Chocolate Oyster is the debut narrative feature by Canada-born, Bondi-based film producer, director, and writer Steve Jaggi, making its international premiere at this year’s Sydney Film Festival. Comprised of a cast of Sydney local actors, this laid-back dramedy portrays the struggles of living as a young creative in Sydney, a city which seems to take great pride in making life more and more difficult for those that live in it. Through retroscripting (more on that later), cinema-verite style shooting, and a great team of local actors, Jaggi has created a film that is frighteningly and frustratingly accurate in its depiction of millenial artifice and banality that has swarmed the Eastern Suburbs.
Dylan spoke to Steve about his eclectic film, the experiences that informed it, and the state of affairs of life in Sydney today as a young creative, pretending that you have it all worked out.
So, to start off with a question more about yourself. I understand that you’re originally from Canada, what made you decide to come to Sydney?
The weather [laughter] – well that’s only partially true, it’s a bit more complicated. I actually went to film school in Brisbane when I was your age, and then, just like anybody working creatively in Australia – it’s the same in Canada – I couldn’t get any work here, so one of the best decisions I made in my life was to go to London and try my luck there. I ended up there for nearly ten years, and that’s where I got the experience because there’s such a big industry there, I was able to work my way up and become a producer. The financial crisis hit, so I figured I would move to LA, but I decided to come back to Australia for a year for travel, but I realised how much I loved it here.
Yeah, I feel like it’s definitely a rite of passage for Australian creatives to go to London and get some experience. So did that influence at all some of what’s in the film, such as with the character Henry [a playwright played by Ryan Harrison who travels to London]?
Absolutely. The film is totally inspired by regular events, it’s a combination of my story as well as those of the actors in the film, all of which I’ve worked with before. We just sat down and talked about our life experiences and our frustrations. Even though I’m a little older now in my thirties, I’m not too old that I don’t remember what it’s like being in my early twenties. We really wrote the film with that frustration, and even now they’re the same frustrations, they don’t go away, they just get bigger because the stakes get higher. All the stories in the film are fiction, but we just shared these anecdotes of what has happened to us or our friends, so everything that happens in the film has happened to someone in real life.
It doesn’t surprise me. When I was watching the film I thought, “this is scarily authentic,” right down to the cadence of how people are speaking. My favourite scene is the dinner party, where the other guests are all pretty condescending, and I thought “My god, it’s like staring right at a dinner with my extended family whenever I mention my writing.”
You’ve mentioned also that you’re primarily a producer, was this your first time directing and writing?
Yes and no, I’ve directed documentaries and music videos before, and when I was in film school I directed a feature-length movie, but never a commercial release. I would be lying if I said I never directed before but it was certainly the first time I’ve directed a drama film as a feature.
How was the transition?
Full disclosure, it’s not like I was there with no help; there’s a big difference in being a producer and watching people do it and then suddenly driving it creatively. The biggest challenge is having the confidence. When you’re working on the film but you’re not the key creative, it’s easy to have confidence, but when you’re the one coming up with the creative vision, it’s difficult to just switch off and ignore what people think from a self-confidence point of view. If I was worried about what people think, I could have never had made this film.
I found it interesting that you chose to focus the film on people with creative pursuits, even though Australia – particularly Sydney – is not especially known for its creatives internationally. What made you choose to focus on that part of Sydney life?
On the surface of it, they say you write what you know, so because I work in creative entertainment, that’s a world I understand. But also, I like to think that there’s a subtext in the film, I would challenge your point about being a creative – and that’s what the film I think on some subtextual level comments on – what’s interesting now is that if you’re in your twenties, now with Instagram and social media, everyone is a creative. The fact of the matter is that even if you’re a lawyer you need something like an active Instagram account with professional photos, clients now expect a brand; it’s all about that hustle. That’s what these characters [in Chocolate Oyster] have to do; they’re all hustling. When I first went to uni, the world was changing, you still went to become a lawyer or an accountant there was no crossover, but I think now that doesn’t exist anymore, now you have to be everything. You’ll do maybe five jobs in your life, you’ll have your main job and side job and that’s what the world is like now. Chocolate Oyster’s subtext is that these characters are struggling with that life, and that they’re all being sold these lies. My goal was for this to be subtextual: it’s not about how Instagram is ruining your life because you never see it directly in the film. There’s what I think is a really powerful scene where Ellie [the character played by Anna Laurence] is in her bed checking her phone, but you never see what’s on her phone, and the idea behind that is that she’s on Instagram looking at how other people are living.
Yeah, I found that really accurate to my own life.
Exactly, all of these characters, their lives are about trying to create this image. Henry, the playwright, is a bad playwright, but for him, it’s about the image of being a playwright which is why he went to London, he actually has no talent but that doesn’t matter to him.
And similarly, Taylor [played by Rosie Lourde] is a dancer but she’s not the best one in her troupe. You chose not to focus on that tired trope of incredible talents that aren’t recognised in a cruel and harsh world, but rather, that everyone has a creative pursuit, but realising that you’re not always going to be the best one, and you’re not always going to get that break.
I think that’s the challenge of growing up. Not a day goes by where I don’t ask myself “am I good enough? Should I be a producer? Why am I doing this?” At the end of the film Taylor and Ellie have to make a decision: Taylor decides to go off and get a “real job,” but my observation of life is that kind of happens gradually. I know for me, from the age of eighteen, every single year I’ve asked myself “am I a fraud? Am I good enough?” I guess that’s life, that’s what the film is all about capturing, there’s no right or wrong answer.
