"Mothers, they do so many things and most of which we don't see," says filmmaker Karen Chapman, "and so many times they do this by withholding themselves from themselves."
The sense of withholding oneself for the betterment of others is at the forefront of Village Keeper, Chapman's film about a single mother, Beverly-Jean (Olunike Adeliyi), struggling to stay afloat as the weight of past traumas attempts to pull her and her family down like an unremovable anchor.
A mother herself, Chapman was intrigued by how her own mother managed to wear so many hats from filling the home with laughter to being the emotional support for everyone. Using the film as a microscope, Village Keeper peers into what it means to give so much of oneself to others when one's own energy has been siphoned away by a rut of anger. "I wanted to locate what this seemingly endless reservoir of care looked like and what does it look like when the reservoir is dry," notes the director.
In exploring a mother who is trying but not necessarily succeeding, Chapman's film is as much about care as it is about the ways generational trauma can keep one in a vicious cycle. The simple but crucial act of Beverly-Jean going to therapy is presented as both a pathway to healing and an act of courage. Chapman wanted to include therapy as an option to help break the class and societal stigmas around seeking outside assistance. As she points out, in Caribbean culture especially, basic economics and the notion of not airing one's family business out loud can be roadblocks to getting counselling.
"I wanted to challenge the shame around mental health and trying to access mental health care," Chapman continues. "I wanted to turn it on its head in a way and encourage this character, [and] hopefully other people to see it not as a failure, but as a means of trying something new when nothing is working."
Finding ways to move past grief and trauma has been a throughline in many of Chapman's documentaries, including Quite Minds Silent Streets (2022) and Walk Good (2016). "I think in some ways all of my films speak to one another" notes the filmmaker.
While one can see some parallels between Beverly-Jean and Carole Roache, the inspiring mother at the centre of Walk Good who perseveres despite great tragedy, it is Black women's capacity to carry multiple things at once that interest the director the most. "I wanted to examine the dynamics of our grief because it's not all darkness. Even on the worst day of your life, the sun will come out and the birds will be out," she reflects. "I don't think anything is in a vacuum, and I was really interested in playing with those themes."
By focusing on a woman who is not doing well but still has access to the simple pleasures in life, such as a slice of cake and family meals, Chapman avoids many of the trappings one might expect from this type of film. The various acts of violence that shape the outer margins of the story, often referenced in flashbacks, never consumes the film. Village Keeper is more fascinated with the process of breaking free of the pain that keep Beverly-Jean, and her kids, tethered to the past, rather than plunging viewers into those acts in real time. "I'm less interested in seeing the thing that happened and more interested in how our wounds grow around the thing. How we heal and how we don't heal," Chapman explains.
Observing how meticulously constructed the filmmakers' approach to pain and healing is, it is almost unfathomable to believe that it all came in such a short span. Made for $200,000, the film was shot in only 12 days while Chapman was eight and a half months pregnant. Similar to the film's title, it took a village to pull it all off, especially since they did not have time or money for rehearsals. "This film was very much a labour of love, a labour of community, and the labour of 'I think I can,'" she remarks.
The short timeframe meant that everything had to happen swiftly. The actors only had one or two takes to nail their scenes while going through eight or nine pages a day. A lot of the filming, including moments when Beverly-Jean was on the subway, were shot live.
"We had to quickly get in a groove of maneuvering around the city where we could quietly communicate with one another [without] interfering with the scene that's happening." Chapman recalls. Thanks to many phone calls and online chats before the shoot, the director was able to communicate her vision and expectations for both the performances and overall look of the film.
It helped that Chapman had Jordan Oram (When Morning Comes, Spiral, The Porter), a brilliant Canadian cinematographer, as her director of photography on the shoot. "He is one of the best cinematographers around right now," enthuses Chapman. "He understood the challenges that we faced and adapted so quickly."
She points out Oram also had a camera team of newcomers whom he was constantly teaching on the job, as many people on the crew had never made a film before. This sense of coming together and engaging in a process that was both communal and somewhat rebellious nicely mirrors one of the film's most visually and emotionally striking moments at the Toronto Caribbean Carnival.
For Chapman it was crucial to have the event formerly known as Caribana included in the film, despite the logistical challenges. "It was important to me to have this experience that's so deeply rooted in rebellion, in Caribbean rebellion and resistance, on the streets of Lake Shore." She adds that it was just as important for "[Beverly-Jean], who spent a life sheltering herself and her children, to experience this, to dance on the street with strangers." The sequence was one of many examples where the filmmaker's judgement paid off.
Coming from a documentary background, Chapman already knew how to sit in a space and pull emotion from it. However, one thing that making a dramatic feature gave her was a deeper trust in her instincts as a filmmaker. She cites getting Maxine Simpson, a retired ICU nurse who had never acted before, to play the pivotal role of Beverly-Jean's mom in the film as one of these moments. "I knew she has this presence that makes everyone around her feel comfortable." Chapman notes. Despite the objections of others — who were pushing for a professional actor to play off Olunike Adeliyi, even of it meant using makeup to age the person — the director stayed true to her vision.
These singular choices ensure that Chapman's distinct voice is heard throughout Village Keeper. Despite the adversities that came with making the emotionally rich film, it is clear the project was made with love from all involved.
"It was such a challenge, but we generally had so much fun, and I just learned so much," Chapman notes, reflecting on the experience with fondness. "It was a beautiful thing to see ... folks who never made a film before running down the streets of Toronto making a movie. It was awesome."