������

Adam Sekuler has made an artistic career of looking — literally — at people and situations from which most others turn away. An assistant professor of journalism and media production, Sekuler has directed three full-length documentaries, along with numerous short films. His first feature, "," centers on Cynthia and her partner, Shar, who, after a diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's, embarks on a conscious death. The next, "," follows a woman through a lengthy labor. Sekuler’s most recent film, “,” documents 60-something Mary Phillips’ late-life journey of sexual adventurousness and self-discovery. The film had its world premiere at the Camden International Film Festival last fall. Reviewing the film on , a viewer noted it portrays Mary and her community “as what they usually are: inspiring people who believe in radical empathy, softness, and clear, respectful communication.”

Sekuler has recently returned from screenings at the Helsinki Documentary Film Festival and the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival in Missoula, Montana. He spoke with Reporter about his films and the ways he applies his approach to filmmaking in the classroom.

“The Flamingo” and “Tomorrow Never Knows” seem to be, at their core, films about connection. Does that assessment ring true to you? 

I definitely see that in “The Flamingo” — there’s no question that theme is central to the film. And in “Tomorrow Never Knows,” there’s a profound human connection at its core. It’s about these spouses facing one of the hardest decisions any couple could ever make, yet they navigate it together, leaning on and supporting each other. That’s the heart of the film’s narrative.

More than anything, all three of my feature films explore subjects that are often considered taboo — topics people tend to avoid. My goal is to present them in a way that invites engagement, making space for empathy and humanity within stories that many would prefer to turn a blind eye to, that they just would rather not really be thinking about. I want to make people think about these subjects and help them realize that they're not frightening.

How do you develop the relationships for people to trust you enough to welcome you into often very intimate moments?

I'll start by saying, for all of the films — with the exception of the birth film, but I had a deep relationship with that person in advance — I actually start the process by not bringing a camera. And I spend time with the people before we ever start filming. So this is an opportunity for us to get to know each other in advance of the film ever starting. I think that that's an important first step, to show up without the camera.

The other interesting thing about these films is that I made a film before “Tomorrow Never Knows” about an open-air cremation ceremony in central Colorado. It's the only public funeral pyre in the United States. The people who are in “Tomorrow Never Knows” saw that movie and then their Buddhist spiritual advisor approached me and asked if I was interested in making this film because they had seen that other film. So there's that. “Tomorrow Never Knows” was seen by Mary in “The Flamingo” and she approached me about making a film — initially, she said about her community but then, in conversation with her, it turned into a film about her and her community is in the film.

Then at some point you do bring a camera into the room. What is that process like? 

Because I'm also working for a long period of time, there's a point where the camera vanishes. If you were to see the earliest images of any of these films, it would be really different, because it does take a little bit of time to socialize the camera into the space.

In “Tomorrow Never Knows,” you see somebody's last breath in that movie. So many people told me, "Don't do it," and I was like, "That's why I have to do it." But actually, what I do is I keep rolling. I don't just end there. It's not like, "Last breath, cut." It’s the last breath, and then Shar's partner comes in the room and sits down and she looks for a long time at the body, and then puts her ear to the body and then looks at the camera and says, "Is that the last one?" If I cut before that, then it's sensationalizing that moment. Instead, what follows is a space — an emotional and human space — that’s just as important as the breath itself.

How does your filmmaking process influence your teaching, particularly in relation to a new course you’ll be teaching in the fall, with support from the Ravitz Foundation, Peace Through the Lens: Arab and Jewish American Film Initiative?

I'm going to bring guests into the classroom. There will be people coming in from Jewish backgrounds, Arab backgrounds, talking about the conflict and their personal relationships to that. Especially now, we’re in social media bubbles in which the information that we're consuming is so specific. And there are truths in all of those places, right? I have a lot of Jewish friends in my life who are posting about the experiences right now of the release of all these hostages, and the parallels of that experience to the Holocaust. Absolutely true. At the same time, I have a lot of people in my life who've been posting for a year and a half now about the terrible experiences that the Palestinian people are going through and comparing that to the Holocaust. Also absolutely true. Finding a space where the students are able to see the parallels of those experiences — that is the goal.

I think the course will be very challenging, given the topic. I will be encouraging students to approach the topic curiously, that's the most important thing. Approach with curiosity and without feeling as if you know anything. You're there to learn. You're not there to come in with assumptions. It's hard to leave everything that you have experienced in your life at the door and be like, "I'm a blank slate while I'm in this experience with you, and I should be checking the things that I feel like I need to respond to and just be here. I just need to be present." That's the most important part of the process: presence, being receptive, being curious. And you know it will lead you into somewhere interesting and it will change you. It will change the assumptions you've come into, the experience with it will change that for you if you're open to it.

How do you create that space for students?

What I say to all my students is that I function in a field where there is an agreed upon grammar of thinking. But I also tell them this agreed upon grammar is evolving all the time, so there's no necessarily right way to do this. There are lots of different ways. There are millions of ways that none of us have ever thought about before. And hopefully you find the one that feels most comfortable to you, and you get into it, and you're swimming through that and evolving your own filmmaking as you go through the process. Saying "there's no right answer" is a very liberating thing for a student. But I increasingly find that students have a hard time with that because they feel like there only are right answers, and it's tough for them to realize that there aren't.

Back to “The Flamingo,” another thing that stands out is how ordinary everyone in the film is. They look like people we would see on campus.

The younger people are totally that. And then the older people are like your grandparents. That's actually the part that I'm hoping people take away on some level: You don't know what your grandmother's up to, and you don't know what's going on in your neighborhood, and you shouldn't, really. And none of this should bother you. None of it is dangerous. It’s actually beautiful and offers human connection in a way that you're not really thinking about.

###

Interview by Kristin Palm