RED ROOMS Interview, Part 1: Pascal Plante Talks the Craft of Making a Thriller

In Martin Kudlac's review of Red Rooms, he writes about how the film draws on Michael Haneke, its "enigmatic" protagonist Kelly-Anne (Juliette Gariépy), and the ways it repeatedly "bucks genre expectations" as a film ostensibly about a serial killer.

More than a year later -- the film has had a long road to US distribution -- I was lucky enough to sit down with Plante and ask him about all these aspects Martin discusses in his review and more.

In stark distinction to the sometimes cold, sometimes brutal film, Plante is one of the kindest and most affable filmmakers I've had the pleasure of speaking with. Albeit, it certainly helps the conversation that we have similar music taste and feelings about the difference between horror and true crime as entertainment. We spoke for more than half an hour about various aspects of the film, from the technical to the psychological, and got a bit sidetracked by that similar taste in music.

You can read part 1 of our conversation below, which has been edited for length and clarity.

Screen Anarchy: I've read a decent amount of the interviews you've already done, and I know you've been doing a year of press now.

Pascal Plante: Yeah, I know. July of last year it premiered and I've actually matured a bit in the way that I approach the material. I gained a lot from some of the Q&As that I did [and] some of the harder questions that I [received] in the process. So it's fun to be back.

I'm glad. I'm going to try and ask questions you haven't been asked a million times, but we'll see. So, I know you did animatics for the courtroom long take. But what I was curious about is: how did you develop the shot choices and blocking for either the images focused on computer and phone screens, or the images that have computer and phone screens and a character in them? And then I'm curious if you watched any screenlife stuff, because obviously UNFRIENDED: DARK WEB comes to mind but is a very different movie.

I did, yeah. In the research, you know. I love research. So a lot of the films that I write start from my obsession. Because I need to cling onto it for such a long time that I kind of need to be a bit obsessed by the topics I'm trying to depict. So yeah, watching lots of screens myself, but even down to the films that I would watch. So, I would watch the dumbest films sometimes like Unfriended: Dark Web, which is not bad.

Oh, I agree

It's not bad at all. It also tackles the lo-fi components, but not in a tacky way. I felt like they knew their stuff. Like they knew when to be dumb for the narrative's sake, but they knew enough [of] the details, I felt like they were aware of what they were doing.

But to answer your question, this was the single biggest challenge; how to make the screens interesting looking throughout the film, and yet also making it intelligible. [So] that the audience understands what's being shown to them, but not not making [the interface] overly simplistic. You know, in some like 90s hackers movies, the big info is almost like underlined 10 times and you're like, "well, that doesn't look like anything."

This is really easier said than done, because the computer screen is filled with info, filled with useless info. So understanding the point in the image where the eye is after a cut and where the eye looks right away.

It's a lot of trying to make a complex-looking interface, but then kind of taking the hand of the audience to look where I want them to look without them noticing. It's very tricky. And also, for instance, there's a big climactic scene where there's two things going on at once, like the poker on the one screen, and then an auction on the other screen.

That's what made me want to ask, yeah.

Yeah I wanted this scene to be understandable by my mom, who doesn't know how to play Texas Hold'em poker. So almost distilling, "what's the [important] info?" It's just numbers going up, numbers going down. And yet, I also want somebody who plays poker to be like, "this is not a dumbed down version."

So I did lots of meetings with the director of photography and [was] like, "what are all the tricks in our toolbox?" And so sometimes we would, for instance, have a glass in front of the screen, so we can have a reflection, we could do a split diopter, have a shot/counter shot with the split diopter within the same shot, for instance.

Do we film the whole screen? Do we film the screen [from the] side so that we have blur, like, a shallow depth of field? But then I also wanted the aesthetic to be extremely coherent within a scene. Because the film's language evolves.

It starts very squarish, and then becomes a bit more nervous. Then almost paranoiac and then very fantasy-like. So I wanted to film the screens within the scene, so that it makes sense within the aesthetic we are [in] at the given time in the narrative, and also not make it just editing-based.

And I know the ending scene is very editing-based, and it's the most boring thing to shoot, because you just film blocks of info, and then you have to figure it out later. And you have to trust that it's going to work. But for me, it's too much of a leap of faith, so I was, as much as possible, doing longer takes.

But [with] longer takes, you need to have a very, very precise [plan]. Because we didn't do CG-integrated scenes, everything you see on the screens [was] designed and animated beforehand. So the actress rehearsed her scenes with, it's kind of an elaborate PowerPoint, in a way. So whenever she types, the animation will move forward. But also, she's the one controlling the mouse and the flow of the animation.

You needed to make it so that she's actually interacting with something.

Of course, of course, that also helps her acting, but she also needs to rehearse it a lot. Because the character herself, she's very proficient at what she does. So the actress had to rehearse it as much as possible so when we do the scene, she completely understands what she is doing. But we can talk a lot about that, because this was the biggest challenge, and I don't want to make a film with that much screen any time soon.

