The Long Walk Director Mattie Do Raises Her Middle Fingers To The Arthouse World [Interview]

As an accidental filmmaker, when did you realize you’re a genre filmmaker?

I finished my first feature film and it went to a festival. I went to the first film festival I’ve ever been to. No, no. That’s not true. That’s a lie. I had been to a film festival before. I don’t remember the year. Whatever year that comedy “Slammin’ Salmon” was playing. There was a film called “Slammin’ Salmon.” My friend’s a professional snowboarder. She actually is one of the world’s top extreme snowboarders. I guess some of her friends worked on that film, so she was like, “Oh, let’s go to this film festival and let’s watch it.”

It was the first time I’d been to Park City, the first time I went to a film festival, and it was the strangest experience of my life. Because it kind of matched my expectation of what I thought a film festival would be, which is you sit in this conference room or ballroom in a hotel and you watch a movie and there’s conference room chairs. So, when I finished my first feature, “Chanthaly,” and it got invited to Fantastic Fest, I thought it was going to be in a high school auditorium. They were going to give us these red plastic solo cups. One with popcorn, one with gallon punch, and that they were going to roll out a TV on a stand and play my little film for maybe the 10 people who are interested in Lao films.

So, when I hit Texas and went to Fantastic Fest for the first time, I was like, “What the f*** is this?” I couldn’t believe it. People were watching movies back-to-back and then the big screen experience — it was nuts. People were so interested. They were just like, “Oh, you made this film,” and then they had the Q&A and the interviews. I had to tell myself to call myself a filmmaker because, at that time, I didn’t consider myself a filmmaker yet. My husband had always told me, “You can’t call yourself a filmmaker until you’ve made a film. Until your film has finished and it’s shown somewhere, you are not allowed to call yourself a filmmaker.” It was strange, the first time I called myself a filmmaker. It was when I was at Fantastic Fest being interviewed by Todd Graham.

Was it a good feeling saying it, though?

It was uncomfortable. I felt I was masquerading as something that I was not. Especially since so many of my colleagues there had dreamt their entire lives of being a filmmaker and had worked so hard towards it and had gone to school to specifically study it. There were a lot of conversations happening around me at the film festival where I just didn’t know what the f*** was going on. They were talking about all these famous people. 

I was meeting famous directors, actors, and producers and I had no idea who the f*** they were, Jack. I actually met the curly-haired guy from Metallica because he had some film, interactive film, there. I didn’t know who the f*** he was and I kept calling him by his wrong name. He had all these bodyguards and I stupidly turned to him, and I was like, “What’s up with all these dudes in their earpieces and suits?” He laughed at me.

I’ve met all these people. I had no idea who they were. I’ve offended some people, too. I won’t say who because you know who they are. I’m that clueless about the world of film. So yeah, it was hard for me to call myself a filmmaker initially because I didn’t fit in with them. But genre is a great place to not fit in because they’re such a warm, loving family that once they see that you don’t get what’s going on, they’re just like, “Oh, it’s cool. You don’t have to know who Fellini is. Here’s a cocktail. Have a beer.”

How were you feeling as a filmmaker after your second movie, “Dearest Sister,” then?

Oh, that was bad, because then I had festival experience. I was like, “Wow, festivals are cool. I got to get myself back to one of these and, to do that, I have to make another movie.” So I made another movie. Everybody was so proud and surprised by the trajectory from me coming out of nowhere and making these films that were really oddball. There was a lot of expectation for like, “Oh, a Lao film, a film from an unheard of country with a really exotic culture.” There was this idea that you need to get to an “A” festival. Now, the goal is like Berlin and Venice. All these big festivals. That was what I had my eyes set on. My sights were set on this because now I knew what it was. I’d gone to a few of them to develop my next film, to workshop the script, and I got the taste. I got the taste of champagne in my mouth, Jack. I was like, “That’s where I want to go next.” “Dearest Sister” didn’t make it. It didn’t get to go to Sundance. It didn’t get to go to Cannes. It didn’t get to go to Venice. I was so disappointed. I was just like, “Am I doing the right thing? Am I a filmmaker? What am I? Should I be here? Do I have a voice?”

I got really depressed initially, but my producer Annick [Mahnert] and my husband, Chris, sat me down at one point and they were just like, “Mattie, you didn’t even know that these places existed before you made it. You didn’t even know what a f***ing film festival was. You literally thought that you were going to get a cup of popcorn and a cup of soda in an auditorium with basketball hoops. You were going to watch a movie under a basketball hoop. Now you’ve got your eyes set on Cannes and Sundance and Venice? Why are you so sad about this? So you didn’t get them, but you got to go to all the genre fests that you love. All these amazing places that you had so much fun at and where you made so many new friends and so many supporters.” It was a good kick in the ass, Jack. They were right. 

When I started making “The Long Walk,” every day that we shoot, we upload and backup footage and I was sending daily footage to my producers. I was sending it to Annick, who is my mainstay. She believes in everything I do creatively. And then Todd Brown, I can’t remember what kind of producer he was on this film, but there was credit squabble. Not with him, but with another group. I was sending my footage to them every day and they were getting excited. They were like, “Oh my God, this is it. This is going to be the one that gets to the ‘A’ festival. This is beautiful. It’s going to go.”

I was pissed. I’m dying out here in the jungle, first of all. There’s no air conditioning in the jungle. We are making a movie in some rough ass conditions with like 20 people. Sh*t’s falling apart. Stuff’s happening that’s completely unexpected. We’ve got problems. Don’t talk to me about “A” festivals. I don’t even want to hear it and I don’t want to get my hopes up for this because I tasted that disappointment before and it tastes like the worst counterfeit champagne that we could ever buy. They just kept talking about it. Finally, I submitted my films and I was like, “Whatever. Whatever happens, happens, but we’ll be happy to get into the festivals that I love and that I care about.”

I was in a night market in Bangkok, with one of my dearest friends who designs all my dresses that I wear on red carpet. He asked me, “You’ve basically finished a film and I haven’t heard anything about your next event. What are you going to wear? Should I be working on something?” And I was like, “Nah. I mean, whatever you make, you can make, but don’t think of any gala gowns or anything like that because it’s not going to happen.” It starts storming and we were stuck with our cheap beers. We were drinking the sh*ttiest beers ever under this tent, all huddled. I get this email on my phone and it’s a rejection from Venice. No joke, Jack. It’s a rejection. It’s like, “You are not selected to main competition.”

I was like, “See?” And then he and our friends were just like, “Oh, let’s just drink to being together. F*** it. We finished a film. That’s all that matters.” And then, all of a sudden, my phone’s buzzing out of control. It’s buzzing, buzzing, buzzing and I was like, my husband knows I’m out getting wasted with my gay friends. He is not going to be calling me to come home unless it’s an emergency. I opened my phone and it’s my producers being like, “Check your goddamn messages.” I look at it and I got into the other section at Venice. So, I didn’t make it into competition, but I got into Venice and I freaked out. I’m screaming in the storm, in the rain, with my cheap beer. We’re all singing and dancing and crying. My friend turns to me and he’s like, “Well, b*tch, I guess I got to work on that dress.”