Earlier this month we were privileged to watch Glasshouse, a South African made post-apocalyptic film with horror leanings. We loved it, with its striking visuals, dense themes and unconventional settings, Glasshouse is both unexpected and memorable. And, it’s available to watch now on Showmax and VOD.

We were also lucky enough to get some time with Kelsey Egan, the director and co-writer of the film, who graciously took time out from her busy schedule editing her next film, The Fix, to answer questions about both Glasshouse, herself as a filmmaker and what we can expect to see in future.

Glasshouse is the first of three post-apocalyptic films for Showmax, can you tell us how this deal came about?

We had a really tough end to 2019. Emma [Glasshouse co-writer and associate producer Emma Lungiswa de Wet] had a show cancelled mid-shoot and I had a feature project fall apart when one of the financiers pulled out at the 11th hour. We were both feeling pretty dystopian – this slate was born out of those ashes. 

Producer Greig Buckle encouraged us to put disaster behind us and get to work on some high concept, cost effective ideas. We brainstormed some concepts and pitched them to Showmax, hoping they’d choose one. A week before South Africa went into lockdown, they came back to us asking that three of the concepts be developed as a slate, with Greig to produce.

The timing was incredibly lucky. I spent the duration of lockdown writing on my balcony. I was in lockdown alone, so Emma, Greig and Fred Strydom were essentially my lockdown family. We spent about four months on Zoom together, writing Glasshouse and working on the other two feature scripts in this slate.

What are you currently working on? Is there anything you can share about progress on the other films in your series?

I’m currently in post on a film I wrote 9 years ago, called The Fix. I spent most of the last decade trying to get it packaged and financed. We were supposed to shoot that project in 2019, but when a piece of the financing fell away I pivoted and was lucky enough to develop the slate while we re-financed The Fix.

As for the other two films in the slate, I’ll be focusing on them once we finish editing The Fix.

What made you choose “dystopian”/”post-apocalyptic” as an overarching genre?

I’ve always been drawn to dystopian content, perhaps because I devoured so much science fiction as a child. I love how science fiction consistently challenges and interrogates our societal definitions of “normal” or “right”. Sci-fi is an exceptionally powerful, important storytelling tool – a platform by which to explore “the other”. Science fiction interrogates our world by exploring alternative paths, and often sheds light on the human condition by exposing our tragic flaws. It can serve as a warning or as inspiration – there are other ways to live and other ways to do things. I am drawn to stories that provoke thought about the world and why we live the way we do, and grounded sci-fi is the vehicle via which I explore such ideas. The fact that the content ends up being dystopian or post-apocalyptic may speak to my dark mind, a lack of faith in humanity or an interest in exploring human behavior in unfamiliar circumstances – or a combination of all three.

Glasshouse is so distinct and different in comparison to other dystopian/post-apocalyptic films, how did the concept come about?

My writing partner, Emma, came up with the concept of a glass structure and an intruder, but the glasshouse was in fact inspired by Pearson Conservatory – she grew up in the Eastern Cape and visited Pearson Conservatory as a child, and remembered it as an enchanted, haunting place – ripe for a story! So we did what you are never supposed to do and cheekily wrote the script with that location in mind. There’s a huge wealth of underutilized resources in the Eastern Cape and it was Emma’s dream to bring a project to her home province, so we always had it in our imaginations as we were writing.

In formulating the concept and developing the story, we knew we wanted to do something insular and intimate about a family dynamic. We were looking for an angle that resonated with us on a personal level, [but] we knew this needed to be grounded sci-fi and accomplishable on a very low budget. The impact of memory was personally really interesting to both of us because of our own individual life experiences. Our past has changed us, and our memories undeniably affect who we are and our sense of identity. It’s all well and good to romanticize that — it’s nice to believe that all experiences just make you stronger, or more layered or a “deeper” person, but that’s not always the case. Sometimes things happen that don’t necessarily change you for the better.

In terms of the film’s look and feel, I love fusing genres and defying expectation. Appearances are deceiving, and our visual treatment of the film is symbolic of that. The Victorian era evokes imagery of structure, refinement and sanctity, but our characters soon show the cracks in this illusion. Moreover, the sense of confinement evoked by Victorian costumes and bonnets is a tangible, visual representation of the confinement the characters experience as a result of the Shred. They are trapped by the conditions of their world, but it is an environmental threat rather than societal. Their behavior and impulses are pure and unbridled – this dynamic contrast between image and reality in the film’s design provided a visual metaphor for the themes explored in the film.

We were writing grounded science fiction, but we knew we had the opportunity to create something utterly unique in look and feel, and we wanted to dispel any stereotype about what a South African film is expected to look like.

One of the things we picked up on in Glasshouse is how narrative can be controlled by the people in power – in this case, those that retain their memories. What was the inspiration behind the unusual choice to centre a post-apocalyptic tale on the concept of memory and self?

A tangle of influences and ideas. But the core inspiration for me was an interest in exploring the impact of memory on behavior and identity. I have a close family member who struggles with short term memory loss, and Emma had a close family member who suffered from Dementia, so the importance of memory hits home to us. But also, the extent to which memories can change a person…

Memories mold one’s sense of self and perceptions of the world. Who we are is informed by our experiences. The past shapes us, and our memories colour the present. Relationships gain meaning and significance from shared history. We are who we are because of what we’ve done and who we’ve been with.

