As a kid, I’d save up things to worry about after school. Throughout the day I’d file away slights (real or perceived), misunderstandings, regrets and concerns.
Then at home, after homework was finished and dinner cleared away, I’d find a quiet space to unpack my box of anxieties and give them proper attention.
It sounds bizarre written down, but I think in some ways it worked. Surveyed hours later, I could dismiss many of them as clearly insignificant. Others still felt uncomfortable, needed more consideration.
I thought I’d left this behaviour behind, but that’s how I dealt with Covid. I have in no way processed what that time was, or meant, or led to. I filed it away, waiting for some moment where I can get into it properly, but I can’t imagine what that moment might be.
I realised this after watching Kate Villevoye’s 12:15 (2020). Every day during London’s Covid lockdown, Kate would meet on Zoom with her friend, the 86-year-old artist and comedian Lynn Ruth Miller.
Their interactions are clearly shaped by Covid but their conversations spiral into expansive reflections on much bigger topics – old age, creativity, love and desire.
Lynn died in 2021, adding an extra poignancy to the film. But in its joyful six minutes, it perhaps hints at some of the answers to the questions I (we?) have about Covid.
It was hard. Its full impact is probably not yet apparent. But we coped, each in our own way. And that’s pretty fucking magic.
I spoke with Kate over Zoom from her home in Hanoi. You can see more of her work on her website.
Why did you want to tell this story?
It all started with a stand-up comedy night where I saw Lynn perform. After that I found her email, and we worked on a few editorial projects together, but we also became friends.
She was so outgoing and extroverted, and she redefined the term coming-of-age. She was a writer all her life, living in San Francisco. Then at the age of 70, she tried her hand at comedy and moved to London for that.
We started hanging out, and then Covid hit. I had just gone freelance myself, and we agreed to meet every day on Zoom at 12:15pm, during the toughest months.
I was excited about the idea of two women, from very different generations, coming together and communicating our experiences of lockdown.
For a long time, I was trying not to have any expectations. I was just trusting the fact that we're having such a good time making it. And it's always the way – if it's been a fun filmmaking process, it often shows in the edit.
This film was definitely the coming together of two people who were still looking to create something during that time.
Lockdown was really hard for her. I know that she was struggling, but also so was I. This project was for, and about, her as much as I needed it, I think. Filmmaking is a very cathartic process sometimes, especially documentary.
What was the biggest challenge?
The Zoom thing wasn’t a big deal. I personally prefer to have limitations to work within and I really enjoyed the parameters that Covid gave me. I found a lot of creativity having those two boxes to work in – that's her space, that's my space, and we’re trying to connect.
I would actually say the hardest challenge was putting myself in the film. I made a version that just featured Lynn and I sent it to my friend, Michael Barth, who's a great filmmaker and a collaborator.
He said, “I love this, but you need to put yourself in this more. This isn't just about Lynn, this is about your friendship. It’s about you as well.”
As soon as he said that, I knew exactly what needed to go in there. That was the biggest challenge, but it also turned out to be the thing that makes the film its strongest, I think.
Is there anything you'd do differently if you were to make the film again?
I watched it back this morning because I hadn't seen it in a while. I found myself re-engaging with all these moments, being like, oh yeah, this was really nice.
There are just a few moments where my first thought was, Kate, I wish you had remembered this was going somewhere permanently. Like maybe dress the part a bit more. But that was also the nature of the project. It was lockdown – we were all in our pyjamas, right?
I think there are a few shots that I've included that I don't like anymore, actually all the shots of the world outside, like people working out. I remember trying to document a bit of the Covid world, to bring that in as context. And now I'm like, that's not necessary.
What are you most proud of?
Despite being shot on Zoom, within the very clear parameters of Covid, the film still speaks to very timeless themes around old age. That can seem like an unsexy topic, but it's the most unifying human experience that we will all go through. And it has so many stigmas attached to it.
Covid put Lynn in this pressure cooker – she was like, wait, no, I have all these things I need to do. Don't take this away from me. It brought more urgency to her as a person.
I love that the film has immortalised Lynn in a certain time in her life. I think that's what brought me to documentary in the first place.
As a kid, I loved cameras, but I wasn't that interested in the whole cinematic experience. I had loads of diaries and I was making radio shows. I would do whatever I could to capture reality before it slipped away.
This was a fun project where I could really tap into the initial reason why I became a filmmaker. Lynn is not here any more, and however cliché it may sound, she can live on in this film.
People can come to it and still be inspired by her, because when you watch the film, she’s right there.
How did making this film change you?
The biggest lesson that I've learned is that if you can put yourself in your film as a filmmaker, do it.
I think it's very useful for the viewer to know who the filmmaker is. Sometimes I struggle with documentary because I don't quite know who's made it. Who is this person that's come into this sometimes very intimate space and is altering the story in some way, or at least having some effect on it?
I don't think it's for every story – I just think it's a really interesting space. I'm very excited to take on more projects that have an Agnès Varda energy to them.
Thanks so much to Kate and you for reading. I’m currently thinking about the future of this newsletter and what form it should take moving forward.
So if you have any ideas, feedback or thoughts, please shoot me a message.