Days after the episode “Under The Banner of Heaven” premiered, I got a private message on Twitter from a Mormon counselor on the show even though we were never able to contact during filming. “Just wanted you to know how beautiful your ring was. The response here in Utah has been epic. Every day I get text messages from ex-Mormons (and some current LDS) who absolutely loved it. A lot of people are hesitating how beautiful you and Andrew are.” [Garfield] I captured the pain of a crisis of faith.”
The response seems particularly cool and rewarding to me, as I am not a Mormon and was not born and raised in Utah (or the US, for that matter). She was born (and raised) in the Philippines, the only Catholic-majority country in Asia. She received a Catholic education from kindergarten to college. As an elementary school student, I went through a phase of so religiosity that for years I was a congregation servant in the school church every morning.
What did you know about Mormonism?
Practically nothing. However, it only encouraged me to take the initiative, after showrunner (and Academy Award-winning screenwriter) Dustin Lance Black took a chance on me for what would become the first episode of television I was directing.
Ever since I started making films, I’ve always thought of cinema as a gesture of sympathetic imagination. In My Throat – “Revelation,” the penultimate part of the series – Jeb Bear (Andrew Garfield) finds the erosion of his faith surging, culminating in the darkest night in his soul. It’s a turning point for the series, as Pleasures Noir transcends true crime origins to become a “spiritual thriller.”
In truth, Bear’s spiritual crisis is no stranger to me. I “got” on Pyre and understood him deeply in my bones, as his ambivalence toward his faith increases as he knows about his history closely, and becomes more difficult and disturbed by what he has learned. My relationship with Catholicism collapsed in a similar way (the long version is A Tale for Another Day). I made a film about this breakdown in “Apparition,” in which a Filipina nun questions the adequacy of prayer amid the political turmoil during the Marcos dictatorship in the 1970s.
My extreme idea is that in the context of the industry’s push for diversity and representation, minorities are trapped only for telling stories about our communities. But Lance and the “Banner” producers took the opportunity, despite my very different background, because my dramatic sensitivity and visual aesthetic as an author align with their vision of “Banner.”
What specific thing do you bring to the table? She made three independent features that focus on introspective characters who live precariously on the margins, somehow deprived of the social and political forces in their environment.
By engaging with Banner, I sensitized those who felt displaced (like the hero in my latest “Lingua Franca”, although her dislocation is more political than spiritual, as in Banner). My ring cultivates empathy for characters stuck in a state of spiritual limbo, sparking some of the most vulnerable, human, and emotional performances from Andrew Garfield and Sam Worthington, who incidentally played men with either supernatural powers or extraordinary abilities.
I have done it all as a Filipino author who, through three bold dramatic traits, has developed a boundless capacity for compassion for humanity in all its glory and weaknesses. I set out to prove that I am capable and talented in telling stories about my community as well as about lives and experiences that are markedly different from mine. It is the next logical step for the industry to take the push for diversity and representation to a new stage.
Isabel Sandoval is a Filipino film director and actress best known for directing “Lingua Franca”. She recently directed an episode of “Under the Banner of Heaven” for FX.
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