Primavera Sound (2024)

Tuesday (5/28)

It’s 4am. It’s dark. Mathilde stands frozen in the bathroom. Staring intently into the mirror, into her own soul, onto last nights Dalston shenanigans and the countless Aperols that had only been drunk 3 hours prior. There’s no air of regret but one thing we are certain of: Mathilde is still very very drunk. Primavera has begun early.

In line to board and upon arrival at the terminal you can tell precisely who is arriving in Barcelona for the same reason, but they still look notably different. A vast lineup means a vast demographic of fans: Y2K goths, Bristol seniors in Deftones merch, a number of girls in crochet dresses who look questionably underage, tattooed millennials, rich girls who read as insta-entrepreneurs, between 9 and 13 mullets; all united, under one sky and one holy RyanAir flight (presumably blessed by the priest I eyed down at security), waiting in the same customs line.

“I feel like this is going to be one of those trips where we have to just let go and…. Be cringe.” Humbled we were — 10 minutes later trembling in the cab, unable to take our eyes off the meter that seems to be increasing by 2 euros every. minute. Are we, too, just as susceptible as our fellow Primavera cohort? We may not have mullets but the leather jackets, sunglasses and cigarettes in hand, American and British accents combined with Mathilde’s French haven’t exactly made us incognito. But hey, we’re in Barcelona, who cares!

12 hours in and we have absolutely lost our minds. We meet actress and fabulosa Lilia Gabbro at the opening of ‘Dear Inn,’ an exhibition featuring and curated by her boyfriend, Dahli Ball, and friends Unai Ricou and Igna Buneri three floors up in an open loft in the town center. Visitors sit on the furniture-less floor smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. The three artists' works are displayed throughout the space. Dahli’s pieces are shockingly impressive; straight out of a time capsule cleared out with a fresh set of eyes. We’ve all developed some metaphorical TMJ from having our jaws dropped for 12 hours straight. How is EVERYONE here SO hot and SO happy? How are all of these beautiful people tucked into these tiny streets? They seem to be breathing life into one another.

Wednesday (5/29)

The sun is out and The Vincci Bit has served Mathilde and I possibly the sexiest hotel breakfast we’ve ever had. 7 coffees in and I’m writing on the Vincci roof terrace in my bikini. I look over to Liv, who’s laying on a sun lounger on the phone, telling the recipient “to just reel back and let the vibes take over.” Liv pops back to the room and finds Mathilde meditating on the bed. The Barca lifestyle has truly taken over and we haven’t stepped foot in the Parc del Forum.

But reality always manages to find its way back — this time in the form of my very red sunburn, proving my role as designated ‘Brit abroad.’ If it wasn’t already the broken attempts to speak Spanish with a Manchester accent, it is extremely clear now — we do no good job at blending in.

We walk into Poblenou for a pre-Primavera spritz — or more exactly Estrella for Liv, Aperol for Mathilde, and Sangria for myself. It’s an area close to where we’re staying and recommended by our Barcelona spirit-guide Lilia.

8:30 PM rolls around and it’s time for night 1 Primavera. We take the scenic route along the coastline to get to Parc del Forum. An incredible and tacky in its finest form marriage proposal is happening on the beach… we are feeling the Barcelona love tonight.

9:19 PM we arrive amidst floods of Spanish teens in baggy jeans and tanks, hippy holidayers in bird shirts and garish pants and Berlinified mullet-heads clad in all black and leather. There are SO many hot guys at the Aperol pop-up. Mullet no.1 is spotted in its badly bleached glory accompanied by a fellow turquoise-dyed head. We march on with one mission in mind: Aperol.

All we can now think of is stripes. Classically French, vertical, red and black, blue and white, on tank tops, long sleeves, dresses and pants — stripes are the unexpected Primavera trend. Bleached denim. Tracksuits. Adidas stripes. Emo teens with their eyeliner. Mullet gays and their white tanks.

In planning a press trip to an international festival, we failed to consider the fact we had to get quotes from people who are presumably not native English speakers. We pile together our resources: French Mathilde plus Liv and I’s pieced-together high school Spanish. Thank the lord for Duolingo which Liv has been practicing routinely on the sun loungers each morning. With a Spritz in each hand, all felt right in the world.

Mullets 2,3,4,5 and 6 are ahead of us in the queue. And what a range we have stumbled upon. Bleached and brown curly-haired ones stuffed under caps and paired with denim overalls. Behind us, a certain bleach blonde mullet signals the Berlinification of Primavera — dressed in all black, sunnies and completed with a mustache.

