Film as a Language: “Guilt” (2018) and “you” (2020)
Guilt (2018) and you (2020) are similar to my previous post about Film as an Explanation, but with an extra degree of separation from myself and my art. Guilt is a short film about the subconscious thoughts of a teen, Marcus, after cheating on his girlfriend with another boy. you is a poetry film, much different than other films described in this archive, replicates the thoughts and feelings in the aftermath of a sexual assault. The format and structure of each film is vastly different, but the process in developing my filmic language was incredibly similar.
Guilt was not a film I had planned to make. Lemonhead got accepted to a film festival, but due to miscommunication between those running the festival, it had to be removed due to its use and glorification of drugs. One of the festival showrunners felt so bad about telling us this a week out from the event that they proposed we replace Lemonhead’s spot with another film. Not actually having another film, we decided to make one in the four days before the festival.
We tried to treat Guilt like another time frame challenge. However, because this would be a production that would take several days, it was more difficult to arrange with regards to scheduling. So I wrote the script, by myself, in one afternoon. I had gone through a pretty bad breakup earlier that summer and was still processing my feelings from it, so I used this as an opportunity to express some of those emotions. The original story took place on the main street in town and between two girls, but due to a lack of female actors on short notice and also not knowing if we needed a permit to shoot in a highly populated area, we changed the story to two boys with their conversation taking place in an empty park. This ended up being for the best, as it offered a sense of detachment from my personal life, but it also served as a message that I needed to articulate.
To contrast this, you was 100% intentionally created. Last semester, I took a gender studies course, which had us make a project on the subject of one of the modules and texts discussed in class. One of these modules was on the subject of sexual assault, which many people are familiar with, so I decided to create a film that was in response to some of my experiences in the past for my final project in November of 2020.
The poem alone took me weeks to create. It meant that I had to not only think about the characters in the show and the lessons I had learned in the class, but to also unlock parts of my memory that are comfortable with staying hidden. I tried to focus on the mental aspect of it all: how you can distract yourself during the day but at night, the memory can come back to haunt you and eat at your soul. It was… difficult to compose.
Everything in each aspect of the film was absolutely deliberate. From the colors, to the location of the subject, to how the light fell on said subject, to the symbolism of each image on screen, everything had a purpose greater than what was on the surface. For instance, the image of the hand holding the ice cube derived from a grounding technique wherein a significant temperature change is needed to distract one from one’s intruding thoughts. The scene in the shower, bathed in red lighting, could be seen as sexual at first, until you realize that the emotion being portrayed is actually anguish. Only one of the six glasses has colored water: a symbolic demonstration of the well known statistic that one in six women will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. I even had different friends read out the poem to represent that sexual assault can happen to anyone, regardless of gender. The film is so intricately designed from start to finish that though it started as a way to pour out my emotions, it ended up, again, untying itself from me slightly.
These two films are much more expressive of my feelings, but are crafted in such a way that it’s easier for me to digest upon rewatch. There is enough separation between me and the art that I can revisit some of those moments without shrinking into myself. There are enough details that I can point out and say “this part is not me” without devaluing its message.
But would it hit closer to the audience’s hearts if I put more of myself into the art? How would I do that, and more importantly, at what cost?
WORKS CITED:
Diaz, Gabriella. “Guilt.” Youtube, uploaded by Segal Cinematics, 9 August 2018, https://youtu.be/1QGwfpUmO6s.
Diaz, Gabriella. “you | a poetry film.” Youtube, uploaded by Gabriella Diaz, 12 December 2020, https://youtu.be/mYSu2yCKXfo.
