When contemplating the essence of the Southern region, a spectrum of impressions arises, some bright, others shadowed. Geographically, the South is undeniably picturesque, with locales like my home state of Tennessee boasting postcard-perfect mountain vistas and a breathtaking autumnal tapestry of colors. Yet, the South is also steeped in narratives that cast a critical light on its people and history. This year, I’ve been particularly reflective on what it means to hail from the South, yet perhaps not fully align with the conventional, often romanticized, Southern identity.
This year brought the distinct pleasure of attending BIG EARS, an eclectic festival hosted in Knoxville, Tennessee. More than just a music festival, BIG EARS is a profound storytelling experience, constructing bridges across diverse artistic mediums. It’s a conduit for transformative cultural encounters that transcend traditional boundaries, and film is undeniably a vital part of this experience.
Lily Keber at BIG EARS festival, photographed by Holly Rainey
Lily Keber, film curator at the Big Ears Festival, captured by photographer Holly Rainey, showcasing her expertise in selecting impactful pioneer films.
I had the opportunity to connect with Lily Keber, a key film curator for this year’s festival. Lily is a New Orleans-based filmmaker and educator. Her directorial debut, “Bayou Maharajah,” premiered at SXSW in 2013 and garnered numerous accolades, including the Oxford American Award for Best Southern Film and the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities’ Documentary Of The Year. Lily is also the co-founder of New Orleans Video Voices, a women-led collective dedicated to enhancing media literacy throughout the Gulf South. Lily shared her insights on the compelling films featured at this year’s festival, emphasizing her curatorial approach to selecting what can be considered “Pioneer Films” in their own right:
I’m always searching for films that I believe will deeply resonate with the BIG EARS audience. These are often films that might be perceived as somewhat challenging or unconventional for a more mainstream audience. What initially drew me to BIG EARS was the remarkable open-mindedness, patience, and engagement of the audiences, both for the musical performances and the film screenings. As someone with Appalachian roots, I feel a strong connection to this region, and I want to leverage this platform to spotlight significant and contemporary works being created here. It’s also important to note that the films aren’t exclusively music-centric. We are thrilled to host the world premiere of “Liberated Landscapes,” by William Isom, the founder of Black in Appalachia. It’s incredibly meaningful to showcase a film that specifically addresses the Black Appalachian experience, bringing often unheard voices to the forefront.
My own experience at BIG EARS confirmed Lily’s observations about the audience’s receptiveness to a wide array of impactful films. This year’s festival presented a compelling lineup of films directed by exceptionally talented female filmmakers. Notable selections included: “The Tuba Thieves” (directed by Alison O’Daniel), “Sisters with Transistors” (directed by Lisa Rovner), the Knoxville premiere of “Carpet Cowboys” (Emily Mackenzie & Noah Collier), and “American Symphony” (produced by Lauren Domino). These films collectively represent a new wave of “pioneer films,” pushing boundaries and exploring diverse narratives.
Among these standouts, “O Pioneer,” directed by West Virginia natives Clara Lehmann and Jonathan Lacocque, was particularly impactful. “O Pioneer” resonated with me on a profound level, unlike any film, documentary or narrative, in recent memory. I was fortunate to have a conversation with Clara Lehmann, delving into the deeper meanings embedded within the film and exploring her experiences as a female filmmaker navigating the landscape of independent cinema. I am delighted to share excerpts from my interview with Clara Lehmann, focusing on “O Pioneer” as a prime example of a pioneer film.
Clara Lehmann, director of 'O Pioneer', discusses her journey as a female filmmaker in Appalachia.
Clara Lehmann, co-director of “O Pioneer,” at Big Ears Festival, sharing insights into her film and the pioneering spirit of independent filmmaking.
Let’s delve into your film, “O Pioneer,” because it truly captivated me. Sometimes you just encounter art at precisely the right moment, you know? Growing up in Tennessee, with my father’s roots in the Appalachian region, stories centered on these communities always deeply resonate. I found it to be a beautifully crafted film, uniquely executed. It transcended mere documentation; it felt like an intimate glimpse into the rich lives of the people there. The Chaplain’s storyline was particularly moving.
