Review: 4 out of 4 chiles
by Michael AbatemarcoOct 20, 2017
Jesse is a country crooner who’s come up against a wall halfway through a solo tour in director Cheryl Nichols’ relationship drama Cortez. When Jesse’s tour is canceled for lack of interest, he seeks out Anne, an old flame living in New Mexico, in the hopes of starting over. But Cortez is less about second chances and more about the search for meaning and acceptance. We meet Jesse, whose big ego masks a life of pain and hurt, at a moment when his present situation has run its course — and yet he isn’t quite ready to move forward.
Nichols, who plays the character Anne, wrote the screenplay for Cortez with actor Arron Shiver. Shiver’s character Jesse’s sudden appearance back in Anne’s life, many years after their relationship veered off course, causes a disruption for her family. Cortez hinges on a drawn-out, uncomfortable dinner scene in which Jesse, accompanied by his best friend Eric (Drago Sumonja), can’t keep himself from acting rash, in part as a response to the presence of Anne’s son Ben, who bears more than a passing resemblance to Jesse. “There’s always a lot of talk about the likability of the Jesse character and there are varying degrees in the way that people react to him,” Nichols said. “Some people have really bad reactions and hate him. But I’m always curious about how people feel about him, because I think it says a lot about how we see ourselves.”
The character of Jesse is indeed at times unlikable, if not oblivious to Anne’s obvious discomfort, which, in scene after scene, goes unmentioned but is written all over her face. He is not at a point where he’s willing to admit he’s made a mistake by returning. But the character is not unrelatable. In the dinner scene, he goes out of his way, it seems, to embarrass her with stories not suitable for her son’s ears. “In a way, he can’t stop himself from punishing her because he feels hurt,” she said. “So he has to hurt the person that hurt him, which is something kids do and they have to be taught not to do.”
Cortez, which was filmed almost entirely in Taos, feels honest in its depiction of this soured relationship, and every performance, including that of Jackson Shiver, Shiver’s real-life son, who plays Ben, is authentic. In part, perhaps, that authenticity comes from the fact that Nichols and Shiver have an off-screen relationship, one that developed during the writing of the script. When asked about the challenge of being in a relationship that is far different from what’s depicted onscreen, Nichols said, “You’ve got be very careful and protective of it. We’re both actors and we study acting and we didn’t want to take it lightly and we didn’t want to phone it in. We talked a lot about it, and we had a support group around us. You have resentments, negative feelings, and fears you can pull from, but in a healthy relationship, we try to talk about those things and air them. Jesse and Anne don’t have a healthy relationship.”
Northern New Mexico became a filming location out of a serendipitous coincidence between Shiver and Nichols. “Before I met Aaron, I used to go to Taos, where he’s from,” she said. “I felt the draw to the place and loved being there. Then when I met Aaron and I found out he was from Taos, I told him I used to go there. He said, ‘Well, what would you do when you were there?’ I said I went to this place called Joseph’s Table, and it turns out that he used to work there. In another coincidence, one of my friends who I’ve known for 10 years, before I met Aaron, turned out to be Jackson’s godfather. When we decided to set it in Taos, it played into this whole idea of coincidence and chance. It allowed us to have a setting where it felt like some kind of weird magic happened. It wasn’t the most efficient place to film, because Taos is kind of off the beaten path, but it was really important to us to film there.”
The name Cortez alludes to the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés and the search for El Dorado, the mythical city of gold. For Jesse, Anne and Ben represent, if not something unobtainable, something he isn’t ready for: the responsibilities of adulthood. In some ways, he’s still a child himself, looking to regain past glories. His personal quest for gold remains elusive, but he does learn a thing or two along the way. “It’s an unsuccessful attempt to find this thing you think exists out there that isn’t really there. Drago Sumonja, who plays Eric, wrote this movie called Lucky that just came out with with Harry Dean Stanton. We were all working on these two movies at the same time. And there’s this whole scene in Lucky where Harry Dean gives his worldview, which is like, ‘You are nothing,’ like the self doesn’t exist. And I remember us talking a lot about that during Cortez, because people kept asking us, ‘Why’d you name it Cortez?’ It’s this masculine ego search for the self. Maybe nailing the theme to the movie or making it that clear isn’t that smart, but I think people absorb it in their own way. I think that’s kind of the point of the metaphor.” ◀
CORTEZ, drama, not rated, 99 minutes, 4 chiles
By Arron Shiver on April 10, 2017
The Man with the White Hair sat a long way away from me, his ’80s-era glasses slipping down his nose.
