5 Questions for Sanford Jenkins Jr.
A contemplative drama about mortality, “A Craftsman,” finds its lead character overcome with grief, on the verge of a drastic response. We asked director, Sanford Jenkins Jr., how the project began, the tricky tonal balance, and working with his cast…
1) Can you talk a bit about the genesis of the project? What was the original seed, and how did it get rolling?
The original seed came from Joel David Santner, writer of A Craftsman and classmate at USC. Joel, on his own time, wrote iterations of a short story about the emotionality of a man who was versions of his father (and others who affected Joel), eventually materializing as the woodworker in A Craftsman. Joel and I met during the pitching process for 546, USC’s flagship course at the time; I read a version of the script and, with producer Cydney Fisher, located emotions we could imagine pictorially/sonically and articulate to the selection committee (who would choose 3 films for the program to produce that semester). I thought about my family in Philadelphia, and their ways of expression, and channeled this. Joel and Cyd had their ways. And whatever came across in the room worked out.
2) There’s a nice balance of dark and light in your film. I’m wondering how you found the tone. Did it end up feeling the way you conceived it, or was there something new found in working with your actors? I didn’t expect to find the moments of humor in there based on the synopsis.
I still don’t understand how people respond to the film – it’s beautiful. Some screenings have been immensely quiet, intense; others have been hysterical – depends on the environment. The complexity of tone started in the script and was delicate through post. We were testing each week of dailies for truth (with diminishing returns) and eventually screened cuts in people’s houses with no attachment to us for feedback.
If there was one thing I believed, it was that if I gave the actors space to exist on the farm; to work in relation to one another and the rural environment; and move as freely as possible; and if our crew worked with these same instincts, guided by a foundation set before production, that truths would show and the tone would be embedded in these relationships (and considering this was a collaborative film course, it could tell us something about our working process). Choosing collaborators became especially vital, because I had to lean on everyone to balance.
3) Speaking of the cast, how did you find your two leads? What was the process working with them, rehearsals? Any room for ad-lib / improv or fully scripted?
Our three actors were brought in by casting director Kara Sullivan. I mostly wanted to find three people who felt like family, and after two days of auditions it was clear these were my aunts and uncles. The dialogue was scripted but rewritten through rehearsals (there weren’t many). Rehearsals were done with each actor separately, and briefly together, to figure out how everyone moved and processed information, so I could articulate thoughts on set - I prefer to do most work on set in relation to space, where instinct replaces intellect. On set, I mostly listened and observed, communicating when something didn’t feel emotionally real (which doesn’t always equate to the physical).
4) It’s beautifully shot. Can you discuss your visual approach, and the collaboration between you and your DP’s?
The academic course required two cinematographers, who would assume and rotate the roles of camera operator and gaffer per the weekly arrangements we made. Tanmay, Maddie, and I were kindred spirits when it came to compositional thoughts; through winter prep, we studied many artists working with bodies, space and atmosphere, watching materials and sharing ideas through a drive. With a USC-provided Sony F5, we eventually chose a vintage Angénieux zoom lens and a 1.33:1 format as parameters to focus our work. And also chose to operate from darkness into the light, which had a more complex emotional range.
Each production week, we met before filming to discuss capture possibilities relative to space and time we had, and worked instinctually on set per my rehearsals with the actors. I’d been reading Tarkovsky’s Sculpting In Time, which had a major impact then; it became imperative for us to throw out any intellectual notions or copies, and trust that the visual form would reveal itself through the intentionality in our foundation.
5) What’s next for you?
I’m writing narratives in Northern California, in the cities and on the coast and countryside. It has proved one of the most visceral, emotional spaces. I’m doing the internal work, addressing questions of my time (and enjoying life where I can).
Bonus question: What’s a movie(s) you’ve seen recently, new or old, that you were really affected by, and in what ways?
I’ve been watching films through MUBI until Criterion’s service is fully active, and recently found Naomi Kawase’s Still The Water (Japan, 2014). Thinking of A Craftsman, Kawase’s film is the cinema of emotionality, for Kawase and the island of Amami Ōshima, relative to the sky the characters constantly look out to. I’m still thinking about the water, here across the Pacific.
Contact info:
Email: sj@sanfordjenkins.com
IG: @sanfordjenkinsjr