderings (Hushpuppy often contemplates the unraveling of the fabric of the universe). The outcome is a very primal, yet sort of high-concept representation of the region. Does that sound obtuse and pretentious? Sorry, it’s a multi-layered film that’s a bit hard to describe!
Luckily, I got the chance to speak with the filmmaker, his co-writer, and the star of the movie just before the New Orleans premiere. Each add some much-needed humanity to my clumsy attempt at a synopsis.
When I first met Quvenzhané, known as “Nazie” to friends and family, she had casually plopped herself in the director’s lap, and remained there while we chatted. This may sound a little sketchy on paper, but it was actually quite sweet, as Behn Zeitlin is a youthful, moppy-haired 29-year-old who seems more like her big brother than the boss who made her traipse around the swamps for seven weeks.
On the subject of filming the movie, she says, while grinning and hugging Behn’s neck, “It was not boring with this director! And I liked all the animals, except the pig. He was big and fat,” she admits, seemingly struggling to stop herself from holding her nose, as though indicating a possible pork-based hygiene issue would be rude. “And I’m used to the swamp, but I’m not used to the mosquitoes – all the mosquitoes! We don’t have mosquitoes like that in Houma!”
Mosquitos weren’t the only challenges they faced during filming. Guess what oil well in the Gulf of Mexico exploded during day-one of production! Considering the storyline of the movie, I wondered what effect the timing of the BP oil spill disaster would have on the production.
“It definitely felt like life imitating art. It was eery,” Behn explains. “We didn’t want to make a political movie or anything that was about the science of (Hurricane Katrina) or a call to action, but more of an emotional experience of living through an environmental catastrophe.”
And there it was. Right on cue.
Benh has been friends with his co-writer, the aforementioned Lucy Alibar, since they were 13 years old, so their decision to collaborate was an easy one. For this project, they decided to combine elements of Lucy’s imaginative, Southern gothic play, Juicy and Delicious, which is based on her own struggle to come to terms with her father’s declining health, with Behn’s short film, Glory at Sea, which is about a mysterious man who gets people to build a boat using Hurricane Katrina wreckage to rescue loved ones lost at sea. To gain a little insight during the writing process, they moved into a Terrebonne Parish fishing village to observe the language and the general vibe of the locals.
Lucy is a sunny, thoughtful young woman who uses her whole body to speak. When describing her experience in Louisiana, she gets a distant look in her eyes and seems to channel the tides, making wide, fluid motions with her arms. “I had never been to Louisiana before, but it felt like home,“ she admits. Then, she sums up the locals’ style of communication thusly, “They give you the whole world when you ask a simple question.”
Behn conveys a similarly esoteric, feel-don’t-think approach when describing the production. “We cast as we wrote, and we kind of let actors rewrite their roles. We tried to let places and people that are in the film breathe and speak for themselves, and not bring in preconceived notions. We were just trying to… stay back and not force any ideas.”
In speaking with both Benh and Lucy, you can’t help but recognize the heartfelt fondness they feel for this region. Benh has made New Orleans’ Bywater neighborhood his permanent home, while Lucy admits that she’s never felt like a true New Yorker, and she wants to move to New Orleans, as well. I wondered how two writers from New York could connect so quickly and deeply with South Louisiana, then I discovered, they both have roots in the South. Behn’s mom is from South Carolina, while Lucy is originally from South Georgia.
Ah, therein lies the basis for the connection. South Louisiana is like the foreign-born cousin to the Deep South. It’s definitely its own country, but with some decidedly familial Southern threads.
As unique and somewhat odd as it is, Beasts of the Southern Wild probably won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but those who get it, will really appreciate the affection with which this film was made. It taps into and conveys the indescribably energy that locals are born with, and so many of us transplants are so excited to discover.
Beasts of the Southern Wild opens at The Theatres at Canal Place and Prytania Theater on July 4.
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