Next to me sat Cheryl Nichols, my producing-writing-acting-and-sometimes-bed partner (when I don’t snore). She was getting set to direct our movie Cortez. I was getting set to produce it and to try to remember all the lines I had written for myself, playing the lead role. Only one thing stood in our way: money.
We had done everything we could think of to get the necessary funds together. We had done a crowdfunding campaign, we had asked both of the rich people we knew, we had sold off the rights to our genetic material to various demonic entities. The result was that we were close to the finish line, but not quite there. We figured we still needed about $20,000 more to make our dream come true.
This is where the Man with the White Hair came in. He was an old friend, someone that I had met in my hometown of Taos, New Mexico, who had unilaterally cast me in movies he had produced, and had always been an open door for advice. Someone, incidentally, I was desperate to have the approval of. He couldn’t give us the cash himself, but 30 years spent in the trenches of independent cinema had given him the coveted knowledge that every producer wishes they had: where to find the cash. I.e. the most frustrating and most important question in all of moviemaking.
The Man with the White Hair had the answer. It was this:
“You already have enough money. Go make your movie. If it’s any good, someone will give you money to finish it.”
“If you have an excuse now to not make it, you’ll always have an excuse.”
This was the advice of a veteran movie producer, a Harvard-educated elite who had been nominated for major awards, whose movies had played at Cannes, Sundance, Tribeca, a man who could call Flannery O’Connor and John Huston dear friends. This was the advice I had traveled from Highland Park to West Hollywood for? (If you don’t know L.A., this is a long fucking way.)
“But I mean,” I stammered, detecting the beginnings of a smile on Cheryl’s face out of the corner of my eye, “we need to pay for things. We have to crew up, we have to pay for locations.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
That was, quite literally, it. Almost as soon as we had sat down in the Man’s plush house, we found ourselves out on the street. We hadn’t even been in there long enough to drink the glasses of water we were never offered.
Walking back to our car, I was disappointed, still afraid to pull the trigger on a production with no certainty as to its outcome. But Cheryl is a true maverick, a woman of vision, and she had her answer. With what we already had, caution be damned, we assembled the best crew on the planet, and we spent the next two months in Taos shooting the movie that would eventually be Cortez. We worked harder than we had ever worked before, harder than we ever imagined we would.
The sit-down with the the Man with the White Hair was just one in a long line of favors we pulled from my hometown. Over those next two months, the people of Taos gave us their homes, their bars, their art studios and even, in one case, quite literally the sacred lands of their ancestors, in order that a bunch of idiots, headed up by me and Cheryl, could make a stupid movie. That stupid movie had its premiere at the Slamdance Film Festival in January 2017, culled from a list of more than 7,000 submissions. The sizzle reel that Cheryl cobbled together a week after we wrapped was viewed by an investor, who in the end was so impressed with the film’s potential, they agreed to finance post-production.
Damned if the Man with the White Hair hadn’t called it just the way it went down.
Did we run into him again, and share stories of our success, letting him bask in the glow of his good advice? Every year he and his wife throw the best holiday party in Taos, and we always attend when we’re in town. When I shared with him the exciting news about Slamdance, though, he just nodded slightly, not impressed.
“And I wanted to tell you,” I said, “we wouldn’t have been able to do it without your advice. So thanks for that.”
“Advice? What advice did I give you?”
“Don’t you remember? At your house? You said to just make it; someone would give us the funds to finish it. And that’s exactly what we did. And that’s exactly what happened.”
He paused a long time. Then he peered at me over those thick glasses, the ones that made him look like a CIA handler circa 1983, in a tone that I found impossible to interpret:
“Is that what I told you to do?”
The question hung in the air and I stammered—I was always stammering with him—”Yes, that’s what you told us.”
Another pause ensued as he nibbled around the dessert table.
“Are you going to be up in Park City this year?” I asked.
“Oh, god no, It’s a foul place.”
“Well. I’ll send you a link to the film. We’d love for you to see it.”
