‘Take Me Home’ Director Liz Sargeant on a New Kind of Disability Storytelling – The Hollywood Reporter

Anna Sargent (left) and Gina Yee
In Take Me Home

Courtesy photo

When I set out to make my short film take me homeI wanted to ask questions about our responsibilities to family as we grow older. The film depicts a frightening moment of transition for families with a loved one who cannot live alone: ​​What is the legacy? How can we overcome the obstacles of the American health care system when we live on the margins of life?

I grew up as the middle child at 11 years old. My adoptive parents had four biological children, and then adopted seven more—six of them Korean, and several of them with disabilities. We grew up in one of John Hughes’ great suburbs of America on a picturesque street. Our family emerged whether we liked it or not. But inside the home, adoption and disability were the norm. Everyone was the same, because everyone was different.

In this fast-paced, competitive world, I often think about my younger sister, Anna, who has a cognitive developmental disability, and how the world was not made for her. When Anna was born weighing 2 pounds, her doctors didn’t think she would survive, so they didn’t do anything for her. She developed a cyst in her frontal lobe, which left her with little short-term memory. But there is an immeasurable depth of lived experience behind her eyes.

Filmmaking is where I have the conversations I’m afraid to have in real life — the terrifying unknown.

take me home The film revolves around two sisters – one disabled, one not – as they have to work through their relationship after the death of their mother. Originally, it focused on the struggles of the able-bodied sister: a heroic sister with a big heart and a vision. But the scenario devolved into familiar Hollywood clichés, until I realized that the disabled brother’s perspective was the untold story. Because the film is written in my sister’s voice, with the words, phrases, and interactions she witnessed, I couldn’t imagine anyone other than Anna acting in the project.

But how do you make a film set accessible to someone who thinks differently? In most film productions, the script is broken down into millions of small scenes and shot sloppily. Preparation can take more time than the actors are given to work on the performance. My background in modern dance and experimental theater taught me how to have fluid processes, to allow the viewer to breathe and find the story through body and reactions.

There was care in every choice we made. The filming location was Anna’s actual house, where she lives with my parents. My mother plays a version of herself. She has grown older and become disabled, and the film also revolves around her health conditions. We leaned into our actors’ needs to let them shine and used those challenges to lead the way. My husband, Minos Pappas, is also my producer and director. The intimate and lyrical portrayal of Minos was self-evident, because he understands Anna. My sister Molly was an associate producer. Because we are Anna’s co-guardians, we were attuned to Anna’s challenges and strengths.

The sets can be complete chaos, but Anna was comfortable the entire time
Because the crew was the same size as our childhood family. At the end, Anna would call me “cut” and tell me what to do. My biggest challenge was knowing when to protect my sister and when to trust her to figure it out for herself. As the youngest of 11 siblings and now living with her elderly parents, Anna is constantly finishing her sentences and assignments – a “useful” detriment. But on set, Anna was engaged, enthusiastic and excited that the crew was working with her and she could feel like a leader.

In the film, Anna must find a way to express her independence while her sister repairs her house. But Anna is neither a plot device nor a supporting character; The audience is forced to listen to the distance between Anna’s unique way of speaking. We don’t define her disability in the film; Rather, we force the audience to lean on her and listen to her, to take into account her psychological state. The music was created to amplify Anna’s unique way of thinking: it is rhythmically irregular, sparse yet clear, and keeps the notes “out of place.” We do not object to it – we are with it.

take me home It sparks conversation about the ethical dilemmas of caregiving, but it’s really about ability in the midst of disability. Without changing Anna’s cognitive disability, we show that she is the smartest person in the room.

We grew up in an affluent suburb, but my parents gave everything they had to their children and now live on Social Security, barely making ends meet. Filmmaking is difficult without connections or trust funds, and this kind of creative choice doesn’t always have the support of the big studios, who may see the challenges as risks. take me home It was poetically based on luck and love. Asian women like executive producers Julia S. Jo, Janet Yang, the Women’s Team of the Alliance for Asian Pacific Entertainment (CAPE), Jin Shin Park, Jun Baeha, and Cindy Y. Hwang, as well as Jenny Millheiser, have come this way. maybe. They saw the potential for this film to influence the worlds of entertainment, education, and perhaps even influence politics.

People call sometimes take me home A hybrid of documentary narrative, but this insults Anna’s company as an actress – she knows truth from pretense. Seeing Anna partying on the big screen as a 3D human was the most fun thing I’ve ever experienced. People fall in love with Anna, they are curious about her, and they sympathize with her. And if you love her, you will fight for her.

This story first appeared in the November standalone issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.