Filmmaker Miriam Agwai challenges us to get comfortable with discomfort

By Ashley Elliott

In conversation with Miriam Agwai, creator of short film The Things In Between, a uniquely intimate and nuanced story of Black love, mental health, immigration, and visibility.

You are the director, writer, producer, editor, lead colorist, and lead actor for this project. First of all, wow. Your love for this craft is obviously deeply rooted within you. What is the origin story of this passion and direction? When did you know that cinema was something you were called to do? What pushed you to create this piece of cinema? 

Honestly, a lot of me wearing all those hats had more to do with me trying to make the project work with limited resources. I was quite bummed that that was the main thing preventing me from collaborating with way more people, but I am still grateful that I was able to pour my love of film and storytelling into this. Growing up, I always loved stories because stories were where I tended to find myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been part of a dominant group at any point in my life — whether it’s my race, my gender, my age, being a foreigner, being from not one but three of the smaller ethnic groups in my country, the list truly goes on. I don’t really fit into many boxes, so, growing up, stories helped me feel less lonely. I could read books, watch films, and listen to music that reflected back a feeling or an experience that made me go, “I know that! I know what that’s like!” It’s kind of like hearing someone else sing a song you thought only existed in your head or being in a sea of people and hearing someone else speak a language that only you seem to know. I think it helps you feel like you can dare to take up space in the world as yourself. For most of my life I thought I was going to be a journalist, but then my junior year of high school, I got this opportunity to go to an acting program. Funnily enough, I’d been praying for direction a few weeks before the call because I’d realized I didn’t want to be a journalist anymore and was fully panicking about what to study in university. 

Then this random cold call happened: my mum and I went to check it out and quickly realized that it wasn’t quite what they advertised, but we both felt like it could be a great creative outlet for me. I joined the program and had the best time. It gave me a glimpse into a world that I knew nothing about but that I absolutely wanted to consume. This birthed my love for the craft of filmmaking. I looked into film schools and ended up going to the School of Visual Arts in New York City. I learned so much about editing, producing, directing, script writing, and even sound while I was there, and my thesis film even made it into festivals. Shortly after I graduated, DSLR cameras were all the rage, so I started learning how to shoot as well, which led me to playing around with color correcting. I worked in different capacities on different productions because I love the magic, hard work, and collaboration that goes into storytelling. In my mid-twenties, I started taking acting classes again because I missed it. I ended up learning the Meisner Technique with James Brill from the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York, which I truly feel upped the ante for me as an actor and a filmmaker. I found a new depth of honesty as a person and a storyteller while taking those classes, and the experience taught me how to dive even deeper. 

Image courtesy of The Things In Between.

So how exactly did you end up here?

So many things pushed me to create The Things In Between. I have this huge love for cinema, but a lot of the spaces I’ve learned and worked in have been predominantly white and male. I couldn’t see myself or my experiences in a lot of those spaces. Even though I’d found myself in stories, I discovered that there wasn’t much equitable space for stories like mine to exist in. Whether it was in stories, or crews, or staffing, or casting, it just felt like I was clawing to get into spaces that couldn’t see the fullness and humanity of someone like me. For a very long time I was convinced it was just me and that this was all happening because I just wasn’t working hard enough. Then when I started meeting other people with stories like mine Black, Asian, Latinx, fat, gay, bi, gender fluid, female, trans, old, the list goes on — talented and marginalized people with experiences eerily similar to mine, I knew that it couldn’t be just me anymore. Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with being white and male, and not every experience of mine has been terrible, but I do think there’s something wrong if that’s the only standard we’re willing to use when we’re deciding whose stories have value. I can’t devote the rest of my life to trying to break myself into that, or any, standard for that matter. So I decided to make the kind of film I wanted to exist.

I wanted to make a film where Black characters were allowed to be fully human without any preconceived notions about what we can and cannot be. I wanted a film where we were allowed to have complexities and give nuanced performances up close. I wanted a Black female character with a Grace Jones haircut to be a love interest because we do whatever the hell we want with our hair. I wanted a Black man who was allowed to go through a mental health struggle and it be completely normalized. I wanted to show a different face and side to immigration because immigration is such a vast topic, and I’m tired of how easily we talk about it in such limiting terms without taking into account what it actually looks like for the real people who are trying their best while being impacted by a myriad of policies. I wanted to make a film I would work my damndest to be on if someone else were producing it. I wanted to make a film that could make someone watching go, “I know that. I know what that’s like.” The kind of film my younger self would’ve been proud of me for making, limited resources and all. 

