Slant Magazine

Slant: Wendy and Lucy also reminded me of The Death of Mr. Lazarescu a little. Did you see that?

KR: No, what's that?

Slant: A Romanian film from a couple of years ago about an old man who has a medical crisis and goes on a Stygian, late-night ambulance ride from hospital to hospital, but no one will admit him.

KR: No, no. That sounds pretty great.

Slant: Do you think America has a rich tradition of films with economic engines?

KR: Well, I'm pretty guilty of not seeing a lot of the new American films. I'm pretty bad, I've gotta say. I tend to look elsewhere. Why, I don't know. There are times in America where I look at American films—the '40s, and I love the '70s and the '30s. There are certainly many films from the '60s, but not all the campy stuff. I don't get too into that. Unless I'm on a plane, then I catch up with Hollywood on a really small screen, which is unfair. There are a lot of new, exciting [films]. A lot of the Iranian films. If you go to the festivals you can see films coming from other places.

Slant: I don't know if you view your own work through a political filter, but you do allow these little bursts of overt progressivism to punch through, like the Air America snippets in Old Joy and the Karl Rove Jr. kid in Wendy and Lucy.

KR: I'm interested in making personal films and to me every film is political. There's political in the personal. A lot of it has to do with Jon Raymond, my writing partner. I got turned on to him through Todd Haynes, who has produced these films. I read his novel and he has this way of writing where you're reading about friendship and then it only occurs to you afterward that this is about everything. It's about right now, this period of time, this moment. It has this ripple effect and it has a lot of room for you, as you're reading, to bring your own life experience, your own point of view to it. So with Wendy and Lucy we start out with this idea that the film's going to be about economics, about this time in America, but then that has to hopefully go away and it becomes about this girl Wendy, about these characters, and we never really focus on it again. I focus on it when I'm picking a place to shoot. Those decisions add texture to the themes, but certainly Michelle and I never had a conversation about the politics of whatever. It was all about Wendy and what would Wendy do, and hopefully all of that stuff gets pushed away. It either transcends or it doesn't.

Slant: What's an ideal political film for you?

KR: For me, an ideal political film would be a film like Shampoo or McCabe and Mrs. Miller. For me, those are very character-driven films.

Slant: You've talked before about wanting to continue working at these sensationally low-budget levels. Isn't that something filmmakers tend to say and then disregard once they meet with a certain level of success?

KR: Well, what's your definition of success? I find that to be a fucking annoying question, I have to say.

Slant: Why is that?

KR: This constant implication that success has one picture is so limited—and talk about American! I'm constantly asked this, as if teaching is some loser profession, or an uninteresting place to be. I've been out in L.A. for five days with my film, just doing stuff that I've never done before, press junkets and stuff, and I'm like—this is it? This is what everybody thinks is the most special fucking thing on the planet? Are you kidding me? It melts your brain. It's really hard to stay small, actually. That I've been able to make these last two films without anybody paying any fucking attention and just go off and have complete artistic freedom—what are you gonna trade that for? What do you consider success, since you're asking me that question?

Slant: I think I was just suggesting that if you were to raise more, you'd probably spend it wisely. There's no discernable difference between the scale of your films and a Woody Allen film, but he can spend 20 million and the money buys access to more filmmaking tools and sought-after actors and so forth.

KR: Give me an example of a woman who can do that.

Slant: A woman who can insist on creative control and still raise 20 million?

KR: Yes.

Slant: I can't name any, but I have a reason why I can't.

KR: I have a reason too—there aren't any! Okay, forget about 20 million. Name a woman at the level of Gus Van Sant or Todd Haynes. Give me a female example of that.

Slant: Allison Anders. In 1996. I can't think of any on the spot, but in that category I know there are some.

KR: And she wasn't getting 20 million, by the way. She was living off a grant. Please. The idea that we're struggling to think of one that might have existed at some point—maybe that's why that question pisses me off. I'll also say that I can't think of a woman who has this benefit either: Lars von Trier and Terrence Malick can put out films and not have to go out and talk about them. If I want to think about what real success would be, it would be to be able to make a film without anyone breathing down my back and then not have to go out and talk about the film after you've gone to great lengths in your film to not over-explain everything. To not have to go out, that would be true success, but then you're just screwing over your distributor or your investors.

Slant: If you feel that strongly, wouldn't they have settled for just having Michelle go do a few rounds?

KR: Michelle's not going to spend a year of her life. I mean, she's doing what she can do. But who wants to do it? No one wants to do it, to be honest. But on success, I really would like to know—I get asked that question all the time. What is it that you're asking about?