QueerFilmReview.com interviews Cynthia Wade; the Oscar nominated director of FREEHELD, a documentary short which examines New Jersey Police Lieutenant Laurel Hester’s pioneering legal battle to shift her pension to her domestic partner, Stacie Andree, following Ms. Andree’s diagnosis of terminal lung cancer. In documenting this landmark case, Wade makes real the ways in which our current domestic partnership policies deny Americans basic rights based on their sexual orientation. Wade movingly reveals the tragic consequences that occur when a system fails to equally serve all of its citizens. At the core of this film lies a struggle that would not have existed had Ms. Hester and Ms. Andree been a married heterosexual couple. QFR was curious about Ms. Wade’s relationship to the film, as well as her experiences working in an industry that is largely male-dominated, and at times discriminative. Unfortunately, Ms. Wade was unable to answer a majority of the questions we posed, but here is our interview:

QueerFilmReview.com: How did you first get involved in the story of Freeheld?

Cynthia Wade: I did not set out to make a film about Laurel Hester. It was late 2005, and I had recently given birth to my second child and was busy with other film projects. But I read an article about Laurel in a local paper, and when I read that her partner Stacie, an auto mechanic, was poised to lose their house, I immediately understood the great risk they faced. I brought my camera to a community meeting where Laurel planned to speak to her county officials, the Freeholders. As soon as the meeting started, I knew instantly that this was going to be my next film. The meeting was very dramatic; the air was thick with tension. It’s actually the first scene in the film. Community members were passionately begging their elected officials to allow Laurel to keep the pension she had earned over the course of 25 years of service. The county officials, called Freeholders, said no. If Laurel had been married to a man, there would have been no issue.

I couldn’t believe that in New Jersey - just a stone’s throw away from New York City - this kind of overt discrimination was taking place. Afterward, I went up to Laurel and Stacie and introduced myself and asked if I could tell their story. Laurel said yes. She had always wanted to write a book, and realized she was running out of time and wouldn’t be able to write the book, so she hoped that the film would take place of the book. Later, I drove back to New York City, where I live, and told my husband what I had seen. I said, “I have to go back to New Jersey and make this film.” This posed a challenge: we had a 4-month-old infant, a 5-year-old kindergartener, I was running a busy documentary film business, and my husband works full-time in another industry. But after I explained what was at stake — for Laurel and for other same-sex couples — he took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Let’s work it out.” This became a family project; we were all invested.

QFR: What were some of the key elements in making the film such a success?

CW: First and foremost, I had to garner the support and trust of Laurel and Stacie. A film like this can only work if the filmmaker earns total trust from her subjects.

Laurel and Stacie trusted me completely, and that was a big responsibility. Laurel and Stacie gave me access to their lives in an extremely vulnerable and emotional time. I did not want to hurt them in any way. We all felt that the film was important, and that it could be used as a tool for social change, but we were dealing with real life too. Respecting them was extremely important to me. I was constantly asking myself, “Should I shoot this? Should I put down the camera? Is this too much?” As Laurel got sicker, I put down the camera a lot. There were things that I didn’t film because it felt too invasive

I gave Laurel and Stacie a camera so that they could film when I was not there; some of the best material came from them. The film was collaboration between the three of us.

There were logistical challenges – the more time I spent in New Jersey, the less time I spent with my two young children in New York. I didn’t always feel completely comfortable with this, but I was rapidly losing Laurel so I needed to be in New Jersey as much as possible. My husband was holding down a demanding full-time job and taking care of our children at night (our infant was not yet sleeping through the night). Between our family members and a babysitter, we covered the childcare.

And there were also financial challenges — when we got accepted to Sundance last year, I didn’t even know how I would get the money to buy a plane ticket to get to the festival. My editor, David Teague, trusted me, and even though I owed him $30,000, he said, “Let’s just finish the film. You’ll figure out a way to pay me later.” Sure enough, it happened, and at our first Sundance screening, I met a funder, and things just kind of took off from there. Fortunately, there are a lot of people who care deeply about this issue, and feel that the film is a crucial component to spreading the message of equal rights. I could not have done this without all of the supporters that came on. It just goes to show important it is to take risks in life, like that old saying "Leap and the net will appear."

QFR: Do you feel inclined to choose subject matter to which you are emotionally involved in? If so, in what ways does this enhance and/or hinder your films?

CW: I always have a deep emotional involvement in my films. I find that the film finds me most of the time, and sort of creeps up out of nowhere. To me, it is like a vine, where it starts curling around my arms and then curls up to my neck and starts squeezing me in my throat. It is like its own thing; it’s a creature that just starts saying, “Make me! Make me! Make me!” until I can’t breathe and am saying, “Okay! Okay! Okay!” and the writing is on the wall and I have to make the film. I find often that the films find me.

I think this enhances my filmmaking, but it can hinder my life, as I get so deeply entrenched in the film that it is hard sometimes to come up for air in my real life!

– Reviewed by Jess Paps

For more information:

Freeheld.com

QueerFilmReview.com