And we would film them mostly at night, like a skeleton crew, with bloodshot eyes. Like, "what are we filming? How are we filming this?" It seems easy -- there are screens everywhere in your life -- [but] it's not as easy as just putting a camera and filming the content of it.

We did tests of the frame rates of the screens, of the brightness of it, the color temperature. Because the lighting of a lot of the scenes are literally the screens themselves, too. So they also have to work within [the scene], let's say on a wider shot, they needed to light her in a good way. Anyways, it's the biggest challenge, for sure.

Well, you succeeded. I'm sorry it was so hard, but it came out looking great. Sort of picking up on two things you said there. The fantasy aspect, and then you all having bloodshot [eyes] trying to make it through [night] shoots.

You've talked about Haneke and Fincher as reference points, but I'm curious about VIDEODROME. Because while the technology and the level of fantasy are very different, RED ROOMS does kind of feel like a 21st century VIDEODROME, where the walls of reality are collapsing into an unreality through a medium that captures and relays violence. So I was curious, was that a reference point for you at all? Or was that not something you thought about?

It is, I mean, but in a very digested way. Like even Fincher. I did not rewatch any Finchers. It's almost, how do we do a dark thriller? Fincher is pretty much imprinted in our brain.
Haneke is one of [my] personal favorites, so I did rewatch Benny's Video. I found it really nihilistic, though. It's one of his bleakest, I didn't want my film to be as nihilistic. But still, just how the lo-fi and the hi-fi of the era, how they interacted.

And of course, Videodrome. I'm Québécois, so, Canadian. "Name three great Canadian filmmakers." Of course, 99% of them will name Cronenberg. Videodrome is literally my favorite of his, with maybe Dead Ringers, those are the two that maybe rank above the others for me. But again, I did not rewatch it.

These are just films that made an impact and sometimes I would be aware of their heritage on my own craft, but I feel sometimes it's better to just remember "what is it about them that made an impact on you, that stuck with you?" Because the aim of Red Rooms is to make a film that crawls under your skin, that sticks with you. To almost cast a spell on you, that you just want to think about a lot.

And I know some Lynch films do that, but did I reference Lynch? Not at all. But it's just that a lot of the films that I love have this kind of lingering effect. And Videodrome most definitely had that effect on me when I watched it.

But this is just me being a film lover and thinking back "What do all these films have in common?" And I think they all have a sense of mystery in common. If you still want to actively work your brain around them and peel layers off, and sometimes it's just the "dot, dot, dot" component of them that makes it so. There's just this mystery.

Speaking of mystery, was not showing any of the snuff videos always part of the film? Was that in the script? Or was that decided later? Because for me, beyond the mystery of not seeing it, it makes it feel much more real. It doesn't feel like a "fun" fake snuff movie, like a GUINEA PIG or something. It makes it seem like a real thing she's investigating.

It was there from the get go, even down to 'why am I making this film?' And I think, we've been mentioning Haneke maybe, but what do we seek out of the entertainment we're looking at? And a lot of the time, like when the Clementine character [played by Laurie Babin] wants to see the video, I think it mirrors the fantasy and the envy of a lot of the audience members. But not showing the violence doesn't make the film easier on you. If anything, it makes it even harsher on you.

Because I think if you watch a gory image, you can close your eyes, but you can also kind of reject it or look at the artificiality of it. Like if I watch Cannibal Holocaust, and I see something very gruesome, sometimes I switch my brain to "oh, it's made in this way" or "that's the trick." But if you don't see it, you don't have that crutch anymore.

It's much harder, I feel, to push away images that are conjured up in your own mind's eye. They might stick with you longer. But more than that, I feel like not showing it is a very obvious choice. It confronts your own bloodthirst.

Like if a person, just out of entertainment maybe, wants to see it, but then when that scene happens, it's horrible enough that they are repelled by even their own desires. That's the dance that I'm trying to have with the audience in these key moments. And will it work? Do they work? I don't know. That's up to the audience to decide.

But again, it's not meant to go easy on the audience. If anything, it's meant to go even harsher on them and to shake them. To go "this is what you wanted and you're getting it, but it's not going to be fun."

Yeah, I was going to ask also, do you think that there is a difference or not that much of a difference between horror, especially extreme horror, and true crime as entertainment? I adore horror, even at its most extreme and most graphic, but find most true crime kind of exploitative and in bad taste. I'm curious if you feel that there's a distinction or do you feel that they're more similar?

I guess I make the same distinctions as you. Because a good horror film, it's very cinematographic. Like the filmmaker has to understand film language for it to be a good horror film. You need to understand atmosphere, lighting, editing, like the rhythm is so important. Acting needs to be on point, if they do too much or too little, it just breaks the illusion. To be a good horror filmmaker, you need to be in [great] control of your craft.

