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Before I WakeChristine Flemming and Tinshine Mont
Before I Wake explores the queer experience through the eyes of a younger sister struggling to connect with her older sister’s transformed state into adulthood and motherhood. As queer filmmakers, we are drawn to experiences and vulnerabilities that deviate from or conflict with gender norms, and to the psychological violence that arises from tensions like those: the alienation and confusion that emerge when traditional modes of womanhood embodied by family, friends, loved ones, or even strangers, no longer reflect our identity.
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Central to the narrative is the disappearance of Fang’s sister Prae. What inspired you to use the story of someone’s disappearance to explore themes of isolation, change, and the queer experience?
[Christine] Growing up, I’ve watched women in my life disappear into motherhood. If that’s framed as the natural progression of womanhood, then where does a queer person go? When you grow up in a female body, you often look to an older sister as a guide, someone who shows you how to move through the world. But as a queer person, there’s a quiet rupture when the paths available to the women you love no longer feel possible for you.
[Christine] Growing up, I’ve watched women in my life disappear into motherhood. If that’s framed as the natural progression of womanhood, then where does a queer person go? When you grow up in a female body, you often look to an older sister as a guide, someone who shows you how to move through the world. But as a queer person, there’s a quiet rupture when the paths available to the women you love no longer feel possible for you.
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That’s where queer loneliness begins. There’s also the layer of domestic violence at home. For some, fulfillment might mean creating their own family as a way out. But for a queer person, that kind of escape isn’t always accessible, and it becomes harder not to feel trapped within the state of isolation. Survival is still possible, but it takes on a different form, nostalgia for a time when things hadn’t changed yet, a longing for childhood, for the moment before adulthood, before becoming a woman.
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The story of Fang’s memories of her sister feels so intimate and personal. I'm wondering if any of your personal experiences are reflected in the film, and if so how did you work on integrating them into the narrative?
[Christine] The film draws from my own estrangement from my family, especially my sister. Her presence, and her absence, have shaped how I understand myself in relation to adulthood and identity. There’s a layered grief beyond the dysfunction of the family, but a specifically queer grief of not being able to express fully as myself while we were still close. It’s the grief of lost time, of things left unsaid, and of a connection that might have been different under other circumstances.
[Christine] The film draws from my own estrangement from my family, especially my sister. Her presence, and her absence, have shaped how I understand myself in relation to adulthood and identity. There’s a layered grief beyond the dysfunction of the family, but a specifically queer grief of not being able to express fully as myself while we were still close. It’s the grief of lost time, of things left unsaid, and of a connection that might have been different under other circumstances.
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[Tinshine, Christine] In the film, we use the setting to hold these fragile and unreal moments (the abandoned building, dead leaves, a fallen tree that’s been uprooted). The relationship of the characters unfolds through absence and one-sided yearning. Working in a dream state lets it stay both intimate and distant at the same time, while holding onto the idea that what once existed can’t really come back the same way.
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The couple that we see later on in the film really stuck with me, and I wondered if they are representative of a shared memory held by Thai youth, or a memory held by the building itself?
That’s an interesting way to look at it.
[Tinshine] The couple was written as a parallel to Prae’s backstory as a reflection of the kinds of experiences many young people carry, particularly those shaped by sexual violence and emotional or psychological harm within relationships.
That’s an interesting way to look at it.
[Tinshine] The couple was written as a parallel to Prae’s backstory as a reflection of the kinds of experiences many young people carry, particularly those shaped by sexual violence and emotional or psychological harm within relationships.
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[Christine] At the same time, the building itself holds a kind of memory. Even in its abandoned state, it remains a space of refuge within the dream. There’s an ambiguity to it whether it still exists as it once did, or if it has already been replaced, as the narration suggests. The couple could belong to that past, or they could exist in the present built over it. In that sense, they become part of the layering of memory, where personal and collective histories blur into each other. Outside of the film, it becomes real in another way: we recently found out that the filming location was demolished and now will become someone else’s home.
