Henry O'Brien
Darlene Naponse wanted to stay home. The Canadian director didn’t want to go very far to film her next project, so she decided to focus her documentary, Aki, on Atikameksheng Anishnawbek, an Ojibwe Anishinaabe community in northern Ontario, about five hours north of Toronto.
The film, which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival last week, features very little dialogue and no direct interviews with anyone in the community. Rather, the minimalism focuses on the beauty that resides in Atikameksheng Anishnawbek and the increasing industrialism that surrounds the area.
Naponse recently spoke with Film Obsessive staff writer Henry O’Brien about the production, style and themes of Aki. The transcript below the video has been edited for space and clarity.
Thank you so much again for doing this. First off, I just want to know where the inspiration for this project comes from?
Yeah, no. I wanted to make a documentary on my community, Atikameksheng Anishnawbek. We are in an Ojibwe Anishinaabe community in northern Ontario, and I wanted to just really talk about our history and our past. And then I realized I didn’t want to do it in English. I don’t speak fluent Anishinaabe Ojibwe. It was taken away from our families. And yeah, so I started there, and I was like, ‘What do I know how to do? I know how to create an image.’ And so that’s how the story started.
How far up in Ontario is it?
Five hours north of here.
Do you find that you are comfortable shooting your environment in the sense that you know the spots around the town and whatnot?
Definitely. I was born and raised in my community, on my reserve. And so I was shooting those places that I knew all of my life. And as a filmmaker, I chose to travel and do a lot of things and I chose to stay in my community and to make films from the community.
The first few shots were of nature and whatnot. Then it gets to hockey, and children around the community are playing. What importance does hockey have for young kids and everyone around the community?
So we start in the winter, because that’s when we tell stories. And we wanted to start with the first people we see (being) the youth. And everybody’s born and raised playing, playing hockey, having skates on, being outside. The kids are always outside in that outdoor rink. They call it the ODR and they’re always out there. It’s important. Play is so big for these children that you see (in the film). You see them watching, playing basketball, playing baseball. And so yeah, it’s beautiful to start there.
Do you find depicting the youth is like an important part of that resistance (against industrial outsiders) in a way?
Oh, totally. And it’s saying that we survived, and we keep surviving, and we keep resisting, and we keep our sovereignty. And those children, those are the faces and the voices and the power of our future.
This is more of a comment. But I was at Lucrecia Martel Landmarks (Nuestra Tierra), and anytime there was dialogue, it was pretty sparse on dialogue as well, but anytime there was dialogue, it was very hostile towards indigenous communities. The images did the speaking in that regard. And do you feel like that was kind of what you were going for?
It’s so important (for) this piece that we stayed where we were. We didn’t go shouting…It’s very political. It’s really talking about all of these things, but finding a different way to say it. And I think because for the longest time, as an indigenous filmmaker, we screamed and we shouted and we did these things. And so I wanted to take another approach of really looking at those issues, of looking at the history of mining in our communities, that environmental and also that financial (aspect). I wanted to be able to also look at addictions, and you see it. And so we were talking about all of these things, but I wanted to approach it in a way that allowed them to tell their story in some ways, too. Every time you put a camera in front of somebody, you’re taking something, you’re changing it, right? So we tried not to change it. So whatever was happening on the day we shot (we shot it). So I knew all of these things that were happening, but we didn’t push it where we didn’t change the frame or anything. So if something was there that we’re like, ‘Oh, I don’t like the jacket he’s wearing,’ or something. But no, they kept it.
The title cards (for the film) were the seasons. How important is each season to you, and how important is each season in your community?
Well, yeah, we live by our seasons, and they’re changing right now. When we’d be hunting, and now everything feels like it’s moved a month, right? I think everywhere.
Yeah, I’m from Pennsylvania, it’s the same deal. It’s still warm in September, which I’ll savor.
Yeah.
This is the nice part of global warming, even though there are already so many more horrible parts.
I was laughing because I was trying to be minimalist in my clothing or something. I was like, ‘But we live in each season, right?’ When we say, too, when we’re living in those seasons, it was that direct kind of connection of being on the land and maple syrup, doing maple syrup, which is a huge part of our history, and the fishing and the hunting and the harvesting. So we all gear up for those things, even if it’s when it’s hockey, or baseball or hunting.
All those images, especially with maple syrup and hockey, with many people’s perception of Canada, are that that’s from a very white lens. When they think of hockey in Canada, it’s mostly white folks. How important was it for you to show like, ‘No, this is also part of indigenous Canadians here?
I think the fabric of Canada…I think we’ve become so divided. But we have to, and I was just talking about this, we have to kind of come together in an understanding. I’m not saying that, we can’t still be individuals. We can still. But we need to understand how the connection to that land and to all of these things that we do, because we’re kind of ruining it right now and we need to fix it. And I’m gonna say it in a better way, but hockey is ours too, and maple syrup is ours. That’s what our people did for hundreds of years. We used to collect and make sugar. That was what our people did. And then we would use that sugar to preserve the meats and with the berries, not as a pemmican, but in different ways. So these are the things that our people have done for centuries. And so this is just the thing we do all the time. But when we say play, play is so important. My cousin always talks about that and how it is part of that family and part of that community to play. And so the hockey, yeah, we’re all kind of born with skates on, I feel in some ways.
Most of the cinematography is either from overhead or long, smooth shots. But there was one shot that really stuck out to me. I believe it was when you cut to the snow plower, and that was really the first sign of industry in a way, with a car that’s emitting carbon into the air, and it was handheld. Was that a very specific choice to show a disruption (in nature)?