He is truly remarkable. And they made it easy for us because it felt like we were among friends. We consciously chose individuals we already knew. Access is a significant consideration in our rural setting; it’s a 45-minute drive to the nearest grocery store. We were determined to make a film, but it had to be one that was realistically achievable given our circumstances. Being parents and running a small business deeply embedded in our community, we realized we needed to focus on subjects close to home. These acquaintances, who we genuinely admired, became our focus. We thought, ‘Let’s make a film about them.’ That sense of connection, I believe, permeates the film. They were incredibly open and comfortable sharing their lives with us, built on a foundation of mutual trust.
That intimacy truly translates onto the screen. It felt like we were watching friends interact. That genuine connection you fostered with your subjects is palpable throughout the film. There’s a careful tenderness in how you presented their stories, their lives, and I believe they sensed and appreciated that. In some documentaries, you can perceive a discomfort or unease in the subjects being filmed, but here, it felt like they were simply among trusted friends.
Documentary filmmaking operates in this peculiar space where you strive to avoid influencing your participants, yet simultaneously aim to craft a compelling narrative with thematic depth that can engage an audience, often one with a limited attention span and a preference for recognizable faces. This is the ongoing challenge we face, particularly with distribution. The moment your film lacks celebrity figures or a sensational subject matter, it’s often dismissed with the question, ‘Why even make this film?’ And that very question is precisely why we made this film. We were weary of the constant elevation of the ‘1%’ or the idealized ‘pioneer’ that feels so unattainable for most. Even as a filmmaker, I often feel that disconnect. The pinnacle of success seems so far removed from my everyday reality, so I’ve chosen to focus on creating work that I genuinely love and believe in.
The core concept of the film revolves around being a pioneer, and in creating this film, you are embodying that pioneering spirit yourself. It’s wonderfully meta—you, yourselves, are pioneers. I think to be an independent filmmaker, you inherently have to be a pioneer.
Absolutely. That’s the realization we’ve come to. It’s about accepting that maybe financial riches aren’t the primary reward. I might avoid crippling debt, but I dedicate years to fundraising or operating on a shoestring budget. When I undertake corporate work, I consciously set aside 20% of those earnings to reinvest in my personal projects. This is the reality for many of us in independent film. We often don’t see a direct financial return commensurate with the effort, but the emotional and artistic fulfillment is immeasurable. This journey itself is the reward.
What sparked the initial inspiration for “O Pioneer”? And what guided your choices in selecting the three individuals featured in the film?
You know how after completing a film, you experience this incredible high? I think we become somewhat addicted to that creative surge. I feel almost compelled to keep creating. I had just finished my first feature, “Born in a Ballroom,” also a documentary, and a deeply personal one. It was fulfilling a promise to my grandmother to tell her story, a promise we didn’t complete until after she passed away. The film journeys through my process of grief and healing, grappling with the loss and the regret of not finishing the film while she was still here. Yet, it’s also a celebration of her life. We had just premiered it at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival. It was exhilarating. At the premiere, I even wore my grandmother’s skirt, which ironically ripped on the red carpet, and I was there stapling it back together! It felt like, ‘Okay, this is real, this is exciting!’ It was January 2020, and we were completely unaware of the impending pandemic. Then one night, while meditating, the idea struck me: ‘I want to explore the concept of pioneers.’ And that led to the fundamental question, ‘What does it truly mean to be a pioneer?’
Clara Lehmann at the 35th Santa Barbara International Film Festival in 2020.
Clara Lehmann at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival, a pioneer filmmaker recognized for her authentic storytelling and dedication to independent cinema.
My curiosity was piqued because I had recently reread Walt Whitman’s poem “Pioneers! O Pioneers!” My grandmother used to recite it to us as children. Rereading it as an adult, I was struck by how problematic some of the themes felt. Lines like, ‘Come take this land as ours, bring your guns, and let’s settle this territory,’ felt jarringly out of step with contemporary perspectives. I felt compelled to re-examine the concept of ‘pioneer.’ My mind then jumped to different types of ‘pioneers’—the pioneering figure in medicine, or someone like Elon Musk, pioneering space exploration to Mars. We often admire these figures, yet we often overlook the potential for harm or unintended consequences that can accompany that relentless drive to explore and conquer without considering the broader impact. That’s the core of what we wanted to explore in “O Pioneer.” We wanted to delve into what I admire about the spirit of pioneering, while also prompting a more nuanced understanding. That initial spark evolved through collaboration with incredibly talented filmmakers, artists, and, of course, our participants. The story transformed throughout the process, yet the essence of the original inquiry remained.
