The NS Interview: Cary Fukunaga

The director of <em>Jane Eyre</em> talks about political films, immigration and student loans.

Your 12-minute film Victoria Para Chino deals with a public matter, whereas Jane Eyre is very private. What was your impetus behind the short?

I wanted the audience to experience what it was like to be an immigrant. So rather than getting one character they can identify with, and just as a ride. The initial idea was no visual and just to do it with sound and make the entire cinema itself the container.

So it's implicitly political?

I think anything's going to be political when you're showing tragedy like that. There's got to be a message in there. For the audiences of the short film -basically the American bourgeois - it's easy to watch a documentary and from a distance talk about these things that are politicised, but nothing to experience it.

Your films take a neorealist approach. Is this the most powerful kind of cinema?

I think it's always action/reaction. My generation of filmmakers is reacting to cinema, especially the more popular cinema, which forces emotions. Oftentimes the best poetry is so exciting because you can fill in the blanks: it's the same with cinema. If you do something in a way that allows people to fall into the story and never be aware they're falling into it, you can have a much more successful emotional experience. It's a seamlessness that's very difficult to achieve.

Do you write in other ways?

I wrote in high school because I was trying to tell some stories and would have emotions surrounding them, but I wasn't aware of prose until I started reading classic books and studied French.

What's different in that language?

In French culture people would say "that's an ugly sentence", and try and find a better version of it. There's a real weight on the aesthetic of the sentence itself. I always think of my Japanese heritage, how understated that family is and the way things are communicated. There's "understood", and in French there's sous-entendu: "under-understood".

Sin Nombre and the short were made during the Bush years. How has the US-Mexico border changed under Obama?

It hasn't, really. If anything, the border's much tougher, especially now with the drug wars. Calderon is the person who made it incredibly violent, and he's basically [Vicente] Fox's successor, who was Bush's best friend.

Bush told Americans strengthening the border would make them safer.

I think a lot of it is about selling it to the constituents. Xenophobia is not a new thing. It has existed since the beginning of America. Mitt Romney in Massachusetts having the policy that they can just pull over anyone and ask for papers and deport them - is saying, "Look, we're protecting you".Increasing patrol and building the walls doesn't stop the flow of immigration. The economy does. No amount of frontier patrol is going to stop that. It just becomes more deadly.

Slumdog Millionaire was criticised for its use of child actors. Sin Nombre used several amateurs. Does the director have a financial responsibility to their actors?

I don't think so. Edgar [Flores], who plays the lead role, got more money than he ever thought he could have in his life. Because he was over 18 we set up a fund and got him acting grants. But then, no matter how much I said "save your money", Edgar ended up wasting it. He spent it all. It wasn't that much, but he couldn't take advantage of his acting career because he got a girl pregnant, and was stuck in Honduras. In that case, I'm not responsible for them for their whole lives.

How does your Jane Eyre differ from Charlotte Bronte's novel?

I downplayed the religious side and the racism. [The Rivers-as-cousins element] used coincidence too lightly. I think it's a trope of that kind of literature, and it's not a strong piece of writing. To include that is to weaken the film. What ends up becoming the emotional core is Jane's relationship with Rochester. [Bronte] spends the last third of the book on St. John Rivers, and you think, "why am I wasting my time with this?"... I skipped that part of the novel.

You received a lot of grants at film school. You can't miss all the paperwork that entailed.

The hustle is still there. I work for Focus Features - these ain't the old days! I've been sleeping on couches all summer. That's the funny thing about being a director: you can be flown business class, be driven around by a private driver, and you go back to your normal life where you ride the tube and you sleep on friends' couches because you don't have a place to stay in this town. I have student loans, lots of them.

Do you vote?

Yeah. I waver between cynicism and idealism.

Is there anything you'd like to forget?

Maybe the feeling of first experiences - so that every time it's experience, experienced again for the first time.

Are we all doomed?

No, I believe in a resilience within the most damaged populations.

