Film-maker Lorraine Price takes us into a new perspective on the world of beauty and hair in the short film THE HAIRDRESSER.

Film And TV Now interviewed the film-maker as she reflected on the film, its’ context and her creative hopes and endeavours.

FILM AND TV NOW: The film is dedicated to your grandmother Cara Price. What are your reflections on her life and your own relationship with her?

LORRAINE PRICE: My grandmother, Cara Price, was always an ostentatious dresser. She dyed her shoulder length hair fire engine red and I never saw her leave the house without bright red lipstick to match.

Cara wore floral print blouses and costume jewellery, her nails were long and often ornately decorated with designs and mini rhinestones. Well into her eighties, she could still be seen teetering down her driveway in Los Angeles atop platform sandals.

Her style was loud, unapologetic, and bad-ass. But when my grandmother passed away in hospice care, on top of having dementia, she was barely recognizable to me—her hair was short and white, her nails nude, and her lips pale.

It felt as though she was gone long before she left us. I was so absorbed by my grief and the desire to mitigate her suffering that I neglected to consider the importance of that outward-facing identity that she had cultivated her whole life. It never occurred to me to paint her nails or put some lipstick on her but I’m sure it would have meant a lot to her.

FTVN: When did you first hear about Kathleen and her left-field approach to hairdressing?

LP: Shortly after my grandmother passed away, I read a small newspaper article in La Presse about a woman named Kathleen Mahony, who volunteered to do hair and makeup for the terminally ill at the palliative care unit at Notre-Dame Hospital in Montreal.

Learning about Kathleen’s work transformed my understanding of end-of-life care and I was finally able to process some of what I felt at the end of my grandmother’s life. I reached out to Kathleen immediately after reading the article and we embarked on the journey to make this documentary together.

Kathleen’s work is so valuable and meaningful but it’s far from universal. We avoid discussions around death and dying and taboos still dominate our relationship to the end of life.

My hope is that this film will invite audiences to consider what it means to die with dignity and perhaps broaden our understanding of our loved ones’ needs as they approach the end of their own stories.

FTVN: Often, when we think of hair and beauty, we see it in a more glamorous context in films like LEGALLY BLONDE. Tell us about the hospital you shot the film in.

LP: A film-maker friend of mine watched the film and one of her comments was how much she appreciated that the film didn’t emphasize the transformation or focus, as you say, on hair and beauty.

I thought that was interesting because, of course, another film-maker might have made that decision but it never even occurred to me! For me it was always about the gesture, the interaction, you know? Kathleen doesn’t do their hair because these patients are dying. She does it because they are human and they deserve to feel dignified and like themselves even when they are at their most vulnerable.

The palliative care unit where we shot the film is at Notre-Dame hospital in Montreal but the unit itself is run by this wonderful organization called La Fondation PalliAmi (the PalliAmi Foundation). Kathleen volunteers as a hairdresser but I believe they’ve also had a volunteer massage therapist and a pianist who come in to play on the piano each week.

That is also a really beautiful thing to witness, classical piano drifting down the corridors of the sort of stark and uninviting hospital. Though, I have to say, they do a really good job of making the palliative care unit feel more inviting than your typical hospital wing.

FTVN: How long did it take to shoot?

LP: I only did three shoots!

We shot twice at the hospital in the fall of 2019 (both with Madame Lalonde), and we had more shoots planned for spring 2020 but when COVID hit it was pretty clear that we wouldn’t be shooting in a hospital anytime soon. Also, Kathleen was 83 and so, she needed to be very careful about who she interacted with and where she went. We also did one very tiny shoot at Kathleen’s house in the fall of 2019 that you see at the top of the film.

Initially, my intention was to shoot with several patients but the universe had other plans. I’m just really fortunate that Madame Lalonde was the patient who opened her door to us and participated in the film. She was so charming, endearing, and even got a couple of jokes in there. I’m so grateful that she wanted to be a part of the project.

Overall though, the film took four years—the hospital administration changed and I lost access, then I regained access but the hospital was shuffling around the units and I couldn’t shoot during the move; Kathleen is a snowbird and spends every winter in Florida, so I had to wait for her to come back to Montreal—there were a lot of delays.

But I knew I really wanted to make this film, so I just kept at it until all the pieces fell into place. It looks so simple and effortless on screen but this film is the result of years of perseverance. But that’s film-making!

FTVN: How did you raise finance for the short?

LP: THE HAIRDRESSER is 100% financed by the Conseil des arts et lettres du Québec (CALQ), which is an arts council. We are so fortunate to have them in Québec. CALQ has kind of been my fairy godmother when it comes to making more auteur driven projects these last few years. I have so much love for CALQ. 

FTVN: The Canadian film industry certainly has a lot of prestige with film-makers like Ivan Reitman and David Cronenberg moving into more mainstream paths with films like GHOSTBUSTERS and THE FLY on occasion. What are your own reflections on the local industry and where do you feel it strikes gold?

LP: I’m really excited by recent films like Aisling Chin-Yee and Chase Joynt’s documentary No Ordinary Man and Sophie Deraspe’s (somewhat less recent) feature film, Antigone.