We also learn from past experiences. If we allow ourselves to forget, we are that much more likely to repeat previous mistakes. In this regard, it becomes a responsibility to remember, even if it means carrying pain forward into the future.

Of course, the danger of carrying pain is how that can impact us. It is no easy feat to remember past hurts and not have them impact our behavior to the detriment of our relationships or perception of others. Sometimes, things happen that change us… and these changes aren’t necessarily for the better. Are all memories worth keeping? They can be heavy things. Glasshouse explores two opposing coping mechanisms to trauma: holding tightly to the past as a form of preservation, and willful forgetting.

But the film is also tinged with a vestige of horror, which is really the haunting, permeating quality of colonialism in Africa. Pearson Conservatory —a gift from the UK— is itself a relic of colonialism in a very contemporary South African context. So the whole film ended up becoming this allegory for colonialism. The colonial lifestyle has historically been idealized in both imagery and architecture, and yet is utterly corrupt. The veneer of the glasshouse (and the family bond of our characters) is one of security and safety, but this idealized oasis is an illusion – a façade that masks the rot beneath. What is the price for this sanctuary? Blood. Our family’s narrative is a fragile one. Their truth is tenuous.

In looking at identity, we were looking at memory and cultural amnesia, again relating back to colonialism, and looking at the impact of trauma, how things that happen to us don’t necessarily change us for the better and how everyone has different coping mechanisms for trauma. We wanted to explore that in the context of this really intimate story where a person looks for a coping mechanism by oblivion—erasing the past so as to not deal with it— which, to a degree, is a way of avoiding acknowledgement of past trauma.

The Shred is an airborne pandemic, and with it comes masking when outdoors and a fear of strangers. These are things that pandemic-era audiences can heavily identify with. Were these concepts already present in the script pre-shooting, or did the COVID-19 pandemic influence the way the story was told?

When we developed the initial concept, we didn’t know the impact Covid-19 was going to have on the world. We never intentionally developed the film as a reaction to the pandemic, but I’m sure that writing the film during lockdown had an influence. The film is quite claustrophic and actively explores unreliable narratives – our characters all embrace different truths – and that was an eerily parallel to our lived experience over that time. Even now, like memory in the Glasshouse, what is a necessary survival tool and lifeline to one individual is perceived as a threat or risk by another. Such dramatic differences in perspective can be quite unsettling, and I hope very much that the film can provoke thought and conversation in this light. 

Was there anything cut from Glasshouse that you were sad to lose?

Of course. 🙂

If you were in a world where The Shred was real, would you choose blissful ignorance or the weight of memory?

That’s a very difficult question. I imagine I would do my best to shoulder the weight, but I do not know if I would be strong enough to carry it.

Who are your filmmaking inspirations?

Long list. Catherine Breillat, Sam Mendes, Todd Haynes, Rian Johnson, Darren Aronofsky, Guillermo del Toro, Agnieszka Holland, Ridley Scott, Jon Avnet, Luc Besson. Can’t really leave out Spielberg or Lucas, either. They shaped a generation. And beyond that? Life. Human stories. Things I’ve seen. Books I’ve read. Anything that touches me or provokes thought, really.

They’ve obviously been around for a long time, but women filmmakers are increasing in prominence. What is your perspective on this? Do you think your gender impacts your approach to movie making and storytelling?  Have you found any particular challenges that come from being a woman filmmaker?

Representation in general is important, be that representation in gender, culture, nationality, orientation, etc. Every story and experience matters. Without exposure to others’ experience of the world, we live in a bubble. It isn’t a real reflection of the world. It’s only one reality and in truth, there are so many. Understanding these different realities beget greater understanding, empathy and cohesion.

And I think gender does impact the way we are perceived more than we’d like to believe. As does anything else involved with appearances or societal stereotypes or expectation. I’ve certainly experienced sexism. But I think most woman have, regardless of their industry. Accessing opportunities in this industry is challenging regardless, but historically it was slightly less challenging if you looked a certain way or came from a certain background. Now that is starting to change, and thank goodness, because it means more diverse stories get told.

Did being a woman help me receive directing opportunities? Probably not. At least, not for the first decade or so. If representation hadn’t become a subject of conversation in recent years, who knows if I would have been given this chance. I’d like to believe it was talent or hard work or perseverance, but many people demonstrate such qualities and never get a “break”, so to speak. Twelve years past between directing my first short film (which was nominated for a SAFTA) and directing my first feature, and I was working towards earning the opportunity to direct a feature that whole time. This industry requires a lot of perseverance.

Does being female impact my approach to filmmaking or storytelling? Probably. But since I’ve never experienced another gender identity I couldn’t tell you how. I do believe that I am cognizant of how my gender can impact how I am treated, or viewed, but that was learned from experience – and I was in denial about that for years. Mostly because I didn’t want it to be true.

I’m grateful to have had the chance now to make my own work. I hope that the work can speak for itself, and that it can be appreciated or provoke thought irrespective of my own identity.

I would like to be considered a good filmmaker because I make good films. I don’t think gender should play a part in that, but if my gender or any other trait I possess means I am more aware of or have more experience with certain things, then I hope to use that experience to bring more authenticity and resonance to my work.

We’d like to thank Kelsey for her candid, insightful answers and for granting us the time for this interview. You can keep up with her on her website, Instagram and Twitter. We’d also like to extend thanks to Showmax, for both the screening of the film and arranging the interview.