Phoenix begins their set as we reach the front of the Aperol queue. ‘It’s ok, as long as they don’t start with Lisztomania’… And like clockwork, it plays. We run off to the stage — pissed off the Aperol, dizzy from the heatstroke or just pure adrenaline, I don’t know — we manage to squash ourselves into the crowd. People are giddy and dancing to the band’s nostalgic 2010s sounds — you can’t not love it. A man behind us bald with a thick mustache loses 10 years as he leaps into the sky up and down like a boy. They tell us this is their favourite festival. Liv is absolutely going for it. Mathilde realises that, like her, they are French hotties “and now I’m really into it”. And hotties they are — Silver Fox Thomas Hedlund dominates the drums in a Hawaiian shirt. Liv says all she wants is for someone to pick her up and ‘spin her around like a pizza’. Thomas, drummer of Phoenix, is more than capable of this.

Wednesday night is a celebration, a party of letting go, the perfect starting headliner to Primavera’s insane line-up.

The true star of night one, however, is Mathilde who braved the crowds in open-toe heels. What courage and bravery it takes, and in hindsight will never be taken again.

The set ends and Mathilde’s heels are now on my feet as she darts in and around the food tents in my gold converse. Freed from toe suffocation, she is high on life, on adrenaline, flirting with the burger man and nicking all of the mayo from the kebab shop. Burgers and bed.

Lessons of the day:

1. Learn how to apply sun cream properly
2. Don’t wear open-toed heels to a festival
3. Watch out for people wearing open-toe heels at a festival
4. Gabi’s hair must always be in a ponytail at the festival
5. You don’t need a biker jacket in 80-degree weather

Thursday (5/30)

The start of Primavera day 2 — which no surprise involves sangria, bocadillos and matching I <3 Barcelona thongs. Vampire Weekend boyfriend and Deftones girlfriend walk past us at the cafe. Mathilde spots her airport crush as we pass through the Press entrance — “He looks like Peter Pan in a hot way”.

Entering the festival, one thing is clear to us: steer clear of the kebab shop. Mathilde is surely a wanted woman after last night's mayo shenanigans.

We are strutting around the site to the soundtrack of Renaldo & Clara. It’s pretty early still but we’re easing into the day. With a hefty lineup we’ve set our sights on Freddie Gibbs & Mad Lib, the post-punk chaos of Amyl & the Sniffers, an interview lined up with Chino of Deftones, ending the night with the party girl sounds of Peggy Gou. What a day to be had.

We take a turn of the festival, passing through the amphitheater-like Cupra stage (where I mistake Arab Strap for a Belle and Sebastian song) we follow a ramp down to the sea. A dome-like metal structure has drawn crowds of TikTok techno goth kids, mullets with biker sunnies, countless fans and tank tops, hypnotised by the purple-white glowing BOILER ROOM sign beckoning them in. These kids know how to have a good time. In a form of ritualistic worship with DJ Negro pres. The Noise at the center. We know this crowd won’t be seeing the sun this weekend.

Parc del Forum, in its combination of concrete structuring topped with mega solar panels, sea-facing pop-up islands and many a ramp reminds me of going for a jog on Wii Sports. All sorts of Miis passing us by, some heavily stylized in a just-walked-out-of-a-Y2K-music-video type of way, a group of gays in matching neon pink caps, and Deftones T-shirts galore.

Freddie Gibbs and Madlib killed it for their 10-year anniversary Piñata show. Gibbs attempts to leave the stage three times despite his surrendering return to hysterical cries from the crowd. ‘Why is he so fucking hot?’ A British guy next to me shouts ‘he’s the coolest guy I ever seen’.

Fur boots have managed to sneak their way into the Primavera’s styled crowds. A bleach-blonde girl with knee-high yeti boots stomps past us — surely her feet are not ok. Fashion is pain I suppose?

Amyl and the Sniffers arrive on stage in a clash of sounds that makes the crowd absolutely wild. Mosh pits open up as we speed off out of the crowd, part protecting Mathilde’s camera, and off to collect our passes to interview Chino of Deftones.

We are granted golden tickets in the form of artist wristbands in order to be escorted to meet the beloved Deftones frontman, Chino Moreno. Packed into a tight artist trailer, we delve into our oddly intuitive superstitions, the politics of the red pill, hotel coffee machines, and cowboy hats. We bid adieu to Chino as we anxiously await his reappearance a few hours from now, this time however separated by the Amazon Music stage.