I just think there are such interesting things happening in the intersection between fact and fiction these days. Chin-Yee and Joynt’s film documents, in part, a casting call for the role of 1950s trans jazz musician Billy Tipton, a role which will never be played in the film but which is interpreted and explored through each actor as a way of reclaiming and retelling Tipton’s story by the trans community. It’s such a smart choice.

It’s truthful in a way that isn’t beholden the way facts are traditionally understood in documentary; it’s a choice that allows the film to get at a larger, deeper truth. Sophie Deraspe also explores the boundaries between fact and fiction in her films and you can really feel her experience in documentary at work in her fiction. I love that.

Deraspe’s fluid camera work, the film’s social conscience, and use of social media—it’s all so fresh and honest and just so good.

FTVN: You directed the final episode of ENGRAVED ON A NATION, titled ON THE LINE. Tell us more about this work and what were the key things you learned from the experience?

LP: ON THE LINE is a mid-length documentary about the rivalry between the Canadian and American women’s hockey teams, which is the most epic rivalry in sports.

It’s an incredible story that spans two decades from before women’s hockey was included in the Olympics in 1998 to the present day. I mean, the film ends in 2019 but the story continues! The story itself is told completely from the POV of the players themselves, so no journalists or coaches, second or third parties. Just the women on the ice.

From a craft perspective, I had never worked with so many voices and POVs in one film. It took a lot of work to strike a balance between individual players and their collective voices as national teams, the rivalry between the teams, and then on top of all that, their collective voices as women hockey players. Because their rivalry is responsible for the continued growth of their sport—and that’s something that unites them. All of that in under sixty minutes. That was an enormous challenge.

On a personal level, making ON THE LINE solidified for me why gender parity in sport is so important. Because we’re not just talking about sports, we’re talking about scholarships to Ivy League schools, access to quality training and coaching, leadership and team building skills; we’re talking about developing strength of character and heart, facing adversity—women should have equal opportunity to experience all of those things. And they should have the opportunity to professionalize their skill sets just as men do.

FTVN: How has the festival circuit helped you and your film?

LP: It has been such a strange time to premiere a film! I really miss engaging with audiences. One of my favourite things to do is stand at the back of the theatre while the audience watches just so I can experience what the room feels like, but I haven’t been able to do that this time.

That being said, the festival circuit has been such a gift, I have been so lucky to screen alongside such incredibly talented film-makers. The festival circuit has given me a jumping off point for distribution, sales, additional festivals, and the flip side of having everything virtual this year means that films aren’t only available for local, in-person audiences.

Most festivals are geo-blocked to their entire country, AFI Docs for instance, is geo-blocked to the US, so in theory they’re casting a much wider net. I’m really interested to see how this year affects subsequent festival years in terms of online availability both for films and industry programming.

FTVN: What issues and themes would you like to explore in your future work?

LP: I’m increasingly interested in transgressing the boundary between fiction and non-fiction, so I’m heading a bit more in that direction in my personal work these days. I naturally gravitate toward centering women’s voices and perspectives, and I don’t think that will change any time soon.

I’ve also always been interested in interrogating singular truths, exploring multiple points of view, and examining taboos—all of which continue to be true whether I’m working on experimental exploratory or more traditional/commercial projects.

FTVN: Diversity and gender are big themes and concerns in the entertainment industry at present. What are your dreams and hopes for the future?

LP: I want more films by BIPOC film-makers, more stories by and about gender non-conforming individuals, more centering of women’s voices and experiences of all shapes, sizes, colours, and ages.

I am so excited to be watching, writing, and making films right now because there has been such a dearth of varying experiences and perspectives in our industry and the tide is finally turning. My hope is that it’s unstoppable. My dream would be that diversity and equality—behind and in front of the camera—become the norm.

FTVN: How has the global situation affected your development and evolution as a film-maker?

LP: This has been a strangely productive year for me. In recent years, I’ve found myself saying that I really needed the time to think and this last year kind of forced that on me.

I was able to watch more films and read more books than I normally do, and I was able to push a couple of projects that have been stewing into development, because I suddenly had some extra time to devote to them. The external world stopped making so many demands of me and so I was able to turn inwards and nurture some more personal projects.

That’s how I feel about last year on a good day. We don’t have to get into how I feel about it on a bad day.

FTVN: Finally, what are you most proud of about THE HAIRDRESSER?

LP: I’m really proud of the fact that this film doesn’t feel exploitative. I was concerned about that and I know that my DP, Jacquelyn Mills (Jacky), was concerned about it too.

It’s just such an emotionally charged and sensitive environment. One of the major unknowns was how it was going to feel to bring a camera into that space, regardless of how small our crew was or how bare-bones we were with our gear. We had to absorb development into production—there was no exploratory process regarding how it was going to feel to point the camera at someone so vulnerable.

It was just me and Jacky in terms of crew, and I was on sound, so I needed Jacky to be pretty independent with the camera. I remember at one point she turned to me and whispered, “I think we have to cut up the images, it just doesn’t feel right to hold on her face.” And she was so right.

I really have to credit Jacky for that, she has such remarkable emotional intelligence and such a light touch with the camera, I just trust her implicitly.

She saw in the moment that we needed to adapt and she just started kind of floating around the interaction between Kathleen and Madame Lalonde. I think that is such a major part of why the film feels genuine and compassionate. At least it does to me! And I hope it feels that way to audiences too.

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