Austinist Interviews SXSW: Fish Kill Flea Directors Brian Cassidy, Jennifer Loeber and Aaron Hillis

One of the film's many ironies is that we feel bad for a community who, in a lot of ways, only exists because of the failure of another community. Should we strive to preserve culture as-is, or should we just try to ensure that something useful is passed on when a community dies?

JENNIFER: I don't have an easy answer for that—is the Roman Colliseum any more important than Madison Square Garden? Who decides, and why? The current state of affairs in the world is one of easy disposability in favor of newer and better, a constant striving to "improve." I can't fault that, in theory, so if the flea market is a phoenix rising from the flames of the Dutchess, then perhaps that death is simply another interpretation of space for the better. Time will tell. The idea of preservation and what is or isn't important to our society is the crux of what we asked ourselves while making Fish Kill Flea.

There are some characters in the film that really stand out-- the hard-nosed, cigar chomping mall owner, for example. Had you ever considered building the film as a character study, or was the idea to just give an impression of the community as a whole?

BRIAN: The Dutchess Mall itself was always intended to be the film's central figure, and in that sense, I think Fish Kill Flea is a character study. In some instances, we tried following vendors outside of the flea market environment, but in the end it didn't work—it gave a different kind of emphasis than the one we were after. The plight of the individual vendors was more of a subplot, hopefully providing greater context for the larger idea of commercial decay and an unraveling of community as a whole.

There is a scene where one of the vendors talks about the "flea market snobs" who come in to gawk at the regulars. And yet many of the regulars seem relaxed and willing to talk to the camera. Did they trust you right away? How did you build those relationships?

AARON: Thanks for noticing that little moment. We were hyper-conscious about how we might be perceived when we first walked in with cameras on our shoulders. It was pretty apparent that the deteriorating space was oozing with melancholy, so we made sure everyone who gave us their time understood our intentions before ever hitting that record button. It didn't take too long for them to warm up to us, and at some point, we became regulars ourselves. It was cool when vendors would introduce us to their friends, scout for potential interviews, or come up and ask things like, "We've been watching you for weeks, why haven't you come over and filmed us yet?" If only we could digitize footage straight from our heads, because some of the best stories and jokes I heard came from vendors when we weren't filming anything, just chatting.

How did the three of you split up directing duties? Did you have to thumb-wrestle for final cut?

BRIAN: We did thumb wrestle, but for good reason. The important thing is that we ultimately wanted to make the same film and I don't think there were any disagreements about that. A three-way collaboration is very hard. It forces one to really articulate what it is you're arguing for, and to try and become a better listener in the process.

As first time filmmakers, what is the most important thing you learned about filmmaking during this process?

AARON: Working as a critic, I'm asked to offer informed opinions about what makes for killer cinematography, and how its subtle language affects viewers in any given moment. What I don't have is a professional background in making photographic images like Brian or Jennifer, so the most valuable thing I learned was how much more difficult it is to frame a great shot than to simply recognize one. My eye has improved dramatically just collaborating with the two of them.

BRIAN: Having never worked in this medium before, everything was new. One thing I have gained during the process is a heightened faith in the surface of things. It is common practice in documentary to try and discard surfaces in hopes of reaching a deeper, more confessional interaction with subjects. In my experience so far, I have found that trying to go too deep can quickly become a fool's game. Surfaces can be used in portraiture. The key is to get just deep enough where subjects and viewers begin searching for themselves.

JENNIFER: As a photographer, I'm pretty well-versed in telling a story visually, but the added layer of sound and movement was something I looked forward to exploring. Being conscious of both, as well as structure, it was definitely a lesson in patience on my part, something I'm not very good at. Photography can sometimes be a quieter, more observational art form, while shooting this particular film was better suited to the outgoing parts of my personality.

Besides your screening, what are you most looking forward to at SXSW?

BRIAN: I am looking forward to Mike Mills' documentary about depression-culture in Japan, Does Your Soul Have A Cold?

JENNIFER: I'm excited to see Hannah Takes the Stairs, Does Your Soul Have A Cold? and Let's Get Lost.

AARON: At the top of my wish list are Hannah Takes the Stairs, American Zombie, Quiet City, Campaign, and Monkey Warfare. Between this year's Berlinale and New York press screenings, I got a jump on a few that I'd heartily recommend, including Great World of Sound, The Lookout, and Scott Walker: 30 Century Man.

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