He hasn’t watched it yet. I stopped holding my breath. But his nonchalance, I think, makes the ultimate point: Keep your head down and do the work. In the end, you may not have the whole world’s approval, or even the approval of those who’s approval you desire, but you will have the approval of the entity with the most “greenlight” power: you.
An addendum: I would never give the Man with the White Hair’s advice to anyone. I would recommend that you budget backwards, starting with the submission fee and postage costs for the crappy festivals that still only accept DVD submissions and happen to be your last chance at a world premiere. I would recommend that you gather enough money to cover any and all contingencies, and hire a crew that’s just big enough so that no one has to work too hard.
But, if you insist on being bold, you can take a page out of Cheryl’s book. Or go have a chat with the Man with the White Hair. MM
DIFF 2017 REVIEWS: Cheryl Nichols’s CORTEZ demonstrates extraordinary storytelling in a film about becoming whole
by Kate Morgan | Apr 3, 2017 |
The story of a musician realizing he has a lot at stake as he lives down his past in rural New Mexico might seem excruciatingly ordinary. It’s the stuff of many country songs. Unless those songs aren’t selling records, of course. Then your tour is cut short after Austin.
But the story of Cheryl Nichols’s Cortez is not ordinary, even though it’s seemingly commonplace. Though this setting seems like it’s similar to ones we’ve seen a thousand times before, in green, lush gardens — in cantinas with lively mariachi bands — await many visual surprises. The unexpected elements often pertain to deeply interrelational moments between two people who suddenly find each other. They’ll converse in a car. They’ll suddenly appear in a corner of the greenery. Another will appear on frame with a plate of bacon after stating they won’t cook any.
The overall feel of this film is best described as intimate. The visual storytelling usually renders down to how two or more people end up relating within the frame or scene. Around the dinner table, the camera moves fluidly with a set of hand gestures, easily captures a person placing meat on a plate, and expertly cuts to a meaningful glance. Much of it is so seamless the reviewer must take great pains to notice the individual moves within the scene’s flow.
When it comes down to it, Cortez is a really about family. It’s also a film about what’s transpired with one’s family members throughout the process of life. Dreams fade and the intersections of all those who were once dreaming begin to become apparent. Reality sets in. It’s not ugly though. It’s quite beautiful. It’s actually vivid.
Casting choices that also reflect writing credits in Cortez are notable in observing how this film comes to life. Arron Shiver is a believable Jesse, navigating his failing career and relationship with Anne. Her story, and as the the narrative progresses, Jesse’s story, happens to be more and more inclusive of all the family members who surround her.
The way narrative, and elements of scene are interwoven in this film is is extraordinary, and make for a satisfying sense of storytelling with few loose ends.
Written by, directed by and starred in by Nichols, Cortez is full of moments that that are true to life. Whether it’s a passionate kiss or a bit of dialogue exchanged between family members, this film feels realistic in its pacing and representation. In Cortez, absurd fights between mother and daughter over television, “breakfast cookies” and who is doing the homework mirror many every-day parenting situations one might witness. The style Nichols chose as director to portray these moments in is also unique.
Per the history of filmmaking, much of the movement associated with the free cam, that is camera jostling and the distinctive “shaky camera” style Nichols and her crew depend on in several scenes for aesthetic, began as a move signature to avant-garde cinema. It has contemporarily also transferred over from documentary styling to lend a more realistic feel to many works of cinematic fiction. It works well in this case. An abundance of immersive scenes composed to draw the viewer into a specific situation or perspective of the frame make Cortez a visual treat.
Technique is a prominent component to Cortez, which is one of several works entered in the DIFF 2017 Narrative Features Competition and is an official selection of the 2017 Slamdance Film Festival.
It’s less so a film about achieving stardom at any price, and more a film about what it means to become whole.
January 20, 2017
Slamdance 2017 Review: CORTEZ, A Quietly Affecting and Beautifully Acted Debut
Cheryl Nichols makes her feature directorial debut with Cortez, a quietly affecting character drama set in the southwest.
by Teresa Nieman
For every path our lives take, countless alternate paths that could have been followed branch out in our imaginations like hairline fractures. Once you've made one decision, you can think about how the other options might have shaken out, but you can never go back and make them happen in the precise manner they would have. And you can never go home again.