It is always a pleasure to be backstage, but what better way to be reminded than a physical trophy of the experience? We bump into the one and only Rex DeTiger — keeper of custom business cards — backstage while he prepares to go on with Roosevelt. Fue un placer conocerte entre bastidores en Primavera Sound 2024. A pleasure it is, Rex, and a pleasure it will always be.

“Press has never been sexier” Liv shouts as we dance our asses off at L’Imperatrice. Clad in space-age silver gilets with glowing orbs on the chests and shoulders this set is groovy AF. Mathilde is now the one jumping up and down like a little boy. This is a sexy show. Transporting us into some alternative French disco universe, we are hooked by the band’s illuminating power (not to be confused with the glowing orbs clad on their shoulders). “L’Imperatrice are the best and that’s why I came here” Barcelona native Silvia tells me. She has come to Primavera to see two French artists — Justice being the other. This crowd is having the time of their lives, communicating through emoji language: peace signs, hearts, flicking their wrists to the French space siren sounds. ALLEZ ALLEZ ALLEZ. Hysterical is an understatement. This is one huge disco.

Suddenly, we are gunning it back to the Amazon Music stage — Deftones hosted the most hardcore fanbase of the festival so far. Headbanging in a perfect synchronization that would suggest a melody somewhere deep into the clashing sounds that if you know, you know. Chino’s stage presence is hypnotic and borderline cultish. Enraptured, we are in the pit. The front row embraces us. We’re evidently not dressed in the uniform of Deftones t-shirts, black eyeliner, some crazy tone of hair dye or bleach, and bondage-styled tops; yet somehow we manage to fit right in, bound by the collective and somehow coordinated practice of head-banging.

Before we know it, we’ve run across the festival grounds to Pulp. “My name’s Jarvis and I love Barcelona” the singer’s Sheffield twang rings out to the crowd. In an overwhelming display of showmanship, Cocker flocks about the stage dancing like your gay uncle on Christmas. It is a light show soundtracked by a full-on orchestra who he refers to as ‘some very very common people’ (?!?!). Returning for an encore, he throws sweets and grapes into the audience in classic grandpa behavior. It’s a midnight set and the all-aged crowd is absolutely loving it. We are dancing to ‘Common People’ in the VIP area.

2:00 AM on the dot, Peggy Gou took what was left of my soul. Her set unleashed the party girl I didn’t know I still had in me. Dancing into the photo pit like it was nobody’s business, it becomes very clear that it was in fact not our business, as we were politely escorted out and placed back into our rightful place — the GA pit. An Insta DJ in her natural habitat, all the baby tees and bralette crowds have amassed, party-protected by their skinny sunnies and chunky silver jewelry, all wrapped around her finger.

4:00 AM We peel Mathilde from the crowd, this girl is running on pure adrenaline and this moment. We trek back to the Vincci bit and prepare ourselves for tomorrow.

Friday (5/31)

Gasping awake, my sinuses are broken, air-con or beer or cigarettes, all I am sure of is that I am physically weak. Solo missions take me to the blue cafe for an omelet, coffee, coke, juice, and a pack of Camel Blues: every hangover cure rolled into one.

If yesterday can be summed up by our I <3 Barcelona panties, VIP sexiness, and hardcore Deftones head banging, Friday was the day/night of I <3 Sex thongs, the Lana del Stampede, and Snow Strippers.

Smirnoff Ice in one hand, all-access artist wristband on the other, we glide past the long press queue into the venue. We head to meet SCOWL, hardcore punk band hailing from Santa Cruz, to chat briefly and grab some portraits, all whilst crammed in amidst the tiled backdrops of their glamorous dressing room showers.

5:15 PM Post-SCOWL and we are heading towards the Estrella Damm stage when a guy stops us asking where Lana will be playing. This was Mohammad, 23 from Egypt and living in Germany who came to Primavera alone just for Lana. She is on in five hours and he is heading right now to camp out at the stage; He hopes it’s not too crowded, ‘I want to be on the front row if possible.’ As we pull up to the entrance of the stage it becomes immediately clear that Mohammad will most likely not be making it to the front row. Thousands of Americana-clad Lana fans are sardined and cordoned off at each entrance, barely contained by the security as tensions and anticipation start to rise. We wish Mohammad good luck as he sprints off into the distance, ‘Chemtrails over the Country Club’ bouncing up and down his back getting further and further away from us.

Day 2 is LanaFest, we’re Lana del Afraid. Barriers open and a herd of prairie dresses, ribbons, bow, red black and white lace and heart shaped sunglasses come stampeding right at us. They’re young, they’re wild, they’re free. “We’re gonna get stampeded by little girls!” Liv screams. A guy breaks free of the security barriers, running for his life through the field — ‘Be Free’ is emblazoned on his back, arms in the air. Little Lana fairies are fleeing into all corners. Lace, veils, cherries and flower crowns unite under one shared mission of waiting out the following five hours together. God bless any band that dares play before Lana.

5:45 PM In the thick of the crowds and Mohammad passes us by — he’s gone to the wrong stage! We wish him well once more as he again flees off into the mist of the crowd - a literal mist as dust clouds produced by masses of cowboy boots. The crowd is filling up and we decide this isn’t our battle to fight today. We are Lana del Done for Now.

Over at the Cupra stage, the Lana del Strays gather — a London-style crowd with edgier pairings of prairie skirts with tight-fit football jerseys, cowboy boots and more clips than hair, sacrificing their front row pitches for The Last Dinner Party. Lead singer Abigail Morris prances around the stage like a new-wave queer second coming of Jesus Christ.

We meet DJ Spanish Fly backstage, and upon greeting us he hands us each a custom sticker from a pile he’s got ready in the pocket of his full Puma tracksuit. Checkerboard stripes up the legs and arms and whistle round the neck, we were blessed by his grounding presence — our Primavera priest sending us on our way into the dark and unholy night…

Yet again darting across the festival, we pack ourselves into the already full capacity VIP deck as we prepare to be submerged in pure ecstasy for Troye Sivan B2B Lana del Rey. Hell yeah.

Next thing we know, we are surrounded by the hottest gay men in Spain. Did Miuccia Prada fly them all out and deliver them directly to the VIP section of Troye Sivan’s set? These are some of the sexiest and most crisp-dressed men we have ever seen. A “Gay Psy-Ops” as Dorian Electra perfectly puts it during our interview the next day. Do they all know each other? Are they staying on some magical island that only gorgeous gay men know of? As Troye performs his last song by making out with one of his back-up dancers in leather chaps, it becomes clear that “there’s no worse feeling than being horny around gay men.” Suddenly, and unironically, we have found ourselves searching for the Lana del Straights.

Summing up Lana’s show: she is an incredibly beautiful and angelic being who made me and Liv cry and blessed our souls in the 40 minutes she graced us with her presence. Mathilde pissed herself, Liv tried to. We meet Brendan (NYC) and Lara (Toronto) in the VIP deck. ‘She is the people’s princess!’ Lara tearfully exclaims at the end of the set. ‘La loca chica’ Brendan chimes back.

Snow Strippers is absolute mania. The electroclash high-speed sounds are popping off in the Warehouse x Dice stage — an underground parking garage — a rave surrounded by the hardcore crowd merging mullets, black sunnies, and tanks with pops of neon pink and green.

Paying 3 euros for a glass of water was a sober slap in the face as we left with the intention of shooting the Arca crowds and found ourselves bumping into some Lana del Straights in the form of 2 Danish boys who tell us they are here on one mission: Looking for Lana.

They call us the ‘discount girls.’ Maybe they’re right? We have managed to finesse our way through this whole festival. Backstage, VIP areas, we’ve been living our best lives. Toilet queues? Entrance queues? Do we even know what that means anymore?

The night ended in utter chaos and loss of composure and of each other — soundtracked by Arca.

Saturday (6/1)

Feeling feral today. Can’t quite put our finger on it but there’s a specific energy in the air.

We meet office alum Dorian Electra, who absolutely shifts our states and puts us in the best of moods. We were dying and Dorian brought us back to life through a discourse on weird sex dreams and ambien horror stories, all whilst confined to a glass box directly adjacent to the festival admissions gates titled the ‘Press Hub.’

There’s a lot of I <3 logos knocking about today: Barcelona, boobs, hot moms, hot dads, NY, MCR… People are keeping it simple and sweet for the final day.

We find our way to Boiler Room Backstage, where we meet Tati and Graham of Snow Strippers, taking shelter behind the VIP bar. Nick Leon joins us. We’re cut short with thunderstorms six miles away.

“I don’t wanna live like common people” Liv shouts out into the night as the bouncers shepherd everyone from the VIP crowd. How the tables truly have turned for us.

We battle the storm through the last of the lineup: Bikini Kill, Channel One and Charli XCX. I become the designated festival boyfriend, Northern roots kicking in like I was waterproof. Donated and swapping out my jeans and long sleeve for Mathilde and Liv’s mini-skirts and strappy tops – like a game of musical chairs, we traded pants and tops as the night saw fit... In fact, between the three of us Saturday night saw three outfit swaps until the power of Charli frees Liv of pants completely and we lose ourselves in the crowd of Primavera’s final set.

The festival ends for us as all festivals tend to — a blackout. Due to the rain, we lose all photographic evidence at this point in order to protect the cameras.

The next morning we crawl into the lift to find ‘Welcome to Primavera’ removed from the mirror… (like it never happened?)...

Having sought out recovery in a ham and cheese sandwich, we dare make our way into central Barcelona and hole up in the bliss of Antic Teatre’s hidden garden. There we meet London-based Eric, Daniel and Nikky for some post-Primavera cervezas. Sharing Primavera highlights, they too obsessed over L’Imperatrice, however one individual stood out to them: “The Arca Demon Twink” (ADT abbreviated). The ADT was ‘tiny’, ‘gorgeous’ and giving Timothee Chalamet vibes. The ADT is unforgettable. The ADT has become incorporated into their everyday speech, ‘Don’t go ADT on me tonight.’ Who are you, Arca Demon Twink?

Culture

Amir Hamja Makes A Bang

June 25, 2024

Almost 7 years ago, Amir Hamja left his home country of Bangladesh, traveling 7,870 miles to pursue a career in photography in New York City. What began as a leap of faith turned into the beginning of a rewarding career — one built brick by brick, cemented with a mortar of dedication, resilience, and passion.

A creative force and recent New York Times fellow, his portfolio contains snapshots of pivotal moments in recent history, like the Black Lives Matter protests and rallies for Palestine, as well as captivating portraits of prominent pop-cultural figures such as Julia Fox, Novak Djokovic, Lola Tung, and Quentin Tarantino — not to mention his stint as Hasan Minhaj’s photographer for the hit Netflix show Patriot Act.

By Isha Sharma
Photos by Amir Hamja, courtesy of the New York Times

As a student enrolled in pharmacy school in Bangladesh, Hamja became bewitched by foreign films, binge-watching the likes of Korean indie Bandhobi and Italian drama-comedy Cinema Paradiso. Therein began his love for cinematography and, by proxy, photography. He became wholly dedicated to the craft, obsessively immersing himself in the realm of color, texture, light, and composition. With the ability to exaggerate or enhance details that would have otherwise been overlooked, Hamja brings the subtleties of everyday life into sharp focus. By the end of his NYTimes fellowship, his work was featured on 18 covers and four front pages.

Hamja and I hopped on FaceTime one evening in June, and from his sun-soaked Greenwich Village fire escape, he walked me through the trajectory of his career and what it takes to be (what I consider) a legend in the making.

I can imagine that leaving your home country for an unknown place is a daunting endeavor. Who or what did you leave behind in Bangladesh?

Honestly, it's not about who I was leaving behind — it's more about the timing. I’d already tried twice to get a visa to the United States and it kept getting denied. So when the third time came around, I was already working with our prime minister in Bangladesh on a big biographical documentary. I was very happy with how my life was going back home. After my school increased funding for their portion of the scholarship to the International Center of Photography (ICP), I was able to apply again and suddenly got the visa. I needed to move quickly since I was already late to join the ICP orientation. I literally prepped everything in 7 days and just jumped. I’d studied pharmacy and one of the senior students was like a brother. He always believed in me and had moved to NYC after graduating. It was the only person I knew in the city so if he didn’t answer my call, I didn’t know where I’d be staying. It was do or die. I stayed on his couch for almost a month until I figured out my own space.

See, that’s why I love South Asian culture: everyone becomes family.

Yeah, I can always count on him. Even now, I can call him and go stay at his place.

Pharmacy and photography couldn’t be further apart on the spectrum of careers. When did you get interested in photography?

I finished pharmacy school because I didn’t have any other option but I knew, in the second year, that I was going to be a filmmaker. I was watching a crazy amount of movies during that time and felt like it was something I really wanted to be a part of. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was but slowly figured it out. Color. Light. Composition. The way the camera moves. It was all so exciting. So I made a plan. I downloaded a bunch of eBooks and learned that if you want to be a cinematographer, you need to be a good photographer first. I taught myself everything. I figured everything out on my own.

You’re a hustler! Did you, at any point, think about quitting?

No, there is not a single moment in my life when I thought about quitting or doing something else. This is it. This is what I want to do. I don’t care about anything else.

What’s it like to know exactly what you want to do? How does that feel inside?

It’s like having tunnel vision, which has its pros and cons. I never tried any other art form after that. Maybe I’d be good at something else but I wouldn’t know. I never wanted to try because I was so focused on my own goal. Early on I knew I wanted to have 100 percent ownership of my own life. I want to make my bread and butter — everything — from film.

When you’re on the road, what can’t you live without in your kit? What are you always carrying with you?

Most of the time I carry a 50mm lens. However, nowadays things have changed. The way I see things has changed. I’m happy just going around with my phone or using any camera.

What about when you’re looking through a lens — how do you know when it’s the right moment?

Sometimes you try to read about the subject before. Who is the person? What do they do? Do a little research so you can have some sort of conversation with them. From there you can build your vision. If I can scout the location before, that’s great. But on set, when I’m shooting, things change. Suddenly, I see some light or a wall or something. It’s all random —- I cannot control those elements.

You recently wrapped up a prestigious fellowship at the NYTimes. What will you tackle next?

I want to shoot more portraits. More art and culture-related work. I’d love to push myself towards magazines more.

Do you have any advice for aspiring photographers out there?

Figure out what you want so you’re not distracted. Once you know what you want to work on, reach out to editors right away. I did it in my own crazy way: emails or DMs on Instagram and LinkedIn. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it backfired.

But you also need to wait for your moment. When you know that you have good work. Don’t reach out with average work — reach out when you’re ready. The way people get assignments has changed now. All of the photo editors I know are active on Instagram. They’re always looking for new photographers. There’s no one way.

You just need to have the passion and the drive.

Yeah, because it’s your world. You need to figure out what you want from this world and what it’s made out of for you.

Culture

Harley Chamandy Will Not Let Cinema Die

June 24, 2024

There’s an evocative synergy that film shares with music, and Harley Chamandy has been trying to properly encapsulate that feeling for all his life. The 24-year-old Montreal-born filmmaker straddles an innate attachment to both mediums. At 17, he was the youngest invitee of Werner Herzog’s Black Factory Cinema Workshop in Cuba, working under the tutelage of an esteemed pioneer, cutting his teeth with 54 other auteurs-in-training. With a healthy catalog of wistful short films by age 22, Chamandy crafted his debut feature film, Allen Sunshine, across two weeks in southeastern Quebec. Through the musical recordings of its eponymous protagonist, Allen Sunshine is a story of friendship in the wake of loss, using its ambient score as a device for emotional rumination.

By Olivier Lafontant
Photo by Jetro Emilcar

The polarizing values of seclusion and companionship in Allen’s life are accentuated by the nature of his environment: placid woodlands, serpentine pathways, a big, blue body of water. When I connect with Chamandy through Zoom, he’s eager to contextualize the journey behind the biggest piece of his young career, delving into the myriad of unrelated influences threaded into his process. At the core of his desire for artistic fulfillment is an unfettered admiration for Chief Keef, who, like Herzog, turned precocious spontaneity into world class artistry, infinitely imitated. Last year, Allen Sunshine was the recipient of the TRT First Cut+ Award at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival in the Czech Republic. This July, Chamandy will be in Germany for its world premiere at the Munich International Film Fest.

The way Chamandy describes Allen Sunshine is like a soccer dad raving about his daughter who plays striker for the school team; the sheer level of pride shines through immensely. Across half an hour, Harley Chamandy goes into detail about the subtleties that make up Allen Sunshine, what he’s learned about the film industry so far, and the use of music as a storyteller.

Olivier Lafontant— Allen Sunshine largely centers around the life of an ambient music producer and former record executive. Where did the inspiration for this come from?

Harley Chamandy— It all began with an artist named Ethan Rose who did all the music for my film. He’s an electronic artist who did music for Gus Van Sant’s Paranoid Park (2007) and Showing Up (2022) by Kelly Reichardt. One day when I was in high school I had his album called Ceiling Songs and it made such a strong impression on me that I kept listening to it every day, and it sort of got me into that world of that music. When I was writing this script, I always knew that it had to be that type of music, I just didn’t know that I’d be able to work with my favorite artist, Ethan Rose. I was playing his music the whole time while writing the script and once I finished it, I reached out to him [by] cold email ‘cause that’s my thing and you never know what will happen. He really liked the relationship with Allen to the music and that’s something he really wanted to take on, and he thought that was an interesting challenge for him as an artist. I really think [ambient music] is the most introspective form of art and of music, and I really thought that I had never seen that in film, you know, someone really making art for themselves. In a larger context, I think that electronic music is an artform that’s really for the self and what can happen with the instruments. It’s never really about thinking about the consumer, which I was very interested in.

