Do you remember your early adolescence? Those warm summer evenings without a care in the world when anything seemed possible…that small group of emerging friendships that would last a lifetime…your parents, perhaps a little distant, but always there with a word of advice or encouragement at exactly the point you needed it most…
Oh, grow up!
For most of us, early adolescence is a nightmare of peer pressure, newly raging hormones (which, because nobody talks about sex, we haven’t a clue what to do with) and totally ineffectual (assuming they actually do care) parents. It’s a time of life when we really start to develop an emotional life outside the family unit, something most of us are ill-equipped to do.
The former vision of adolescence is courtesy of Disney Studios and their various imitators. If that’s the way you remember that time of your life, you are either extremely fortunate or you indulge a little too often in nostalgic fantasy. The latter vision of adolescence is courtesy of independent filmmaker Todd Solondz, whose very funny, very true film Welcome to the Dollhouse has its American premiere at the Sundance Film Festival, before opening in theatres around the country.
“I wanted to explore the realities and the terrors and the cruelties of that time [childhood] and give them their due, to respect that, the struggles that these kids endure,” Solondz, in an interview conducted at the Toronto International Film Festival, said. “It really does feel like life and death every day when you go out there to school. In a way, many adults sentimentalize the past and think, ‘Aah, when I was carefree and young.’ And yet, I’m not sure…maybe some of us were, but I think…I don’t believe carefree is just a figure of speech. I wanted to — call it a response to the Wonder Years or that sort of thing.”
Dollhouse follows the adventures of 11 year-old Dawn Wiener. A middle child, she finds herself benignly ignored by her parents, whose attention is divided between her older brother, who carries the intellectual aspirations of the family, and her younger sister, who is a gorgeous little angel. Dawn is repeatedly picked on by other children at school, where she is a chronic underachiever. In the midst of this torment, which she is powerless to stop, she has to deal with her own emerging attraction to members of the opposite sex.
The film is uncompromising in its portrayal of the dynamics of early adolescents. Through the first half of the film, for instance, one of the male characters threatens to rape Dawn. But, when the confrontation between the two actually occurs, it results in a simple kiss. “That’s a beautiful moment, and yet they’re talking about rape,” Solondz explained. “That’s the concept they have with those words that filter down to them. But they don’t — I’m not sure they — I mean, 11 is 11. I mean, they’re kids and they don’t — they can’t possibly understand all that is coming down at them.”
Although the language employed in the film is raw enough to offend a lot of people, Solondz defended using it: “You can’t flinch from a certain kind of reality there. I had wanted, actually, to call the movie Faggots and Retards, because this is the currency, this is the world they live in.” Solondz admitted he couldn’t go as far as he wanted to, however; he didn’t want the title to be too sensationalist, for one thing. On a practical level, newspapers such as the New York Times would not carry advertisements for a film with such a title.
Dawn, the main focus of the film, is a complex character, full of pent up rage (the signature shot of Dollhouse, repeated several times, is of Dawn standing with her fists clenched staring virtually bug-eyed at the camera) which she is occasionally able to release on those who are lower down on the pecking order than she is. As Solondz stated: “To make the story of just a poor little girl victim just wouldn’t interest me. But to present her not only as a victim — she is a victim, but she also victimizes, she is a persecutor. I think that both sides co-exist within all of us.”
Yet, what could have been a depressing film leavens its darkness with a great deal of humour. There is one scene, for instance, in which Dawn’s mother, after giving dessert to the rest of the family members, refuses to give Dawn any. In many ways, the scene is indicative of the way Solondz combines meanness and humour: “The cruelty there is very apparent, and what interests me all the time is not just that it’s cruelty, but there is a certain kind of humour there at the same time. I respond to that kind of cruelty. It’s not like playing for laughs — like, ha ha ha — you know, but there is something funny and strange about all of this, and very sad. And it’s that tension between what’s funny and sad, simultaneously, both horrible and beautiful at the same time that really compels me.”
Remarkably, this complex, entertaining, highly accomplished film had a very tenuous existence for many years. In fact, for most of the script’s existence, Solondz had no intention of producing it. His reticence to be involved with the film industry stemmed from a bad experience making his first feature film, Fear, Anxiety and Depression. At first, it seemed like Solondz was destined to have a brilliant career: a screening of Schatt’s Last Shot, one of many shorts he made as a student at New York University Film School resulted in a three picture writing deal with 20th Century/Fox, which was followed by a second three picture deal at Columbia. But his experience with Fear was so bad that he dropped out of the industry.