In Cortez, wayward musician Jesse (Arron Shiver) attempts to try on the life he could have led, but chose to abandon. With his tour having just fizzled out, he decides to avoid his next publicity appointment in favor of drifting through a small southwestern town—in search of his ex-girlfriend, Anne (director Cheryl Nichols). His long-suffering friend and manager Eric (Drago Sumonja) tries to persuade him otherwise, but Jesse is that sort of blissfully stubborn breed of selfish. Unable to see anything but the immediate gratification in front of him, he shows up at Anne's workplace and shoehorns himself back into her life.
Frazzled roadhouse waitress Anne is less than thrilled to see Jesse when he shows up unannounced. Their history is revealed only in fragments through key dialogue snippets, but suffice it say: it didn't end well. Jesse had a history of substance abuse and obviously retains anger issues. But, like many of his ilk (both cinematic cousins and real-life counterparts), Jesse is charming, romantic and fun. He has the ability to make those around him forgive the past, give endless second chances, and believe that things might be different this time. The gut-punch is that, at least for a brief moment, he truly believes this himself.
At the beginning of the film, Jesse is having something of a profound moment in a natural hot springs with a man who tells him a story. The story involves the man stopping over in a town (Cortez, somewhere in New Mexico), unexpectedly, and ultimately remaining there for decades after falling in love with a beautiful woman and having a child. Possibly inspired by this narrative—it's unclear when the hot springs conversation takes place—Jesse discovers that his own version of this outcome has transpired without him. Anne has a son who is roughly 11 years old, and whose age and red hair mark him unmistakably as Jesse's; an offspring of whose existence the musician never had any knowledge.
Cortez doesn't fill a niche that hasn't been adequately tackled in other films, per se. I was reminded heavily of Kenneth Lonergan's You Can Count On Me (albeit with lovers in place of siblings), which also features a beloved ne'er-do-well welcomed back into a familial fold, only to prove he may be fundamentally incapable of co-existing within it. Cortez follows this familiar trajectory, and some of the scenes can be predicted from miles away—seen in advance just as clearly as the mountains surrounding the titular town.
Yet, that inevitability also lends a squirmy sense of dread and melancholy to the film that serves it well. Director and star Cheryl Nichols and Arron Shiver are romantic partners in real life, which gives their performances an ease and natural chemistry that makes their fictional history not only believable, but touching. Prolific actress Judith Ivey also gives a memorable turn as Anne's blunt, perhaps too-hospitable southern ma. Often with low-budget indies, there are two humps that need to be overcome in order for films to stand out and be taken seriously. One is poor acting—and Cortez has no problems there, as the entire cast fits into their roles like they're stepping into well-worn shoes. I would have gladly spent more time with these characters in their dreamy little desert town.
The other hump? Production values. A film doesn't need to have a completely polished sheen or employ the highest-grade camera equipment to feel competent. Mise-en-scène, intuitive edits, and attractive compositions can make all the difference. Cheryl Nichols has an excellent sense of when to let the camera drift or dance, and when to minimize its presence. The southwestern landscape is effortlessly gorgeous, but it shines quietly in Cortez as a character in itself, its endless labyrinthine hills as inviting as they are mysterious and intimidating.
It's not easy to find cinema that transports the viewer into a place filled with people who genuinely seem to have existed before the film begins and long after it rolls credits. Perhaps Nichols and Shiver being real-life partners who actually have ties to the region contributed heavily to this sensation—but Cortez is not a documentary, nor a home movie. It's a fully-fledged film, and a special one worth seeking out.
January 20, 2017
Slamdance Film Review: Cortez
By Ali Shimkus
Cortez follows the story of struggling musician Jesse (Arron Shiver) as he is aimlessly drifts from town to town, trying to make it as a solo musician after the breakup of his band. As it is revealed that his album sales are dismal and that most of his current tour is being cancelled, Jesse starts to become despondent, and his manager, Erik (Drago Sumonja), tries to keep him on track until the end of the ill-fated tour. Jesse has other plans. He ditches Erik and decides to travel to one of his old haunts, Cortez, and look up a woman from his past, Anne (Cheryl Nichols). While it is clear that there is a fair amount of animosity between them (Anne’s reaction to seeing Jesse is to throw a beer bottle at his head), he is persistent and is eventually able to charm her into spending the night with him.
