The artist Grayson Perry once said that his favourite artwork is the one that exists in his mind. As soon as it starts to take shape in the real world, it loses that imagined perfection, as it’s hauled through the inevitable compromises that underpin any artistic process.
I’ve always been interested in people’s relationship with their creative work, and how, if at all, that changes over time. So it was fascinating to hear Ruth Grimberg reflect on her 2017 film Learning to Swim, which, for various reasons, she doesn’t actually like very much.
Commissioned as part of a BBC follow-up to a 1942 film, Listening to Britain, Ruth’s contribution was tricky from the start. Her original idea of filming a refugee welcome picnic in Norfolk fell apart when the police cancelled the event.
Scrambling for an alternative, she came across Refugees at Home, a charity that places refugees into host families. Through their network she met Ahmed, who’d fled from Syria to escape the intense fighting around Aleppo, and Ingrid, a Dutch woman living in Surrey who took him in.
I like the film – the tranquil, leafy setting creates an almost eerie calmness, and at its heart, it’s a story about kindness and people trying to help in situations that feel helpless. But Ruth, as you’ll see below, is much more conflicted.
I spoke with Ruth overZoom from her home in London. You can see more of her work on her website.
Why did you want to tell this story?
I think part of the story was how do you cope when you feel that your voice isn't being heard? I'm an immigrant myself, and it does inform how I feel about things, that sense of who belongs, and who doesn't belong, and who gets to say who belongs.
Compassion has to be at the heart of the way we look at these crises, and I felt that we weren't being compassionate.
The headline stories of babies being washed up on beaches became just headlines, which were then passed over. By the time I was filming, it was already out of the news.
I was very keen on picking somewhere very comfortable, not really threatened by anything. And yet that sense of threat was so pervasive in people's minds.
When I wrote the proposal, I wrote lots about privet hedges and net curtains, and I think I tried really hard to get that into the landscape of the footage.
What was the biggest challenge?
The film was shot so quickly – something like three months from the proposal to the final delivery.
My normal technique would be to interview somebody and then hope that I don't need to use it. That I would be able to do enough observational filming, and capture enough expository material, that I can tell the story without any interview material.
That’s how I did Across Still Water. I had a huge amount of time with the family before I started filming for that.
I had one half an hour meeting with Ingrid. And then with Ahmed, I filmed him the day I met him. So there was no development of a relationship. There wasn’t enough time. I got the commission and I started filming almost straight away – I think maybe we had six or seven shoots.
That's not the best way to work, and I think it shows in the film. I was trying to get the exposition, and if you’re not able to do that over a long period of time, you have to find another way to do it. So I’d say, “Can I come and film you in your kitchen with your son? Can I film you having dinner?”
The interview with Ahmed was three hours. He talked about how afraid he was of crossing the sea, what a terrifying experience it was, and I don't think I really conveyed that. I think it's hinted at, but I feel it's too surface. So much of his ordeal is missed out.
I think that's partly because when you're making a documentary, you’re obligated to create a narrative. Audiences expect a narrative structure.
And I think that important details were lost in the imperative to tell a story. My sense of obligation to both Ingrid and Ahmed was deeply challenged by the final film.
What would you do differently?
Oh, hundreds of things. I worry the film is too gentle.
There was an election happening which I had wanted to include – politicians campaigning with this very anti-immigrant rhetoric. But both the BBC and the production company felt it would date the film too much.
I wish I hadn't paid attention, because I think actually that's part of the story. I think context was lost.
What are you most proud of?
The scene that I liked the most, which was the most challenging to film, was when Ahmed goes for a swim.
I had filmed them having dinner in the garden, and the next thing Ahmed is coming down the stairs with a towel over his arm in a swimming costume. I thought, oh my God, I'm going to film that.
But my sound person, I didn't know at the time, was sitting in the car waiting for me. So I was just filming it using the mic on top of the camera. I didn't even have a tripod.
I really did it on the hoof, but for me, that was the most successful sequence. I don't even think that for a while they realised I was filming, because I was filming from a bedroom window upstairs.
I thought it was very revealing of their relationship and the tenderness, the real tenderness of this young boy, who was 14 or 15. It felt like a really genuine moment of kindness, but I was conscious that it wasn't filmed very well. So there's a bit of tension there for me.
How did making this film change you?
This film happened at quite a critical time for me. I finished the edit, delivered it to the production company, and two days later, my dad went into a coma. He died 12 days later. Then somebody else in my family was very seriously ill.
I can't separate that film from that moment in time. It puts filmmaking into perspective when those things happen, and it’s how you prioritise.
I stopped making films for maybe five years. I carried on teaching, but I stopped making films completely and I focused on just being very steady with the responsibilities that I had.
It made me not want to make another film like that. The production company and the BBC were incredibly supportive. It was an amazing opportunity, but it was a tiny amount of money.
I think it was £4,000, which meant I did my best to pay everybody who was involved, but neither the producer, Katherine Round, nor I were paid.
And I was doing too many things, so the film suffers. I didn't have the skill set to do all of the things that I was doing. I'm very keen to work more collaboratively now, because that hasn't always been possible before.
Thanks to Ruth, and to you for reading. In case you’re interested, I also run a weekly newsletter featuring the best videos made by and for organisations. From slick and stylish ads to unhinged social catnip. You can check it out here.