Interviewed by Santiago Pacheco
Beo Lerman
Austin-based Filmmaker
The team and I at Glaze Zine had the honor to interview Austin-based filmmaker Beo Lerman to talk about their thoughts on the Austin film scene and being a queer person in the industry. Beo’s previous film, Moonrise, is a queer werewolf rom-com that won the award for the best women/non-binary directed comedy at the Poppy Jasper International Film Festival and was screened at the Austin Paramount Theater as part of the Hyperreal film club summer showcase.
What makes Austin’s art scene unique?
Austin's got a long history as an arts hub in Texas. You can look back to the punk scene in the ‘80s or even before that with Armadillo HQ. You had the Dicks, you have the Big Boys, you have all these cool people from Austin because it's the countercultural space in Texas. If you're a weirdo, you're a fuck up; if what you like isn't where you're at in Texas, you come here. And I think that means you've got diverse opinions in Austin, maybe less so now, as you have a lot of gentrification. But for a long time, you've got all these slacker creative types coming in from the rest of Texas. You've got people from El Paso, Houston, the valley. Everyone forgets about the RGV (Rio Grande Valley), but some of the coolest, most interesting, creative people I've met have been from the RGV, like McAllen, Brownsville, and moving up here from Harlingen. I think that's what shaped the attitude of this place for a long time.
Tell us a little bit about your parents who were active in the local punk scene?
My dad would draw comics every day and post them on the internet, or they'd be in the Austin Chronicle. My mom was super into the crafting scene; she still works at a craft store at Hill Country Weavers. I grew up surrounded by a lot of art that I may have taken for granted in the past but was a big creative influence. We grew up super broke. No cable, no nothing. If I was bored, my parents told me to read a book, watch a movie, or draw. So I was forced to be creative in some way to entertain myself, and I think that nurtured my admiration and participation in the arts.
With deep roots in Austin and a strong connection to its creative scene, have you ever considered relocating to a larger city like Los Angeles (LA) or New York (NY)?
The problem with moving when you've lived in one place your entire life is that you have the leg up here. I can rub it in everyone's face that I'm from here. I won't get to complain about new people if I move somewhere else. I could see myself in the future splitting time between NY and Austin or LA and Austin, but Austin is where my family is, it's where my community is, and I think if, heaven forbid, I ever become successful, I would want to help bring work and creativity to my city because I'm proud of where I'm from.
Who do you admire in the Austin film scene who are making cool things right now?
I mean, there's a lot of really cool stuff happening in Austin, like Future Front, which is a women's and queer collective. Ivy Chu, Hannah Varnell, and Angela Herr have 24 Cobras and Bloodbath Studios, and those people are doing really, really sick stuff. I like what Joey Hunt is doing. I think he's got a super cool vision for the camera — [he is a] really nice guy. Dé Randell, I like his work as well. I think he's in Mississippi right now, filming a documentary in the blues. Super cool guy. Always perfectly dressed. It's crazy; I don't know how he does it.
What are some issues that come up in the Austin film scene that could be improved on?
Overall, I would say the community is pretty supportive. There are things you could always be doing better. I do think sometimes, people will be like, ‘Oh, this is a progressive project. This is a project that's about women. This is a project about gay people.’ And they'll turn around, and they're hiring like a very heterosexual or male-oriented cast and crew. I would like to see more diversity in the stories told by the Austin film scene. I think there's still a lack of representation in Latiné or Black stories being told. I think diversity means more than just having women and queer people in front of the camera.
What has been your experience as a non-binary person in film, especially in a male-oriented area like the Grip and Electric department (G&E)?
Film is very male-dominated, and I think, unfortunately, being trans can oftentimes make things more difficult. I don't fit neatly into a box. I'm very ambiguous looking. When I pop on some sets, people assume I'm a man. When I pop on other sets, people assume that I'm a woman. And I think that being kind of androgynous and not carrying the same desirability that other people may have might make it more difficult for me sometimes. But I think overall, the Austin film community is very accepting. I’d say that for about 50% of sets, I show up, and I'd never have to explain my gender identity. People are there for it. But I think it does feel quite isolating at times. I can think of two or three other non-binary people in film that I've worked with and that's across all the departments. It's just very lonely. There's no one like me who works in G&E, and there are not a lot of people like me in general.
Tell us about your upcoming short film?
The title will either be Bubby's Seaside Shiva or just Seaside Shiva. I don't know. Titles are not my strong suit. It's a short film about what happens when you don’t like your grandma very much, and she is kind of bad, and then she dies. It's a comedy-drama about family relationships, the difference between love that you feel obligated to give and love that's genuine and comes from within. I'm shooting it in March and faking the lake for the beach. It should be fun, and I'm excited to work with people that I love and people that I haven’t worked with yet.
What lessons did you learn from Moonrise that you want to bring over this new film?
I think the biggest one is ‘better ingredients make better pizza.’ If you make a bigger budget, and you can pay the crew and rent better gear, you're gonna make a better movie. I also learned things like how to convey what I want better. As a director, it's your job to figure out what lives inside your head and how to get that out into the hands of the people who are helping you make something. And I think that just learning how to communicate what you want and learning that you have to communicate differently for different crew members. Like talking to a producer, you need to say different things to explain what you need than to an actor or a DP [director of photography].
You recently started the production company Snapdragon with your go-to DP, Ana Lorant, and producer, Tim Robins. Tell us about your company?
I've been lucky enough to direct some commercial work with it. We did a children's acting showcase for Carol Hickey Acting Studio earlier this year and then a branded doc promo shoot for Hill Country Weavers, the store my mom works at. They sell yarn. Very cool place. Ideally, you make your money from your skills, and I'd like to think that directing is one of mine.
Ever since I met you a couple of years ago, you have been politically active and continue to work toward a better society. How do you integrate political work through your art?
Everything is political. What I choose to make and how I choose to present myself as on set are all political decisions. To make films that star women or queer people in a role, that is a political act. My political identity and what I choose to do in the political sphere outside of my job influence that. Sometimes, I do feel like these two spheres are very separate. I have a very vibrant political life and creative life, and those don't necessarily touch as much as I wish they did.
Sometimes I think it's a matter of not talking about your politics to make work life easier or get that connection or whatever. I do my best to hire people I want to help bring into the film community. I'm telling a story; I want to tell a story that is important to me. A part of what is important to me is stuff that I want to see and haven't gotten to see yet. If you're going to direct something, you should ask why it is important for people to see and why am I the person who should say it. And usually, that means because you haven't seen it from someone else. I like to make stuff about queer people because I'm queer. But it's not about being queer, it's never like: point of this movie is I'm so fucking gay. The point of the movie is this is what my life is like as a queer person. And it's pretty normal- we're everyday people as well.
I got to help make some documentaries for this nonprofit, Texas Freedom Network, which just happened to be during all those student protests. So I was there filming at the protests, and that felt like a good use of my abilities. I'm not very good at chanting, and I'm not very tall, so if I hold a sign, people can't see it very well. But if I have a camera, I think I have a decent enough eye and knowledge to be useful there and get what people need to see and edit it in a way that transmits information.
Follow Beo Lerman on Instagram