The film leaves something to the imagination—the reason behind the demise of Anne and Jesse’s relationship in the past is never touched upon, other than showing Anne’s attraction to artists who do not always have her best interests at heart and hinting that Jesse was using drugs when he and Anne were first together. Despite being “clean,” Jesse is definitely not sober throughout the movie, and his anger seems to pop up in very threatening ways, especially when Jesse invites himself over to Anne’s mother’s house. While Erik seems to be genuinely caring toward Jesse, Jesse often spits it back in his face, and during one particular episode, he beats up on Erik, and it is revealed that throughout Jesse’s turbulent career as a musician, Erik is the only one who has consistently stuck with him and helped him.
In a scene where Anne and Jesse hitchhike on the back of a truck to attend a bonfire party, Jesse uses his sweet talking to lure Anne back to him, and the viewer understands how Anne was drawn to Jesse in the first place, though Anne says at one point that Jesse “kicked everyone’s ass” back when they were together, “including hers,” hinting that, while on drugs, Jesse may have been abusive. Jesse jokes and shrugs off the remarks, giving the viewer an ambiguous view of what their relationship may have been like. Further, while Jesse probes deeper into Anne’s life in her small town, he is forced to face the consequences of his past and his eventual realization that there might be something more fulfilling than what he has been chasing his whole life as a musician.
Cinematically, Cortez is a beautiful film and focuses on the wild, unpredictable nature of the Southwest, juxtaposed against Jesse’s similarly uncontrollable personality. The styling of the sets, including Anne’s mother’s house and the bar where Anne works, stay in the Southwestern aesthetic and give a sense that the film is almost a Western, set in a modern-day premise. Jesse’s styling as a rockabilly, country boy who is also in many ways a washed-up rockstar lends to his charm and renegade attitude. The viewer is almost torn between trusting Jesse, the flawed protagonist of the story, and seeing how he can be domineering and selfish in his relationships. In Cortez, the viewer watches as Jesse, looking to rekindle a lost love and make it as a musician, comes across something more valuable than gold. –Ali Shimkus
The Year of First-Time Female Filmmakers | Slamdance 2017
By Phil Guie
January 23, 2017
…Cheryl Nichols’s poignant Cortez starts off as a road movie centered on a severely immature musician, Jesse (Arron Shiver), who is on a quest to find a life-rejuvenating hot spring in the American Southwest. The rocker reunites unexpectedly with an old flame, Anne (Nichols), whom he hasn’t seen in more than a decade. This is followed by another incident, which turns everything on its head and sets up a situation in which Jesse’s tendency for selfishness finally meets its match.
Nichols utilizes long takes consisting entirely of her characters alone with their thoughts, forced to confront the decisions that led them to where they are. The movie is a character study of a man-child, who is spiritually and emotionally empty, despite his material success. However, unlike most depictions of men-children, Jesse’s march to adulthood is played more for pathos than laughs. In trying to make up for the past, he tends to make things worse, sometimes to a harrowing degree. The labyrinthine mountain passes and overgrown wilderness adjacent to Anne’s town serve as a fitting metaphor for Jesse’s emotional state as he seeks the antidote to his malaise…
'It Can Be a Rocky Road': 'Cortez' Filmmakers on How to Write, Act, and Direct as a Team
January 23, 2017
by Christopher Boone
In 'Cortez,' a musician wanders back into an old flame's life after 10 years, completely unprepared for what happens next.
Creative pursuits take us down many different roads, and as someone who was drawn into New Mexico ten years ago, I can say with certainty that the Land of Enchantment has earned its moniker when it comes to pulling in artists of all kinds.
The narrative feature Cortez, written by Cheryl Nichols & Arron Shiver and directed by Nichols, explores the aftermath of a relationship between a musician and an artist that was forged in New Mexico, at the point when their paths unexpectedly cross again. Nichols and Shiver also star in the film—Nichols as the artist, Anne, and Shiver as the musician, Jesse.
Cortez premiered at Slamdance 2017, and NFS had the opportunity to talk to the filmmakers about collaborating on every aspect of the film, what inspired them to make their film, the small town in New Mexico that played such a crucial role in the film and real life, and how their own relationship found its way into their work.
No Film School: As a New Mexican filmmaker, it's great to talk to filmmakers who are making films in New Mexico.