 

Defining moments

1977 Born in California to a Japanese father and Swedish mother
1999 Graduates from University of California, Santa Cruz with a B.A. in History
2004 Writes and directs short film Victoria Para Chino for a student competition whilst attending NYU Graduate Film programme, winning a Student Academy Award. Makes a commercial for Levi's
2009 Spanish-language debut film about the Mexican Mara Salvatrucha gang, Sin Nombre, premiers, gaining a Sundance award for directing
2011 Re-make of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre released globally. Signs up to direct sci-fi film, Spaceless

Alice Gribbin is a Teaching-Writing Fellow at the Iowa Writers' Workshop. She was formerly the editorial assistant at the New Statesman.

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Why does food taste better when we Instagram it?

Delay leads to increased pleasure when you set up a perfect shot of your dinner.

Been on holiday? Take any snaps? Of course you did – but if you’re anything like me, your friends and family didn’t make it into many of them. Frankly, I can only hope that Mr Whippy and I will still be mates in sixty years, because I’m going to have an awful lot of pictures of him to look back on.

Once a decidedly niche pursuit, photographing food is now almost as popular as eating it, and if you thought that the habit was annoying at home, it is even worse when it intrudes on the sacred peace of a holiday. Buy an ice cream and you’ll find yourself alone with a cone as your companion rushes across a four-lane highway to capture his or hers against the azure sea. Reach for a chip before the bowl has been immortalised on social media and get your hand smacked for your trouble.

It’s a trend that sucks the joy out of every meal – unless, that is, you’re the one behind the camera. A new study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology suggests that taking pictures of food enhances our pleasure in it. Diners at the food court of a farmers’ market in Philadelphia were asked either to photograph their meal or to eat “as you normally would”, then were questioned about how they found it. Those in the photography group reported that not only did they enjoy their meal more, but they were “significantly more immersed in the experience” of eating it.

This backs up evidence from previous studies, including one from this year in the Journal of Consumer Marketing, which found that participants who had been asked to photograph a red velvet cake – that bleeding behemoth of American overindulgence – later rated it as significantly tastier than those who had not.

Interestingly, taking a picture of a fruit salad had no effect on its perceived charms, but “when descriptive social norms regarding healthy eating [were] made salient”, photographing these healthier foods did lead to greater enjoyment. In other words, if you see lots of glossy, beautifully lit pictures of chia seed pudding on social media, you are more likely to believe that it’s edible, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
This may seem puzzling. After all, surely anything tastes better fresh from the kitchen rather than a protracted glamour shoot – runny yolks carefully split to capture that golden ooze, strips of bacon arranged just so atop plump hemispheres of avocado, pillowy burger buns posed to give a glimpse of meat beneath. It is hardly surprising that 95 million posts on Instagram, the photo-sharing site, proudly bear the hashtag #foodporn.

However, it is this delay that is apparently responsible for the increase in pleasure: the act of rearranging that parsley garnish, or moving the plate closer to the light, increases our anticipation of what we are about to eat, forcing us to consider how delicious it looks even as we forbid ourselves to take a bite until the perfect shot is in the bag. You could no doubt achieve the same heightened sense of satisfaction by saying grace before tucking in, but you would lose the gratification that comes from imagining other people ogling your grilled Ibizan sardines as they tuck in to an egg mayonnaise at their desk.

Bear in mind, though, that the food that is most successful on Instagram often has a freakish quality – lurid, rainbow-coloured bagel-croissant hybrids that look like something out of Frankenstein’s bakery are particularly popular at the moment – which may lead to some unwise menu choices in pursuit of online acclaim.

On the plus side, if a diet of giant burgers and salted-caramel lattes leaves you feeling queasy, take heart: if there is one thing that social media likes more than #avotoast, it is embarrassing oversharing. After a week of sickening ice-cream shots, a sickbed selfie is guaranteed to cheer up the rest of us. 

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser