"My love for films began when I was very young," says rising filmmaker Jean Chapiro. "My mom would play films for me, and I would watch them and re-watch them hundreds of times. By the time I was four, I had probably seen Mary Poppins over 100 times."
Chapiro started making her own movies by the time she was 6 years old. Growing up in Mexico City, she enlisted her brother to star in her earliest works, "and then I moved on to make little films with puppets," she recalls, "and eventually, I started asking my friends to act in the films I made."
"In filmmaking, I found a means of communicating with others and expressing myself that I couldn't achieve otherwise," she shares. "At school, I turned every assignment into a film, even physics and chemistry papers. But I saw filmmaking as a dream and not something I could really pursue."
Chapiro initially pursued journalism, but while in graduate school at the Columbia Journalism School, she was encouraged to reconnect with her passion for filmmaking and focus on finding stories that bridge the gap between entertainment and journalism. "My job is not only to use film as a vehicle to illustrate change but, most importantly, as a means that would serve the purpose of reflecting realities that would otherwise go unrecognized or would be too dangerous to expose." She is currently completing an MFA in Film at Columbia University.
Chapiro produced and directed a short documentary, Hasta Encontrarlos (Till We Find Them), about the search for missing loved ones in Mexico. The film was a documentary winner at the 50th Student Academy Awards.
"Although I hoped to reach as many people as possible with this film, I never expected to win a Student Academy Award. Getting this recognition from the Academy and becoming friends with the other winners inspired me to keep telling stories that challenge me as a filmmaker," Chapiro says.
Below, Chapiro shares with A.frame five films directed by trailblazing women whose work has had a profound impact on her and has shaped the type of filmmaker she strives to be.
"All five have become pillars of my understanding of film and my coming of age as a filmmaker," she says. "These films and directors inspired me to follow my dream and to think about filmmaking as an expansive medium with boundaries that were set only to be broken. I continuously re-watch these films to get inspired and, when times get challenging, to remind myself that there is a place for me to tell my own stories."
Written and Directed by: Lucrecia Martel
From the first scene, I realized this film was unlike anything I had ever seen. The acute sound of a chair being dragged over the pavement, ice clinking in a glass of wine, and the silenced characters facing away from a swimming pool filled me with questions. I'd never seen a film that aurally challenged me in such a way. Through its sound design, the film became a sensorial experience that invited me to fully immerse myself in the narrative.
I found the film to be an intimate portrait of a Latin American family, in which every character is intrinsically flawed and deeply human, whose absurdity and reality co-exist. The closing scene made me realize the extent to which the characters are entrapped in their dysfunctional family dynamics and the swamp they inhabit, extending far beyond its physical representation as a body of water. But most of all, La Ciénaga invited me to tell stories that transform the mundane into a deep reflection of the human experience.
Written and Directed by: Chloé Zhao
I vividly remember watching Nomadland alone in my college dorm room. I was deeply moved by the lyrical nature of the story. Its pacing allowed me to have moments of introspection. As soon as the movie ended, I realized that was exactly the type of film I would strive to make. I googled Chloé Zhao and tried to figure out the steps she took to get there, because I wanted to try and do the same. For so long, I had been grappling with the choice between making fiction or nonfiction films, and Nomadland allowed me to understand that the boundary between the two wasn't as clear-cut as I had thought. The film invited me to question the idea of telling stories that live in the often blurry line between fiction and reality. It taught me the power of allowing actions and characters to unfold naturally before the viewer's eyes, and the power of that subtlety.
Directed by: Kirsten Johnson | Written by: Nels Bangerter and Kirsten Johnson
I've always been terrified of death and dying, and during the pandemic, the fear of losing my loved ones was exacerbated. Watching this film was like therapy for me. It invited me to think about mortality from a place of playfulness and curiosity rather than fear. I cried the first time I watched the film, and I continue to do so every time I re-watch it.
Dick Johnson Is Dead also invited me to think about documentaries in a way that I didn't even know was possible. I was blown away by how the film masterfully weaved together intimate verité scenes with staged reenactments, where the 'behind-the-scenes' scenes were also made part of the film. I was also very moved by Kirsten Johnson's ability to be vulnerable in front of the camera and to share this deeply personal story with the world. Perhaps most importantly, this film inspired me to be vulnerable and unapologetically honest in the stories that I tell.
Written and Directed by: Céline Sciamma
I watched this film at Lincoln Center shortly after moving to New York. It was one of the first times that I went to watch a movie by myself — something that I've since come to love. I found the film to be deeply poetic and moving but, at the same time, simple and playful. The idea of a little girl meeting her mom when she was the same age fascinated me. It's such an inventive premise that I wish it would have happened to me in real life when I was a little girl.
The film's magical realism reminded me of the Latin American short stories and novels I grew up reading. At a time when I was feeling lonely and out of place, this film made me feel like I wasn't actually by myself. I was mesmerized by Céline Sciamma's ability to tell a fantastical tale built from mundane elements and visual atmospheres. It's a modern fairy tale about love, grief, and growing up. After leaving the theater, I was inspired to start writing a new script, connecting with my inner child and never losing sight of that part of myself.
Written and Directed by: Kaouther Ben Hania
I walked into the theater not really knowing what to expect. It was a 10:30 a.m. screening on a Wednesday, and I was the only one there, which made the viewing an even more intimate experience. From the opening of the documentary, Olfa's gaze and that of her two youngest daughters, Tayssir and Eya, penetrated beyond the screen and invited me into an intimate journey; their vulnerability allowed me to approach the film in the same way. I was granted access to a fractured family's healing journey as they came to terms with the disappearance of two other sisters.
I was impressed by Tayssir and Eya's ability to open up and their desire to heal, and I was captivated by Olfa's strength. The reenactments allowed me to partake in their personal journey, and I was deeply inspired to use documentaries as a tool to heal and transform rather than merely to chronicle. I've been thinking about this Tunisian film since I watched it. Four Daughters has expanded my understanding of documentary filmmaking, including the possibility of using actors for a hybrid cinematic experience.