Arron Shiver: I was born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and then I moved to Ute Park, New Mexico, when I was nine. Ute Park was a tiny little town. There was probably like 40 people there. Then our house burned down randomly within a couple of months of moving in, so we moved to Taos, [New Mexico], because it was the nearest place with a grocery store. We ended up in this beautiful, amazing, artistic community where I have roots for the rest of my life just by happenstance. Cortez is basically born of me being from Taos in a certain way.
NFS: Cortez is named after a fictional town in northern New Mexico, and I was wondering if you could tell us about the importance of setting your story there and how the location influences the film and the story?
Shiver: The town is definitely a character in the story. We always meant to tell the story that way. [Our fictional town] Cortez is the double for Taos. Taos has always been a crossroads. It was a trading center in the Old West. Spiritual seekers have ended up in Taos forever. So it's a place that people come to find something or to meet other people or to make a change in their life, and that's very much what Cortez is about.
"Just the light alone is worth shooting in Taos because it's so unique."
NFS: It had been quite a while since anyone had actually shot a film based in Taos, despite the fact that we've had a lot of production over the decades in New Mexico.
Cheryl Nichols: Yeah, it's weird because one of our producers, Carl Lucas, is from Roswell, New Mexico, and he had said, "Well, let's shoot [in Roswell] because I have some connections and stuff." I was like, "No, dear. We have to shoot it in Taos." It was really important. It's uniquely beautiful, and the light there is crazy. Just the light alone is worth shooting in Taos because it's so unique because [the elevation] is so high. It's just crazy, the sunsets are bright pink. New Mexico is a unique place, but Taos in particular is so beautiful.
Arron Shiver and Jackson Shiver in 'Cortez'Credit: Courtesy of the filmmakers
Also, the idea was that this woman has retreated with her mother into this tiny mountain town, a place [where] you could hide, and that's definitely what this place was. I used to drive from California to Texas to visit my parents, and my friend says, "You need to go through Taos."
So I'd been going to Taos for eight or nine years, never met Arron, and he lived there the whole time. He was an actor in New Mexico, but I never met him. I met him in L.A., actually, eight years later. That was another reason we decided to set it there because the story we were telling was the story of going and finding someone, ending up with the life that you didn't know that you were going to have, and that's kind of what happened with Arron and me because chances are we met a few times before, but never knew we were meant to really meet each other.
NFS: What about this story in particular compelled you to make this film now?
Shiver: I think Cheryl and I knew that we wanted to work together because we had a great connection when we first met. I had a lot of respect for her as an actor, and I decided to ask her to work on something [together]. We didn't quite know what it was. That was four years ago now.
We just sat together and told each other the story of our lives. As those stories were unfolding, it [became] clear what was important to us at that time, and what still is important to us, [which are] the themes that we wanted to talk about, such as love, romantic love, and for me, being a father and what that actually means, how to be a man in this world, and what it means to truly be responsible.
So we came up with this story about these two people who had had a wild youth and then had a violent separation, and then what would happen if he went and found her ten years later in the middle of a dark night of the soul, for lack of a better term, and how would that unfold?
Nichols: For me, something that was really important to us when we were writing was we kept going back to what the truth of the story was. When Arron and I write together, the movies that we love and the movies that we want to make are movies that are grounded and truthful, honest pieces, where the acting and the writing are coming from an honest, truthful place. The things that we talked about a lot were movies like Paris, Texas, Tender Mercies, and Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore, and the play Fool for Love.
"We tried to do as many things as we possibly could to make the story honest and real and connected because, from my perspective, that's how I want to tell stories."
Also, Arron is a father. The kid who plays Arron's kid in the movie is actually Arron's kid. So we tried to do as many things as we possibly could to make the story honest and real and connected because, from my perspective, that's how I want to tell stories. That's how I want to sit with an audience. As an audience member, I want to go see something that I can really dig into. That's the other part of why we told this particular story in the way that we told it.
NFS: As partners in real life and co-writers on the script, what was the writing process like for this film?
Nichols: It's funny because Arron and I are very different writers. We would meet three times a week and just sit there and tell each other stories. We started outlining, and then once we outlined, we would just sort of pass it back and forth. In the meantime, we were starting to fall in love and we were starting to travel together. We went to Taos to be with Jackson, Arron's son, who is the kid in the movie, and we would write on the road. Arron would type in the passenger seat and I would dictate while driving, and then we would switch off.