Mental health and depression are recurring themes throughout the film. As we watch Grace and Michael, we observe that Michael, portrayed by actor Lenny Thomas, becomes withdrawn and is unable to reclaim himself, which plays a role in the demise of their relationship. Have you reflected upon ways in which Grace and Michael could potentially have revitalized — and ultimately saved — the relationship?

There are a few ways I think they could’ve saved their relationship. Part of it involves circumstance, and the other part involves their behavior. Overall, I do think that they would’ve had a fighting chance if they had talked to each other and really listened to what the other person was saying. With Michael, I truly believe it would have been a very different situation if he’d had an environment that prioritized mental health and had access to a good therapist prior to their breakup. Normalizing mental health struggles and having access to the right help is so important. There’s a part of me that mourns that Michael didn’t have that prior to the breakup — not for the relationship, but for himself — mainly because I know that there are many people out there, men especially, who need that. If he’d had what he needed prior to the breakup, he would’ve had the language he needed to communicate what was going on to Grace. In Grace’s situation, I think things would’ve been different if the Americans in her world actually understood what went into the immigration process or, at the very least, took seriously the stress and pressure she was under. I believe that if Michael and Grace had learned how to have hard conversations with each other instead of being lone wolves, things would’ve been so much better, especially since there was real love between them.

Image courtesy of The Things In Between.

 The on-screen relationship appears to be predicated on chemistry and friendship. However, it simultaneously appears to lack depth, as honesty and vulnerability are missing at major intersections. When developing the nature of the couple’s dynamic, what made you decide to use those specific shortcomings to set the stage for the unraveling of the relationship? 

I’ve read quite a few romance novels and watched a lot of romantic comedies and dramedies from different countries. Clearly, I am just so dedicated  to the cause. While I love them and find a few of them to be wonderfully fun, there have been so many that have thrown me out of the magic of the moment, or made me cringe, or gotten me upset because there was unhealthy behavior being labeled as “romantic.” It’s one thing to showcase a character’s flaw, but it’s another to paint manipulative or controlling behavior as romantic or loving. In crafting Michael and Grace’s relationship, I wanted something to pull them apart that wasn’t built on glorifying incredibly unhealthy behavior, especially since they were both agreeing to do the interview. The lack of depth became the perfect way to avoid the challenges I’d seen in the genre while still giving Michael and Grace something to yearn for from each other. I also felt the lack of depth was relatable because I think a lot of us have experienced that in one way, shape, or form. Plus, I felt it made it harder for audiences to pick sides. 

 

 

Most of the film consists of close-up shots of just our two lovers, making it seem as though, in their world, all they can see is one another. Were those frames and shots intentional? If so, what were you trying to communicate to the audience?

I’m glad you saw that! Yes, that was 100% intentional. I went over the shots I was going for and the inspiration with the Director of Photography in pre-production because I wanted to make sure we had things right, especially with having to cut between the world of the interview and the world of their memories. Neither Michael nor Grace can run from each other, and I wanted the audience to stay with them for that. If they can’t run, y’all can’t run either. I wanted the audience to catch every awkward, endearing, sad, joyful, hurtful, challenging moment they were going through because I don’t think we often stay with people or sit in discomfort in real life. Oftentimes, it’s for good reason. I’m not going to sit in the middle of two exes hashing out their past, and I don’t think most people would either. I do think that we’ve gotten very good at distracting ourselves though, sometimes to the point of running away when we should stay, especially when things get too intimate or we’re not as in control as we’d like to be. So for me, the shots were inviting the viewer into something personal and intimate, both with the couple and then separate from them. 

Images courtesy of The Things In Between.

 The immigrant experience is not often portrayed on film in this manner. Your film highlights the smaller, more intimate aspects of the obstacles that immigrants living in the United States face. From where did you draw inspiration to approach the conversation in this way? 