We chose subjects—people we admired or were aware of within the Appalachian community. Nellie Rose grew up in a community near my own. She’s a respected figure in the West Virginia art scene for her exquisite textile art. James Morley used to preach at our church. While I personally grapple with my religious identity, James’s spiritual perspective resonated deeply with me. I immediately recognized aspects of myself in his spiritual journey. And, of course, it’s impossible not to be drawn to his charm and genuine warmth. He possesses such a beautiful perspective on love in all its forms, irrespective of sexual orientation or identity. It felt incredibly natural and inclusive. And then Tim, he was also someone within our community. He’s a talented blacksmith who creates stunning wares, and he was a regular vendor at our local community fair. His family always intrigued us with their depth of wisdom and practical skills.
Kaïa Kater, narrator of 'O Pioneer', adds a layer of depth and perspective to the film's narrative.
Kaïa Kater, the narrator of “O Pioneer,” pictured in a still from the film, enhancing the storytelling with her unique voice and perspective as a Black Appalachian folk musician.
I want to discuss Kaïa Kater, your narrator. I found her inclusion to be a brilliant element of the film. What was the thinking behind incorporating her voice as a touchstone throughout the narrative?
Jonathan kept emphasizing that my voice, my perspective, was missing from the film. Our participants beautifully embody the arc of the hero’s journey, and we captured that essence. But to broaden the film’s appeal to a national or international audience, we felt it needed another layer of depth. Without it, we worried it might be perceived as too regionally specific, a mere ‘slice-of-life’ piece. While some viewers may still see it that way—as a portrait of West Virginians—Kaïa brought an elevated dimension.
Kaïa, while not originally from West Virginia, has strong ties to the Appalachian community. Her narration beautifully articulates the underlying themes, reminding the audience that there’s a deeper reckoning at play. As a white filmmaker in West Virginia, it’s crucial to acknowledge the complex and often troubling history of the region. Historically, pioneers were encouraged to claim land with little regard for existing inhabitants or the environmental consequences. Kaïa, with her unique background as a Canadian Grenadian and a Black woman deeply immersed in Appalachian folk music, brings a crucial perspective. Her song “Poets Be Buried,” which she suggested for the film, subtly underscores the need for self-reflection and a broader societal reckoning. It’s a gentle invitation to examine our assumptions and biases, prompting viewers to consider perspectives beyond their own immediate experience. Perhaps it might inspire someone to pick up a book offering a more critical viewpoint, or to engage in dialogue with a neighbor from a different background. That was the intention behind incorporating her voice.
Lastly, have you encountered any significant roadblocks in your journey as a female filmmaker, particularly in distribution, or in navigating the industry as a pioneer in your own right?
Yes, and I’ll be candid—these roadblocks are often subtle, almost imperceptible at times. It’s difficult to pinpoint specific instances, but I am certain they exist. We all know these systemic barriers are present, repeatedly documented and discussed. However, I also acknowledge the instances where I’ve felt supported and uplifted as a female filmmaker. Within the women filmmaker community, there’s a strong collective effort to effect change, particularly in the arts, by amplifying diverse voices and promoting inclusivity. I’m immensely proud to be part of that movement. But we must remain vigilant; complacency could easily lead to regression. This particular project was one of the most diverse and collaborative experiences I’ve had. Our crew was 56% women, and collaborators from around the globe contributed to the film, drawn to the animation, the unique music, and the story itself. We consciously sought diversity in terms of location and collaborators. We prioritized working with individuals who were genuinely moved by the project and brought their unique perspectives to it. That’s what I value most. While I remain acutely aware of the challenges that female filmmakers face, I refuse to let those obstacles dictate my path or limit my creative vision. I will continue to push forward, creating the films I believe in.