Arron is the kind of writer who will write nothing for six months and then he'll sit down and write like a burning bush. The dinner scene in the movie is something that Arron wrote in three hours and we never changed a single word. It just came out and we never changed it.
What I tend to do is over-edit [and be very] analytical, "I've-got-references-for-everything-from-4,000-movies." I've got a very specific way of writing that takes me forever. When we pass things back and forth, Arron will just bang something out and then it will take me a week to work on one scene. So sometimes it can be pretty maddening for both of us, actually. It took us about a year and a half to get the script to a place where we felt like it was good. Even then, we were still editing on set.
Cheryl Nichols in 'Cortez'.Credit: Courtesy of the filmmakers
NFS: Did you work on separate pieces of the script, then pass it back and forth to bring the script together as a whole?
Shiver: We didn't work on separate pieces and pass them back and forth that much honestly. I feel like it was one of those things where we would talk for an hour or so, and then it would be like, "All right. I think I got a good handle on this. Let me take a whack at it." The dinner scene went like that and all of a sudden, we had 30 pages of the script over one afternoon. But then it took a year to get some of those beginning sequences that are just little bits in a motel room between my character and Eric, for instance, which took a little more finessing.
NFS: Let's talk about the dinner scene. You've got two characters who are happy to have Jesse there for dinner, and you've got two others who are really wary about what's about to happen. Arron, How did you want to structure the scene to make it work in the film?
Shiver: First of all, it was meant to be even longer and more tortuous. We originally had a concept for it to go on and on and on. Somebody described [the scene] as an emotional horror film, and I've just adopted the phrase. We've all had that awkward dinner with somebody who has had too much to drink that is part of our family and we're all sitting there going, "Wow. Where is this going to go? This is pretty uncomfortable." I've certainly had those dinners in my life.
I've never heard anybody describe it the way you did where there's two characters that are really happy to have Jesse there, and there's two characters that are very wary about what could happen, but I love that innate tension in the script where two people have a completely different idea of what's going on than the other two people who are sitting here. And there's Jesse who is the catalyst bouncing between the two energies. Yeah, I totally intended that, and that's great that you picked up on that.
"When it came to editing the scene, I just took that feeling of whipping, and I just beat that into the scene."
NFS: Cheryl, shooting a dinner table scene with five distinct characters, while it may seem simple, is an absolute bear on set to cover. Talk about what your strategies were for achieving such a natural feel in the final edit while still getting all of that coverage.
Nichols: The scene has some pretty great actors in it. It has Judith Ivey, who's a two-time Tony Award-winning actor. Arron and Drago Sumonja went to Cal Arts and studied acting together. And then we have Jackson, Arron's actual kid, and me. So it was a pretty solid group of actors, and I knew we would have a lot of range. I would be able to let that go if we just played the scene out. I worked with Kelly Moore, the DP, on how we wanted to cover it, and we originally wanted to cover it in one shot. Then right before we shot it, we were like, "Screw it, let's do dinner-table coverage."
We did the whole scene through, top to bottom, 15 times. It was really, really grueling, but what happened was, it started to get that feeling of everybody being so tired, Jesse just whipping [Anne verbally]. When it came to editing the scene, I just took that feeling of whipping, and I just beat that into the scene.
Two-time Tony Award winner Judith Ivey in 'Cortez'Credit: Courtesy of the filmmakers
NFS: Cheryl, directing your first feature in and of itself is a daunting task and you've also cast yourself in a lead role. What were some of your strategies on set for juggling the responsibilities as a director, a lead actress, and a co-writer?
Nichols: Cassidy Freeman was there. She's my friend and she produced the movie. She and Arron, depending on if I was in the scene and depending on who was playing opposite me in the scene, would be on the monitor acting as a surrogate director.
We had also done a lot of prep before the shoot. I had a crazy book with storyboards and our color palette. Everybody was on the same page before we even got on set about what the movie was going to look like, smell like, feel like.
And Kelly, our DP, and I speak the same language. So it was easy for me to tell him what I wanted, to get feedback from him, and then to trust when I stepped on set that I was in good hands. We were very prepared by the time we got there. Still, shit went crazy, you know, like it always does.
