DIRECTOR SPOTLIGHTCara Hagan
|
|
What inspired you to create Cut Me Summa Dat Noise, and how did the concept of celebrating everyday rhythms develop into a narrative about community connection?
There are two parts to this answer. First, I am a dance maker and dance researcher. One of my areas of research is Black American rhythmic dance. Pre-COVID, I had made a short doc called, Sound and Sole, featuring buck and clog dancer Arthur Grimes. He is the only professionally working, Black buck and clog dancer in Boone, NC. The film traveled the world, winning awards along the way and visibilized the Black influence in Appalachian culture that isn't generally made apparent in mass media. Cut Me Summa Dat noise was conceived as a continuation of that research work across Black genres, focusing on the hyper-social framework of rhythm tap and the intergenerational connections in that space that continue to make tap dance such a special art form, one of the few art forms that are understood as quintessentially American. Cut me Summa Dat Noise also came from a desire to cultivate community after the prolonged period of feeling disconnected during COVID lockdown and amid our re-emergence which felt super bumpy through 2022. Therefore, I wanted to approach this film from a collaborative lens, one that offered opportunities to creatively reference our tap ancestors and mentors through shared experience. There are embodied citations sprinkled throughout the 6 minutes, so this film feels both like a dance film, and a covert documentary.
A fun fact: the title actually comes from my grandfather, who passed away in 2013. When my sister, my cousins and I were all kids, we would play pool in our grandparents' basement, and whenever we got too loud, our Papa would shout down the stairs, "Cut Me Summa Dat Noise!" Because this expression was always heard when our play became raucous - think uncontrollable laughter and giddy excitement - I wanted to tip a hat to this childhood embodiment of collective joy and allow a spirit of play to permeate the making of the film. Because we come from a musical family (my dad is a drummer, and his brothers are also musicians), rhythm and melody were always a backdrop to our lived experience. Life sounds better with a soundtrack!
There are two parts to this answer. First, I am a dance maker and dance researcher. One of my areas of research is Black American rhythmic dance. Pre-COVID, I had made a short doc called, Sound and Sole, featuring buck and clog dancer Arthur Grimes. He is the only professionally working, Black buck and clog dancer in Boone, NC. The film traveled the world, winning awards along the way and visibilized the Black influence in Appalachian culture that isn't generally made apparent in mass media. Cut Me Summa Dat noise was conceived as a continuation of that research work across Black genres, focusing on the hyper-social framework of rhythm tap and the intergenerational connections in that space that continue to make tap dance such a special art form, one of the few art forms that are understood as quintessentially American. Cut me Summa Dat Noise also came from a desire to cultivate community after the prolonged period of feeling disconnected during COVID lockdown and amid our re-emergence which felt super bumpy through 2022. Therefore, I wanted to approach this film from a collaborative lens, one that offered opportunities to creatively reference our tap ancestors and mentors through shared experience. There are embodied citations sprinkled throughout the 6 minutes, so this film feels both like a dance film, and a covert documentary.
A fun fact: the title actually comes from my grandfather, who passed away in 2013. When my sister, my cousins and I were all kids, we would play pool in our grandparents' basement, and whenever we got too loud, our Papa would shout down the stairs, "Cut Me Summa Dat Noise!" Because this expression was always heard when our play became raucous - think uncontrollable laughter and giddy excitement - I wanted to tip a hat to this childhood embodiment of collective joy and allow a spirit of play to permeate the making of the film. Because we come from a musical family (my dad is a drummer, and his brothers are also musicians), rhythm and melody were always a backdrop to our lived experience. Life sounds better with a soundtrack!
|
The matriarch character is central to the film. Can you talk about her role and what she represents in the larger context of the film’s themes of rhythm, unity, and diversity?
Deborah Mitchell is one of our elders in the community. She is a protégé of Leslie "Bubba" Gaines of the Copasetics. If you don't know the Copasetics, they were a group of dancers and musicians who came together following the death of Bill "Bojangles" Robinson to keep the art of rhythm tap alive. They were active throughout the 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s. The name, "Copasetics," comes from Bojangles' saying, "Everything's Copasetic," meaning fine, okay, grand. |
|
Mitchell has had a full career on stage and on screen, which includes the film, The Cotton Club (1984), the Broadway production of Black and Blue (1989), and many other credits. She is also the founder of the New Jersey Tap Ensemble, which just closed after 30 years of classes, performances, and advocacy. Ms. Mitchell has touched literally thousands of lives. When thinking of who could occupy the role of the Matriarch, as someone whose metaphorical heartbeat is felt by so many in the tap community, it seemed natural to have Mitchell play this role.