Yeah, especially with Allen in the movie. There’s the scene where his brother sees his studio and asks him what it’s for, and Allen tells him that it’s only for himself. How do you feel like the music itself informs the narrative of the film? How does it represent Allen as a character?

Well I definitely think that it’s a tool that’s used to display the introspection of the character––how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking about––without having to say anything. Just through the music we can understand his state of mind, and how he’s feeling about things. After the brother comes, the music is way more somber, and then when he hangs out with Bill, the man who comes with the fruits and veggies, there’s something more uplifting and optimistic. I thought it was so interesting to play with the headspace of the character in regards to the music.

Considering this is your debut feature film, what are some of the challenges that came with fleshing out a script across 80 minutes or so?

Literally everything you could imagine. They say don’t work with dogs, don’t work with kids, don’t work with fire, don’t work on the water; I literally chose to do all of it. Plus we shot it on film which was another crazy challenge because we shot in Canada, two hours from the city where we were developing, so we had someone drive the film back every day. I think the biggest challenge really was getting people to believe in a young filmmaker. I made the film at 22 and [had to gain] people’s trust, not just on the financial side of things but also on the creative level. Making a film is very challenging but also very rewarding.

You mention shooting it on film and I noticed that within the narrative itself, a lot of the items and tools used in Allen Sunshine are analog: Allen’s music equipment, his film camera, even the housephones. Why did you feel like it needed to be in a time period that represented that?

That was a huge part of the film. I always had this feeling that I wanted all my films to feel timeless, like there was no way to feel what the time period would be. When I was developing the visual language and shooting on film, we had a production designer, but I was so specific on finding my props on eBay and I feel like every little detail mattered so, so much: the color of the housephone, what kind of camera he was using (a Contax G2 ‘cause I think that’s the nicest looking camera), all the synthesizers––that was one of the biggest challenges of the film because it’s so hard to find this gear. I spoke to a lot of costume designers before doing the film and no one could understand what I was trying to say, so I worked with my girlfriend who has never done costume designing before, but she almost spoke the same language as me in terms of what I was trying to get out.

There’s a real pervasive sense of subtlety that moves the plot along and the majority of the narrative is informed through context clues and vague dialogue. Why do you think it was important for the narrative to be presented that way?

I just think that so much art these days made by young people or for young people is so in-your-face and always very edgy and out there. I think that’s totally cool, but I wanted to have a refreshing sensibility for my generation and I wanted to evoke more of a nuance in terms of the sensitivity of dialogue and how to approach things, and really ask the viewer to slow down. That was a really big thing for me. To be honest it’s something I’ve been chasing for so long, this type of feeling.

Does the overarching theme of grief and mourning derive from personal loss? What drives you to write and direct films of this nature?

I never thought the film was a film about grief, but I really thought it was a film about love and what it means to live without it. That’s always how I wanted to approach it. I know on the surface it’s a film about grief, but to me it’s about finding love in new forms. It’s a film about reawakenings, and finding new outlooks on life, and what happens after loss.

How do the characters you write derive from the characteristics of the people in your life, if at all?

Well if we get really deep into the subconscious, I grew up with a mother who’s a musician. I grew up coming home every day [seeing her] in the studio making music. I never looked at it that way, but I think those are always characters I’ve been inspired by: people that were doing their own thing in their own way. Maybe Allen comes from that. But I’ve also been fascinated by the big mogul kinda characters that also have this really artistic side to them, but we never really see it in the media. I think we haven’t really seen that type of character in a film before: a very rich, successful music industry guy who’s also making ambient, super alternative stuff. I thought that was a really cool juxtaposition. I guess with the kids, I feel like we’ve all grown up with the chubby kid with the long hair. It's almost like everyone kinda knew these people somehow or some way.

What was it like submitting Allen Sunshine to the Karlovy Vary International film festival?

I was part of this lab called First Cut lab which is run by this amazing person, Matthieu Darras. Many of the films go on to play Cannes and Venice and the major film festivals, and I was lucky enough to be a part of it. Then they have First Cut+ lab in Karlovy Vary, Czech Republic, which is where we meet with mentors and sales agents, and then we pitch our movie to 300 people. There were eight [finalists] and the jury picked what they felt was the best film. Now we’re world premiering at the Munich International Film Festival in July which is super super exciting. But yeah the submission process is very challenging, especially these days where not just so much about how great of a film you make but there’s definitely a lot of politics involved. I think as a first-time filmmaker with not a lot of industry connections, it’s more difficult than I had anticipated, but I’m really grateful for the journey.