In making this film, I decided to give both characters a part of me so each had a challenge that I’ve personally experienced. The experiences are not identical in either case, but my experiences were their baselines. For Michael, it was dealing with depression; with Grace, it was the immigration progress. I really wanted to put the immigrant experience in more human terms because I find that people don’t always stop to consider how policies affect real human beings. So many of us immigrants have experienced things, from inaccurate and wild misconceptions to prejudice and discrimination. I’ve had my integrity questioned on more than one occasion, not because of my character but because I’m Nigerian. That was it. Apparently my country of origin is enough for people to not trust me, as if we haven’t seen corruption worldwide. In talking with most Americans about misconceptions they have about immigration, regardless of party affiliation, I’ve been met with everything from shock, to people immediately forgetting what I’ve told them, to simply not being acknowledged. To be fair, I have met some Americans who’ve been willing to educate themselves on what I’ve told them, but so far, I can only name four people I know have done that for sure. My immigrant friends and I have heard all the things. “Can’t you just get a green card?” “No, it’s a long process with a lot of requirements to meet.” “Are you sure? That can’t be right.” “Yes, I am sure. You’re more than welcome to read up on it.” “Why don’t you just get married for a green card?” “Because that’s a felony and this isn’t The Proposal. It also would’ve been a very different movie if Sandra Bullock’s character was played by Lupita Nyong’o or Penelope Cruz and wasn’t from Canada.” And these are the lighter conversations.

Even explaining the parameters of work visas seems to be a challenge because the average American honestly doesn’t have a concept of what it’s like for us immigrants. They don’t have to go through it. We do. I felt like a love and breakup story was an easy entry point because that’s something most people can understand and get into. We can get into the idea of love won and lost because it’s so deeply human. Since I know the deeply human ways the immigration process has impacted me and people I know, I wanted to link the two together in a way that an American audience could understand and in a way that honored my fellow immigrants. To be clear, neither my nor Grace’s immigrant experience is a “one-size-fits-all” situation, but we’re part of a conversation that’s far more multifaceted than many people realize. I just really wanted to be as true to Grace and her experience as possible. Before releasing the film online, I shared it with my friend from Trinidad, and she said that it was the first time she’d seen a reflection of herself as an immigrant. I sobbed and bawled in response and was so grateful she couldn’t see me via DMs. That was the moment I realized that even if no one else liked this film, I’d be okay. I’d created something that made someone who hasn’t always felt seen and heard actually feel seen and heard. Even though it’s impossible for every immigrant to see themselves in Grace’s exact circumstances, I hope that the immigrants that do see it can see that there’s space for the fullness of our humanity.

 

 

Who is this film for? Who is your target audience? What do you hope they take away from this film?

I’d love for this to be seen and appreciated by Black folks. I’d definitely love for all groups of people to be able to relate to Michael and Grace’s story, and I’ve been floored by how universal their story has been to so many different people — some completely unexpected. It’s just that a positive Pan-African response to the film would mean the world to me because I’m talking about us, and we don’t always get to have depictions like this. I hope audiences can watch this and come away feeling more seen and heard in their experience along with being more open to hearing and seeing the experiences of others. I want people to feel the way I did when I was a kid growing up and watching movies that helped me find parts of myself. 

Image courtesy of The Things In Between.

Where would you like your film to go from here? Where would you like to go from here?

This is the best way I know how to answer this, so please hang on because I promise I have a point: in my early twenties, I was known for throwing great parties, which I dutifully retired from in my mid-twenties because it was just time. It was a great run though. Nothing crazy ever happened — it was just good vibes and loads of fun, whether we were at a club or at the park or at my place. Just tens across the board. I would always get nervous before each party because I wanted people to have a great time not for validation, but out of love for people. To rid myself of the anxiety, I would pray that only the people who needed to be at the party would show up and the people that didn’t wouldn’t. That way, I was never mad at the people who couldn’t make it and I wasn’t worried about hovering over the people who showed up. It’s a very similar feeling in regards to the film. There’s a part of me that wants it to get huge so it hopefully touches more people, and there’s a part of me that wants it to stay small because it reaching more people can mean more eyes on me and I don’t know that there’s enough deodorant in the world to help my anxiety induced sweating. So my prayer is that the people who need to see it will see it when they need to and that those who don’t need to see it see the things they need to see instead. 

 

In terms of where I would like to go, I’m hoping I can be a part of making the kind of work that’s reflective of the world as it is. I want to make more films like this. One of the things I’m proudest of when it comes to this film is the team. We had Black, Latinx, Asian and white folks on the crew, and almost 50% of the entire team was made up of women. There was also an outpouring of support from so many different people that still floors me. I worked hard to create an environment where folks were respected not just for their craft, but for their personhood as well. Those are the kinds of projects I want to be a part of. If I can do that, I know I can look back at the end of my life and be proud.  

Miriam Agwai, photographed by Reece Williams.

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