I also want to mention Margaret Morrison, who dances the laundry duet with me and was a guiding force for the film both choreographically and as a co-producer. She made the introduction between Mitchell and Myself, because I didn't know Mitchell personally before this project. Morrison is another elder and mentor in our community who has a storied career of her own, most notably dancing in Brenda Bufalino, Tony Waag, and Charles "Honi" Coles' American Tap Dance Orchestra.
I also want to mention Margaret Morrison, who dances the laundry duet with me and was a guiding force for the film both choreographically and as a co-producer. She made the introduction between Mitchell and Myself, because I didn't know Mitchell personally before this project. Morrison is another elder and mentor in our community who has a storied career of her own, most notably dancing in Brenda Bufalino, Tony Waag, and Charles "Honi" Coles' American Tap Dance Orchestra.
|
The way this community of dancers and makers came together for this film, from the elders to the amazing kids featured in the film, speaks to the timbre of the tap community which feels enthusiastically supportive, open to collaboration, and understanding of the importance of passing knowledge between generations.
|
Sound and rhythm are clearly integral to this film. How did you approach designing the auditory experience, and how does it tie into your vision of creating connections within the community?
After I wrote the treatment for the film, Margaret and I were fortunate enough to gather a small group of stellar musicians - Jackie Coleman (trumpet), Dawn Drake (bass), and Usman Salahuddin (percussion). We came together to create a collaborative score, which was heavily influenced by the nuances within the treatment. It was an organic process that involved improvisation, sharing and trying new ideas, and collective agreement to solidify parts of the score when we happened upon something that felt right. Sometimes, Margaret and I would bring choreographic ideas to music rehearsals, and sometimes we would all focus on small details of the music.
After I wrote the treatment for the film, Margaret and I were fortunate enough to gather a small group of stellar musicians - Jackie Coleman (trumpet), Dawn Drake (bass), and Usman Salahuddin (percussion). We came together to create a collaborative score, which was heavily influenced by the nuances within the treatment. It was an organic process that involved improvisation, sharing and trying new ideas, and collective agreement to solidify parts of the score when we happened upon something that felt right. Sometimes, Margaret and I would bring choreographic ideas to music rehearsals, and sometimes we would all focus on small details of the music.
|
The choreography happened in a similarly collaborative way. For each of the vignettes that Margaret and I don't dance in, I would give prompts, seed phrase material, or both, and the dancers in each section would expand upon the ideas using their own vocabulary, and rhythmic and choreographic nods to the ancestors and mentors listed in the credits. Morrison and I co-choreographed the laundry vignette and the finale phrase. The only vignette that myself or Morrison didn't have input in, is Deborah's stoop dance. I felt strongly about giving Mitchell the space to do what she does best and honor her deep knowledge and practice. Watching her work, I've learned so much!
|
|
We recorded the music and the taps at Virtue and Vice recording studio in Brooklyn and played back the recording on set so that we could make sure everything was synched. After principal photography was complete, I edited both picture and sound. I added a good deal of foley and ambient noise to really try to bring the scenes alive sonically. Shout out to Producer Jeanette Bonner and Assistant Director Catriona Rubenis-Stevens for making sure we got all our ducks in a row to make all the pieces fit! And shout out to our DP, Gabe C. Elder, who made sure all the music was visible on screen which made my job as an editor much easier.
You describe yourself as a multidisciplinary artist. How do your practices in live performance, installation, or writing inform your filmmaking process, particularly for Cut Me Summa Dat Noise?
No matter the platform, I like to think of each project encompassing its own world, with its own needs, and its own desire to exist. As such, my skills get put to use in different ways, depending on the project. For example, I wanted to find locations that would fit the vibe of each vignette, but also allow each part of the choreography to become site-responsive to the locations we chose. There were adjustments and changes made in each scene, some small, and large, to best speak to the spatial opportunities and challenges of our locations. These kinds of responsive conversations with space can happen in any kind of venue - a gallery, a stage, a cafe, anywhere. Similarly, the treatment went through several changes before it was locked and even underwent deviations on set. As a creative and scholarly writer, drafts are how I peel back the layers of the work, whatever the work may be. It's part of my research process, and it's part of the realization process. I love having a roadmap or score that allows me to feel safe in making different decisions in the moment, knowing I have a center to return to if I feel like I get too far off course.