I also got a sense that the film is a bit of a screw you to life in Sydney right now. Things are extremely overpriced; there’s a diminishing of culture in our nightlife and the selling off of venues to become corporate or apartment spaces. Many people in Sydney think that now it’s even harder for creative people than it has been before.
That was definitely intentional, as I said myself and the cast and crew spent many times sitting around and we all had that screw you attitude; you love and you hate Sydney at the same time. I’ve lived in Sydney now for ten years, and there’s something that keeps you there, but every time I go away to Brisbane I always think “oh my god it’s so amazing,” but I still go back to Sydney. Sydney’s one of those cities where everybody’s getting ripped off and we know we’re getting ripped off, that’s the environment you start to live in. What we tried to do with this movie is that the characters don’t know that yet, they’re just on the cusp of figuring that out, but they’re still so sold on the dream of trying to be something. The actors and myself always felt like “why are we here?” But the characters themselves aren’t mature enough yet to ask themselves the same question.
I definitely liked that the film wasn’t wholly sympathetic to the characters, there’s an element of criticism there.
[Laughing] They’re all assholes.
Yeah! I was going to say “you know what, none of these people are that likeable.”
That’s the Eastern Suburbs.
What made you set it in Bondi? Everyone knows Bondi Beach but the suburb of Bondi has a pretty distinctive atmosphere.
Well, I live in Bondi, and a lot of creatives live in Bondi and the Eastern Suburbs. But, Bondi is the epicentre of this “screw you” attitude. Everyday I get up and walk around and everyone is looking at me, they’re all in activewear, they’re drinking lattes and I’m thinking “how are you affording this?” Then, you realise three or four people are living in a flatshare their lives aren’t that great, they’re struggling to keep this kind of veneer of a life, but when you peel it back and realise that, virtually nobody is living the dream, but everybody keeps perpetuating the myth. You arrive in Bondi and think “well everybody else has got it now I’ve gotta get it,” and there’s then a domino effect. We wanted to capture that Bondi attitude even with the way the camera moves, and how everyone’s always sweating, and the costumes they wear.
The thing that really made it for me was the way these guys who have that specific facial hair, haircut, and voice in that area. When I was younger, coming into the City or the Eastern Suburbs was always such a big deal because it was a taste of “the real world.” Now, after working in the CBD I’ve realised that people are actually a lot more like people from my area, it’s just that perhaps they’re willing to sacrifice a lot more to be closer to the action.
Exactly. I think at the end of the film that’s what it asks for the audience to reflect on. Is it worth trying to keep running on this hamster wheel? That’s why at the very end there’s the shot of Ellie looking at that Ferris wheel, while Taylor goes into the CBD. She decides to get out of this world and start to be an “adult,” while Ellie says “no;” she looks up at that Ferris wheel and she goes back on it.
That’s very true, people who get stuck on that mode of thinking are rarely swayed out of it no matter how many times someone tries to talk some sense into them. Kind of on that, do you consider your film to be more of a love letter to Sydney or more of an elegy to something that’s been lost?
I don’t think it’s a love letter, not at all, I think my relationship with Sydney has always been a love/hate relationship, I think that what I tried to do here was purely observational. I’m not saying “screw you,” and I’m not saying “you should love it.” I’m saying, “this is our life,” and I think that for the people who worked on the movie this is as true to life as possible. Hopefully, if you watch this film twenty or thirty years from now, you’d think “wow, this is a slice of life, this is as observational as possible.” Although it’s fictional, we have tried to root it in reality, even down to the style, almost a documentary.
On that technical note, I noticed that the dialogue flows pretty naturally, was there a lot of improvisation involved in the development of it?
Yes, the way we made the film is through a process called retroscripting; similar to John Cassavetes, or Spike Lee, or Curb Your Enthusiasm. The script had no dialogue; I scripted the whole movie out, and the crew knew what we were doing but the cast had no idea, but we rehearsed their backstories. At the beginning, with the break-up scene, those actors didn’t know they were breaking up, we rehearsed for several days with them: how they met, their first date, all that kind of stuff. Then, we got to the location and set it all up, and then I explained to them their goal: his goal is to get her to move in with him, and her goal is to break up with him. That’s why you get that super realistic dialogue, the narrative journey of the characters is scripted, but the dialogue is a hundred percent improvised. Most of the scenes are one take, in the opening scene, its fifteen minutes of just one take – the camera never moves. The camera changes as the movie progresses, but most scenes are just one take to keep it authentic, to make it look and feel like a documentary.
Finally, I’m interested to hear your thoughts – Chocolate Oyster obviously anticipates what Sydney’s future is creatively – as a producer and director, where do you see the Australian, or Sydney film industry going into the next couple years?
I think it’s more good than bad news, in that, there are more opportunities than there ever have been. I’ve been doing this professionally for about 12 years now, and every year, there are more and more opportunities; the barriers to entry from a technical point of view get fewer and fewer. Chocolate Oyster was shot with very simple equipment; anybody now can get the technology to make a movie. What makes it challenging is you now have to make work that stands out. There are now so many movies, whereas 20 years ago, you had to have really rich parents to make a movie, now anybody could make a movie, even working part-time in a cafe. I think what’s really going to be changing for the generation below me, for kids now who are sixteen to eighteen years old or even younger, the future won’t be “I’m a film director and that’s all I do,” it’ll be that you’re gonna work two or three different jobs throughout your life, maybe more, and being a filmmaker will be a part of your creative portfolio. You might be an architect and a filmmaker. Whatever people do, the future is about doing multiple things, and filmmaking and storytelling are apart of that.
I definitely think we’re already heading in that direction.
Interview by Dylan Stevens
Chocolate Oyster
Sydney Film Festival