Although Solondz is cagey about details of what happened during the making of the film, he described it as “very demoralizing.” A clue to what happened lies in Solondz’ statement that “it’s not even the title I wanted” (which was The Young and the Hopeless). Clearly, disagreements with the studio played a big part in Solondz disillusionment with the film industry.
Dollhouse was written at the tail end of Solondz’ experience with Fear. “While that movie was being finished, I started writing this,” he explained. “I made a few tentative efforts at getting some interest and people responded enthusiastically to the script and the writing piece, but I don’t think anybody really felt they could get any money together for something like this.” And, because of his initial experience with filmmaking, Solondz wasn’t pushing the script.
So, he spent six years teaching English as a Second Language to Russian immigrants. “I had no skills,” he sheepishly admitted. When people asked him what he REALLY did, Solondz would tell them that he had worked as a computer programmer so that “didn’t have to tell refer to my movie experience.”
Eventually, Solondz was given access to some money through a family connection, and decided to make Dollhouse as an independent feature film. (Although he didn’t want to reveal exact figures, Solondz was willing to allow that the film had a low budget.) “I didn’t want that demoralizing experience to be — to have the last word on me.” Solondz chose Dollhouse as the screenplay to be produced because, of the several he had written, he felt it was the one which had the least chance of being produced commercially.
The film was shot, on and off, in the summer of 1994 in West Caldwell, New Jersey. As it turned out, none of the investors (who numbered less than 10) was involved in the film industry. “There had been some people who offered to come in and provide completion financing,” Solondz stated, “but we ended up declining that offer because the investors felt confident they didn’t want to share with someone who was coming in later into the project.” Ultimately, Solondz had to go to great lengths to get the completion funding: “From my former, earlier career, I had an agent who is a producer now. But he — Carey Woods is his name — he was always supportive and championing me and my work. When I was in trouble, I called him and he said, ‘I’ll put you in contact with these people,’ and, in fact, these were people who were interested. So, that’s how it came about.”
One of the ways Solondz could have saved a little money, a method other filmmakers have bragged about, is “stealing” shots in public places without going to the trouble of getting permits. He was, however, very much opposed to the practice: “What’s to brag about?! I mean, you should have them. These are kids, you are responsible if anything happens. It’s not to be made light of. People own property and you have to respect that. I don’t see anything to boast of doing things in an illegal or underhanded way at all. I really don’t see the honour in that.”
Some of the cast and crew accepted payment deferrals, but these varied. “People did get paid,” Solondz insisted. “Not a lot of money, because of the time commitment involved — if we could have shot it in two weeks, you could have got away with it,” but the shooting schedule had to be longer in order to give the child actors and their parents a break.
Solondz went on to point out that the financial difficulties “are different on a low budget, indie film. They are just different from a corporate sponsored film. I hope I don’t have to go so low budget ever again.”
Dollhouse was screened at the Toronto International Film Festival last September. According to Solondz, “This festival was key for me. I had completed the film in the nick of time to make the deadline of June 30th and Fed Exed it just so that it got [to Toronto] that day. It was down to the wire. When I heard that it was accepted, I was terribly happy and I have to say surprised, but I don’t want to sound too self-deprecating when I say that, because this is, after all, a no name, no star film, and it would be very easy, I imagine, for someone else to look at it, someone other than Kay Armitage, and say, ‘Very good. Next.’ But fortunately she saw it and liked it.”
Solondz also submitted Dollhouse to the Independent Film Producer’s Market, which had a deadline on the same day. Although the IFP Market has a reputation for accepting any film which comes with the right application fee, Solondz sweated out a selection process. “I don’t take anything for granted,” he said. (He got in.)
Being accepted into film festivals is important, Solondz believes, because it “creates a certain legitimacy for a film.” On a practical level, film festivals give distribution companies an opportunity to see a film: “The primary objective of Toronto for me was to get a domestic distribution deal, theatrical. And to my happy surprise, they are…people I would like to be talking to, [people who] want to talk to me.”
Since Toronto, Welcome to the Dollhouse has been picked up for distribution in the United States by Sony Picture Classics; the film’s foreign sales agent is Alliance Releasing, although there are still, apparently, some territories unsold.
Despite being back in the film industry, Solondz isn’t counting on that long, brilliant career. “The business isn’t secure,” he stated, “and I don’t — it’s just easy, on the flip of a coin, for everything to change.”
interview conducted by Lana McKenzie
This article first appeared in Reel Independence, Volume 4, Number 1, January/February 1996.