No matter the platform, I like to think of each project encompassing its own world, with its own needs, and its own desire to exist. As such, my skills get put to use in different ways, depending on the project. For example, I wanted to find locations that would fit the vibe of each vignette, but also allow each part of the choreography to become site-responsive to the locations we chose. There were adjustments and changes made in each scene, some small, and large, to best speak to the spatial opportunities and challenges of our locations. These kinds of responsive conversations with space can happen in any kind of venue - a gallery, a stage, a cafe, anywhere. Similarly, the treatment went through several changes before it was locked and even underwent deviations on set. As a creative and scholarly writer, drafts are how I peel back the layers of the work, whatever the work may be. It's part of my research process, and it's part of the realization process. I love having a roadmap or score that allows me to feel safe in making different decisions in the moment, knowing I have a center to return to if I feel like I get too far off course.
You’ve mentioned the power of art in pursuing liberation. How does this film reflect your ideals of just communities, and what conversations do you hope it sparks among viewers?
I think more important than the product that emerged as a result of the collaborative process that took place to create it, is the collaborative process itself. I always say, "no object or outcome is sacred, but the ritual to get there is." When we commit to collaborative artistic process, we are reimagining what our everyday lives can look like by creating new rules for public engagement, new models of kinship and support, and allowing ourselves to revel in the joy of a generative experience. I think especially when life becomes perplexing, or overwhelming, or feels like one injustice after another, we can turn to our art to remind ourselves that we are capable of doing things differently, Yes, it takes work! I have a zine I like to give my students, called, "Making Art Sucks." it's tongue-and-cheek, but essentially reminds us that hard things are worth doing, if it means that we grow as a result.
Ultimately, I hope people experience a few minutes of joy watching this piece, whether or not they glean the deeper aspects of collaboration, or reverence for our jazz lineages represented in the film.
I think more important than the product that emerged as a result of the collaborative process that took place to create it, is the collaborative process itself. I always say, "no object or outcome is sacred, but the ritual to get there is." When we commit to collaborative artistic process, we are reimagining what our everyday lives can look like by creating new rules for public engagement, new models of kinship and support, and allowing ourselves to revel in the joy of a generative experience. I think especially when life becomes perplexing, or overwhelming, or feels like one injustice after another, we can turn to our art to remind ourselves that we are capable of doing things differently, Yes, it takes work! I have a zine I like to give my students, called, "Making Art Sucks." it's tongue-and-cheek, but essentially reminds us that hard things are worth doing, if it means that we grow as a result.
Ultimately, I hope people experience a few minutes of joy watching this piece, whether or not they glean the deeper aspects of collaboration, or reverence for our jazz lineages represented in the film.
|
Are there any upcoming projects or collaborations you’re currently working on?
I'm writing and choreographing a solo dance-theatre piece called, "Mama Piranha," in collaboration with a wonderful dance dramaturg, Gabri Christa. Christa is also in the dance film community and deeply understands a filmic approach to live work. Mama Piranha will have its premiere in June at JACK in Brooklyn. I'm also in the early stages of a multimedia, immersive work called, "In/Separate," which explores how human bodies and non-human bodies experience climate trauma in ways that are similar, connected, or both. |
|
|
Cara Hagan (She/They) is a mover, maker, writer, curator, champion of just communities, and a dreamer. She believes in the power of art to upend the laws of time and physics, a necessary occurrence in pursuit of liberation. In their work, no object or outcome is sacred; but the ritual to get there is. Hagan’s newest short film, “Cut Me Summa Dat Noise,” is set to premiere in early 2025 having been completed in the fall of 2024. Other recent work has included, "were we birds?,” an immersive, site-specific dance work commissioned as part of the 90th anniversary season of the American Dance Festival. Hagan is author of the book, Screendance from Film to Festival: Celebration and Curatorial practice, published in 2022 by McFarland. Her most recent scholarly article, Dancing For Laughs: Signifyin(g) Bodies and the Black American Sitcom was published in a special issue of the Cultural Studies Journal and was awarded the 2024 Gertrude Lippincott Award for best English-Language article from the Dance Studies Association. Cara works as Associate Professor and Program Director for the MFA in Contemporary Theatre Performance.
You can find more about their work here : Cara Hagan |
|