A disruption, yeah. And even our own disruption, right? I’m not saying we’re perfect. We see our dump, and we see our own disruptions and those things like that really loud plow. Yes, it’s creating a safe passage. But yeah, the disruption that’s the biggest thing is the mining. But also, we exist within this industry, right? Like the Superstack, which is an iconic image of Sudbury, Ontario. So we’ve had over 100 years of mining in our community, and we’ve never benefited very little from that. And so we’re always fighting for that, but also noting that this is a huge environmental issue. That’s an impact and (there are) miles of tailings and even garbage. But also then, noting how we live within that, how those ravens go around, that Superstack, which is that iconic site. And I think it was (about) finding my own responsibility, but being able to find that wonder and that beauty in it.
There obviously is, as you were saying, a minimalism to this entire film. But even in the minimalism, you can still feel joy and a love and appreciation for the community, which makes me wonder: how was it shooting those days when you were shooting the mining community, or those factories as well? How was it for you to photograph it?
The first time we saw it on the drone…I had snuck up one time and walked up and then saw it, and then the tailings section. But to see it in that way, it’s devastating; to really know that that’s my backyard and that’s been going on, and to see it in that way, and to see that drone shot, and it’s just like, ‘Whoa. This is…it’s too much.’ So those were really hard days of shooting the industry and understanding, seeing, trying to relate to it in a way. Because that’s our history, and that’s our connection, and that still exists, of course, yeah.
Was there any particular season you had a soft spot for in particular, or the one you most enjoy shooting?
The underwater, yeah, that’s what I really love doing. The underwater stuff and then those community days, the powwow and just, like, the noise, the drums and the people. I could shoot that all the time. I could just have one channel; that was my job to do that.
So would you say summer or fall is what you enjoy?
My season specifically is fall. It’s always that time I remember. That October sun on you and you’re sitting in the bush and waiting for hunting, or if we’re just walking and and it’s perfect. And there are no mosquitoes.
I hate mosquitoes so much. It’s a miracle I haven’t gotten an illness because I get bitten so much.
You know, when I was a kid, it didn’t bother me. But this year, when I got bit, I was like, ‘Woah!’
Was it like with the cellist Juno? How did you get in contact with her?
So, Cris Derkson.
Oh, sorry, Cris.
Ultimately, she’s a friend of mine, and I convinced her to do this, and I was like (gasps) ‘Oh, wow.’ Her music is so powerful and so beautiful, yeah. And it was interesting because she created music for this. And so it’s different than placing a song that already exists and then you’re cutting around it in my other features, or it’s placed in giving pacing. So she worked on that, and she created pacing, and then we went back in the edits and then allowed that. And there was this…because I knew the capacity that she had, and it’s not my history or anything, but I don’t know, this big orchestra sound is so beautiful, right? It’s cinematic. And so we really talked about that a lot, and she brought it.
Toward the back half of the film, there was a little bit of electronic music.
Yes, that’s my ex-husband. So he did all those. He did the soundtrack to Falls Around Her. But I wanted to just bring that. Always love that guitar.
What was it like just having that? I perked up when I heard it because you obviously get into the feeling of, ‘Oh, beautiful nature, beautiful orchestra.’ But that got me up. Was that kind of intentional?
Yeah, no, he’s always so good at that. But, yeah, just driving, that electric kind of rhythm.
The one thing I am still thinking about, especially, is the split-screen shots. What went into that decision?
It was first by accident, when you’re editing and you see two images pop up beside each other. And I was like, ‘Wow, it was kind of really cool.’ And it was something like that. But there was a point when I was, when we were editing, because there were so many variations we wanted to tell. We thought, ‘Oh, maybe these could tell a story like seasons, and maybe we’ll do something.’ Then there were just two still images, and then all of a sudden, they became moving images. And then so they kind of counter each other, or they become part of each other. So the snow from the snow machines, and then the animal tracks, the beautiful pines with the snow falling from them, like two same pines, but two different images and just how it’s heavier falling and light falling. So it was really playful like that. And to be able to tell extra within those images.
How do you, as a filmmaker, feel about dialogue? How do you see it as a function?
Well, it’s really interesting, because I was laughing, because I’m like, ‘I actually think I’m a really good dialogue writer. That was my thing. But I keep making films, and they (have) less and less dialogue in this one. I’m gonna go back to big, long monologues. I think it’s important, but I think a lot of exposition comes in with it. So I try to…you’re always staying away from that, right? So to really get to the bone of every word is important. And so that’s where I think dialogue is, or it’s just placed in a kind of (way where) people are just walking around. The naturalness. But I really try to stay away from the exposition.
And were there any films in particular that you were watching beforehand to inspire you in a way?
Yeah, definitely. I’m not gonna pronounce it right. Ko-ya…
Koyaanisqatsi?
Yes, Baraka. I’m a huge fan of Terrence Malick.
I could tell.
(Laughs). Yeah, I remember when I was in the cinema and he brought us to space in The Tree of Life.
On Malick, how do you feel about a film like The New World? I almost feel torn about that in a way where, because he finds the most beautiful images in that. But he is a white filmmaker coming in and doing this. But at the same time, he is capturing nature at its most beautiful.
It’s interesting, because I remember we were very excited and it was in a time when everybody was talking about how they should be filming like Martin Scorsese’s film. His perspective played both. I think he should have just stayed in the white perspective, and then it would have been more interesting and powerful. But sure, he went into that Indigenous (space). So I think the problem is that when somebody not from that community comes in, right? It’s like, ‘Oh, this is the way you’re thinking.’