Can you describe the process, even outside of Karlovy Vary, of finishing the movie and now promoting it as much as you have even two years down the line since completion?

What I’m really grateful for is that I’m so proud of this film, I really think that it’s everything that I think cinema should be in terms of the sensitivity, the images, the dialogue. I’m really pushing what I wanted to push, which is this optimistic approach. When I announced my film I said that “to choose optimism is to choose happiness,” and I think that’s really the core of what I think the film is about in a sense. Especially as a young person, I really feel like cinema is dying, and [with] the stuff that’s coming out, people get less and less interested. I think what makes great cinema is having young artists with very strong points of view and aesthetic points of view, and not being so worried about storytelling. That’s what I really think is the downfall of cinema is that we’ve always spoken about it as storytelling, but it’s so much more than that. It’s aesthetic, it’s visual, it’s sound, it’s feeling. I think with Allen Sunshine, what I’m the most proud of is I was chasing a feeling and I wasn’t chasing a plot narrative. I was collecting images when I was 17, 18 of old images from thrift shops, and a lot of the references are high fashion and a Canadian painter named Alex Colvill. [There aren't] a lot of cinema references at all. Now to have it out, I feel like it’s a huge part of me that I’ve never been able to show to anyone.

Could you speak more on the high fashion influences? What particularly about certain fashion labels drew you to making a film like this?

I was extremely inspired by Alexander McQueen and Margiela and the way that they [have spoken] about fashion… in a sense I relate more to them than how filmmakers speak about film these days. This aesthetic point of view that they’ve pushed, this nuance––it’s the sensitivity, the details. And the way that these designers speak about things, and their lookbooks and the images… it feels like they’re always pushing things forward. I think that fashion is one of the only artforms that is always being continuously pushed, and there’s so much avant garde but there’s always commercial appeal. There’s something that I’m trying to figure out with film; is there a way to really get to [where fashion is]? Balenciaga is doing some of the craziest shit artistically, but people are still consuming it. Why can’t that work with film? I think that’s what inspired me. Even Demna, I hear him speak and it’s so inspiring to me and that’s where I’m tryna get the film stuff to go. I just watched the [John] Galliano documentary and I feel so much more inspired by these people. I wanna hear about why you chose this type of fabric, and why this photographer? They always speak about inspiration coming from these deep places and I don’t hear that as much in film. [Filmmakers] always wanna explore culturally relevant things and I’m not excited about that.

How do you envision yourself building off of the experiences garnered from the making of this film and its subsequent promotion?

I think that I learned so much about making movies that I never thought about beforehand. It’s not just about having a script and a film and people that are down to make it, but it’s also about what happens after it, the commercial aspect of it, the international interest. I wouldn’t make the film differently at all because I’m honestly so, so proud of it, but I think [from] a business [standpoint] and a larger global context, I would think about things different. Like trying to secure a more famous cast and little things, you know? You gotta have someone attached to it that’s a bit bigger. I’ve networked so much that I’ve been able to meet the head of Sundance, the head of Venice, but I’ve realized it’s a really large game and you gotta play it right, you know? I think when you’re so young and you’re so passionate, you think it’s you against the world and you wanna make these great films. Then you get to a point where you see there’s so many other factors working. It kinda opens your eyes and you’re like “Damn, I gotta think about the art ‘cause that’s what I wanna do, but how can I make the art more global? How can I get it to more people?”

Culture

MANIFESTO 2024

June 21, 2024

KALEIDOSCOPE, the biannual magazine and “almanac of contemporary aesthetics”, and GOAT had their annual arts and culture festival in Paris, coinciding with Men’s Fashion Week. It took place in Espace Niemeyer, a landmark venue originally designed by Oscar Niemeyer for the French Communist Party. It ran from June 20th to June 22nd.

The festival featured installations, videos, performances, talks, and live music. Emma dj, Fetva, Liv.e, and more took the stage to perform. The keynote speaker was the incomparable designer and performance artist Michèle Lamy, and there was art installations by Sayre Gomez, Joshua Gordon, Shuang Li, Mark Leckey, Kayode Ojo, Martine Syms, and Esben Weile Kjær.

Below, swipe through to see photos from Clipse’s opening performance for Carhartt WIP France, installations, posters, and more.