NFS: Since you guys are partners in real life, I imagine you never actually walk away from the work. In terms of making this film, what was that like? Was that something that you thought worked well for you, being immersed in the project 24/7?
Shiver: Man, it can be a rocky road. I think anything worth doing is going to have some trials and tribulations. Certainly trying to have a healthy relationship with good communication while also producing and acting in a movie together while one of you is directing it, I mean, that is kind of a recipe for insanity.
"I would go into traffic to protect Cheryl's art, and I know she would do the same thing for me."
Cheryl and I might butt heads, but we always come back to the fact that we really just respect each other as artists at the end of the day. I would go into traffic to protect Cheryl's art, and I know she would do the same thing for me. That backbone of trust allows us to take risks where we might not working with a person that we don't know as intimately.
Nichols: I don't mean this in an abusive way, but Arron and I are good about taking what's going on with us, working it out in an artistic way and being able to express it. That's kind of what he's talking about with taking risks. We can be pretty transparent with each other. We always have been even when we didn't know each other that well.
So it's kind of a blessing and a curse, but the blessing of it is that when we show up to set, we are able to do some really cool work because we can be brave with each other, and I think that's pretty special.
NFS: Arron, what was it like working with your son Jackson as your son in the film?
Shiver: You know what's funny? I did not want Jackson to be in the movie. I really didn't. I just thought, "I don't want people to say he just cast his son." That was the first thing. So we made Jackson audition, and then we made him attend a callback, and then we made sure that it was something that he wanted to do. He decided he could use the money to buy a PlayStation, that was the final thing that pushed him over the edge [laughs].
On our second day, I showed up and we had to shoot the scene where [Jesse and his son] get lost in the forest. I was trying to be his dad and trying to be the producer of the movie and trying to play this character all in the same moment, and I thought, "You know what? I've got to trust that there's a whole community of people looking out to make sure Jackson doesn't step on a pine cone or whatever, and so I've got to just be his co-worker and not be his dad." Once I got over that little hump and started just working with him as an actor, it was a complete pleasure.
Arron Shiver and Jackson Shiver in 'Cortez'Credit: Courtesy of the filmmakers
He was way better than everybody. He was off book before anybody else. He was pretty much nailing it in one take because he didn't want to do more than one take. He was so good, it was like, "This guy's a pro. We all just need to be on this level."
I don't know if he'll grow up and be an actor, but he naturally understands how to be himself in front of the camera in a way that is actually quite inspiring. Even Judith Ivey was like, "This kid is so real. There's nothing he's doing that's not believable," which is kind of amazing for a 12-year-old. So he was a real joy to work with once I got over trying to parent him through the process.
NFS: What was your biggest challenge when making Cortez, and what lessons did you learn from that challenge that you could pass along to other filmmakers?
Shiver: My biggest challenge was being the producer and the actor. There were many times where I was concerned about the schedule and about whether we were going to get all of our stuff on the day, while at the same time, having to play the character and do that service, so that was the biggest challenge for me.
The thing that I learned was I could really trust my crew. I could trust our DP and I could trust Cheryl. For example, going back to the dinner scene, we only shot that one scene that day, but we only spent about three or four hours shooting. The rest of the day was setting up lights, and we had to do that, but it was driving me crazy as an actor waiting around for it to get going, and then thinking about all the time it's going to take to cover all this stuff.
Then Cheryl came to me and said, "Once we get these lights set, we're going to be okay." And sure enough, we went and it didn't stop for four hours. So that was a great lesson for me. Hire people you can trust and let them do their job. Trust them to do their job.
"I want to do everything right. I want to be the good girl. Now I'm learning how to be the bad girl."
Nichols: For me, this is not the first film that I've made or produced. It's the first film that I've directed, and my challenge is that I get caught up with everybody else's opinion of me and of what I'm doing, and I take too much advice.
So on this film, I decided that whatever I was going to do creatively was not going to have anything to do with anybody else's opinion and that I wasn't going to listen to naysaying. If somebody felt like something was going to be hard or they felt we're not going to get money or whatever, I was going to jump and trust that the net would appear.
Fortunately, we worked with my best friend, Cassidy, and she is one of the most positive people I've ever met in my life, so I had some support in doing that. That's been a hard, hard lesson for me to learn because I want to do it right. I want to do everything right. I want to be the good girl. Now I'm learning how to be the bad girl.