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You wrote, directed, and produced the film together, can you tell us about your process in creating films collaboratively? If one says that one can become a filmmaker through making films, then it also applies to collaborative work.
[Christine] Filmmaking is teamwork, unless one person can fulfil all the roles, then one must compromise and communicate heavily to understand exactly the vision or direction that works the best, and also represent the story we both believe in at the same time. Our collaborative process has truly been a learning curve, with all the ups and downs as what usually happens when artists with personal style and vision come together to push forward a project. The both of us have grown greatly and discovered what kind of filmmakers we want to be and what kind of collaborative process and environment we want to create. |
I was hoping you could also tell us a bit about the importance for the both of you in making films through the lens of queer experience?
[Tinshine] We think queer experience is not being told enough, especially in the Thai context. The concept of family as a foundational pillar for self-formation remains a deeply rooted tradition in Thai society. When traditional family structures fail to provide the expected safe space, many in the queer community experience a profound sense of isolation; of otherness. This isolation stems from the feeling that one must navigate life entirely alone. That’s why sharing queer stories matters. It’s a way of connecting with others who feel the same things. Through these narratives, we want to say: you’re not alone. What you’re feeling is real and important, and there’s space for you to tell your stories.
[Tinshine] We think queer experience is not being told enough, especially in the Thai context. The concept of family as a foundational pillar for self-formation remains a deeply rooted tradition in Thai society. When traditional family structures fail to provide the expected safe space, many in the queer community experience a profound sense of isolation; of otherness. This isolation stems from the feeling that one must navigate life entirely alone. That’s why sharing queer stories matters. It’s a way of connecting with others who feel the same things. Through these narratives, we want to say: you’re not alone. What you’re feeling is real and important, and there’s space for you to tell your stories.
Christine Flemming (they/them) - Christine is a Thai, Yunnanese-Chinese and Swedish writer, filmmaker, and activist. Born in Chaing Mai, Christine moved to Bangkok for university and after graduation, they have been working in media production as a screenwriter, director and community organizer for more than 5 years. Christine has been curating film programs and facilitating filmmaking workshops to encourage, uplift and connect feminist and LGBT+ storytellers, artists and activists.
Tinshine Mont (they/them) - Tinshine's work explores themes of subconscious and queer desires and how they manifest in dreams and memories. Tinshine’s short film “Ethereal Creature,” is about two girls returning a fruit they stole from a Thai mythological Goddess. It competed at the 2018 Seoul International Women’s Film Festival and 2019 SeaShorts Film Festival. Tinshine’s third short film, “A Day Will Come” (2019) is a collaboration with Christine Flemming, with political themes about freedom of speech and forced disappearance. It screened at two exhibitions organized by Amnesty Thailand in 2022 and 2025. Tinshine’s latest work is part of the project “Soon to be Forgotten,” shot on 8mm film. It captures landscapes and migrant labor in Bangkok, and was exhibited at the Bangkok Art and Culture Centre (BACC) in 2024 and the Thai Film Archive in 2025.
Tinshine Mont (they/them) - Tinshine's work explores themes of subconscious and queer desires and how they manifest in dreams and memories. Tinshine’s short film “Ethereal Creature,” is about two girls returning a fruit they stole from a Thai mythological Goddess. It competed at the 2018 Seoul International Women’s Film Festival and 2019 SeaShorts Film Festival. Tinshine’s third short film, “A Day Will Come” (2019) is a collaboration with Christine Flemming, with political themes about freedom of speech and forced disappearance. It screened at two exhibitions organized by Amnesty Thailand in 2022 and 2025. Tinshine’s latest work is part of the project “Soon to be Forgotten,” shot on 8mm film. It captures landscapes and migrant labor in Bangkok, and was exhibited at the Bangkok Art and Culture Centre (BACC) in 2024 and the Thai Film Archive in 2025.
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