Whereas true crime, it's a bit cheaper in a way. I think it just taps into something very innate in humans. Let's say there's a car crash, we look at the car crash. If there's a bar fight, you look at the bar fight. If they tell you this guy is a serial killer, he killed 37 women, you will look. But that's kind of easy to do.

And even as somebody who's very literate about the audiovisual content that they consume -- I watch tons of films and docs -- but you watch Tiger King and you just fall for it, I don't know why.

It's almost like a binge of McDonald's. It can be good, but then you feel bad afterwards in a weird way. If you watch cheap reality TV or if you watch a by-the-numbers true crime series, I kept feeling a bit empty at the end. It's the same fulfillment as when you watch Videodrome, for instance.

But more than that, they are literal true crimes and they are obsessed [with] the people that committed the crimes and so rarely [with] the victims. Because let's remind ourselves collectively and be empathetic for a moment.

You know, Ted Bundy, if you do a six-hour show on him, that's on you. But he killed 30 people. Let's remind ourselves that there are broken lives, literal broken lives, but also the entourage that are the ones that are still living, that maybe have Netflix at home and they're seeing this seventh Ted Bundy show that's raking in the numbers. This is in poor taste, very quickly is in poor taste.

There are some very good ones. I don't know if you saw Paradise Lost[: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills] from 1996, and they made two other films that followed it. This is the gold standard for true crime docs, in my opinion. There are good ones, of course, but there are very cheap ones that are just exploiting the folklore around these terrible people and forgetting entirely the pain they committed.

Speaking of the people who are drawn to these things, I know that was sort of your inroad into making RED ROOMS, was looking at the spectators' point of view instead of the killer or the police. But even still, Kelly-Anne feels very unique. We've seen characters like Clementine before, who is drawn to it and excited by it. But how did you develop Kelly-Anne? Do you know everything that's going on in her head or is she still sort of an enigma to you as well?

Kelly-Anne started very rooted in my research. Let's say there's a spectrum of "who are these groupies? Who can they be?" Clementine is most definitely on one end; she's blinded by, you can't even call it love at this point, but just blinded.

There are some people who would watch the Magnotta video and would be like, "this is a trick, somebody's behind the camera dictating what he's doing." Some people do mental gymnastics like you wouldn't believe. So that's maybe one.

But then there's the exact opposite end which Kelly-Anne maybe is a part of. Which is much darker and more ambiguous where they know they're attracted for the exact opposite reasons. Like they know [the accused] committed the crimes, but they want to tap into [the accused's] evil mind and they are fascinated by that.

There's even down to, you know Bonnie of Bonnie and Clyde, who would be almost sexually turned on by violence. There are some people like that. There's even a name for it, hybristophilia. So there are people that are hybristophiliacs who are basically like attracted by the blood and guts and gore and crime and whatever on a kink level.

So she [Kelly-Anne] started rooted in all that kind of down to earth research and evolved into a ghost, like almost otherworldly. I just felt like this film, it starts off a bit true crime-y, but then tries to get away as much as possible. And when it finishes, you're really in the head of somebody who has morbid fantasies. She sees the world differently. We experience the narrative differently when we really get into her head. And this is where I'm also having the most fun as a filmmaker. With red lights and filters on top of the camera.

I loved the deep fried meme moment.

Yeah, the film becomes expressionistic. And I feel even down to the opening shot, when she wakes up, it's almost like she's waking up from almost an eternal sleep. She's so different than so many people that to have the audience suspend their disbelief and believe in her, you almost needed to make her more.

We made her almost like a superheroine/supervillain in a way. Like we talked about vampires with the wardrobe she wears. She's into medieval poetry, whatever. Like this is all tied to making a character that's too much to handle almost. Like she's too much to believe so she ends up becoming believable again by being filmed in such a way where she floats and haunts the film.

Yeah, I just loved that all the way through I could not get a handle on her. And by the time the movie was over, I still was like, "I have no idea what to do with this character." She's fascinating.

No, but that's good. To me, that's the only entry point for such a film where you don't really know her motivations, and if you do, it's in the second half of the film. And yet she is the vehicle from which you experience the film.

So for me, my key rule for the whole thing was like, let's make her as fascinating as possible. Like the film will only work if the audience becomes obsessed by her the way she's obsessed by the killer. So there's this weird mixture, we know there are red flags about her, but we don't know what's up, what's her deal. We just wish we could be a fly on the wall. Just see how she lives, see "what's her deal?"

And this is a key question that makes you hop on the ride. Otherwise, it would fall even before it can take off, I feel. And so even down to the choice of Juliette [Gariépy] as the actress, you know, her kind of crazy eyes. Having someone who has that magnetic, fascinating vibe. She's a Rubik's Cube, you can have fun for two hours to try to play with.

Maybe figure it out, maybe not.

Maybe figure it out, maybe not. Yeah.

In part 2 of our interview, to be published tomorrow, we talk with Pascal Plante about the music composed for the thriller.