DIRECTOR WHEELER FOLLOWS THE LIGHT
Film and writing fuel a rich life; now the skills must be passed to others
When you've lived a life as deep and rich as the renowned filmmaker Anne Wheeler, where do you start to tell your own story?
For the Edmonton-born 74-year-old, who lived here until she was 45, it wasn't easy to look back on the triumphs, and the hard lessons, and to figure out which ones to put into her new collection of stories, Taken By the Muse: On the Path to Becoming a Filmmaker.
Would the book detail Wheeler's early success with Canadian gems such as Bye Bye Blues, and Loyalties? Or would the focus be on the years she lived and worked on the West Coast, directing classic Canadian TV series such as Da Vinci's Inquest and Cold Squad?
When you're Wheeler, one force guides all creative decisions — whatever story you're telling had better be good, and it had better have a message. So it is with Taken by the Muse, a coming-of-age-collection of what Wheeler refers to as “parables.”
“All the stories have an undercurrent, a lesson that has served me well for the rest of my life,” said Wheeler in a wide-ranging phone interview from her home in White Rock, B.C.
The book — which reads like lightning and is tough to put down — contains six stories taken from Wheeler's twenty-something years between 1971 and 1976.
These were years in which Wheeler pushed back against plans that others may have had for her — to become a music teacher, perhaps, or, to marry young and raise a family. Instead, Wheeler travelled widely before returning home to work alongside groundbreaking filmmakers including Tom Radford,
P.J. Reese, and Allan Stein at Edmonton's legendary Filmwest Associates.
That summary makes it sound as if there was a direct line from shrugging off expectations that didn't fit, finding the right path, and making a string of award-winning movies, documentaries, and television series.
That was not the case. But if the path was sometimes uneven, the through-line in the collection is clear. Wheeler was open to whatever came her way, and she paid attention to the voyage, believing there was a reason she encountered the people and places that she did. She was always, and forever, about the story.
The Journal talked to Wheeler about living in Edmonton, what Margaret Laurence had to say
about her adaptation of The Diviners, and the time she went through the ice on a snowmobile while filming near Fort Mcmurray. (By the way, signed copies of the book are available through Wheeler's website at annewheeler.com. Audreys also has the book.)
Q You have a math degree from the University of Alberta, which isn't always linked to filmmaking. What were your creative inspirations growing up?
A I took a math degree so I wouldn't have to do any papers. But Edmonton was always a great city for the arts. And growing up there, I was part of the tremendous drama program at Vic Comp. I had the lead in the year plays. In university, I did musical theatre with a group called The Jubalaires. I was an entertainer. And I had a strong sense of place. My grandparents came to homestead in eastern Alberta in 1905.
Q You left Edmonton in the early 1990s. Can you tell me about that?
A We weren't a big province, and there was a sense I'd had my turn. That's a Canadian thing — it's the reason we don't have a star system. People have the chance to lead in something, and then they are expected to step aside. I felt, in terms of Alberta, making four films in five years, that I had had a huge amount of support, financially, and within the community. There wasn't enough money to keep support
ing me at the level I was doing production. There was no way to make a living in between the big jobs. And there was no distribution system in Alberta. So it became a practical move. We moved to Salt Spring Island, and shortly after that, the (Ralph) Klein government came in and the film industry was destroyed anyway.
When I got to Vancouver, I could do TV, like Da Vinci's Inquest, or Canadian movies of the week, and have access to more Canadian producers and shows that would pay the bills between the bigger projects. But, it's very hard to get a Canadian audience to come out to a Canadian film. It's hard to get a Canadian-made film into the big theatres. They run for six weeks, and it doesn't turn a profit. It's been very frustrating for Canadian filmmakers in my lifetime, because we've never found a way to distribute our films and get people into the theatre to see them.
Q What about Netflix and other streaming services? Does that make it easier for Canadian filmmakers to get their products seen today?
A Theatres have moved into people's homes. I personally miss terribly the experience of coming together with a big group of people and watching a movie together. But I think we are making wonderful products. I was proud of Anne with an E. ( Wheeler directed several episodes of the Cbc/netflix series created by
Moira Walley-beckett.) And I directed a couple of episodes of a new (Netflix) series called Firefly Lane, which is based on an American book, but shot in Vancouver, with most of its directors being Canadian women.
Q You have other books in mind. Can you tell me about them?
A I have a cluster of stories about filmmaking experiences, more about what happens off the set rather than on the set. I have a cluster of stories around music because that's played a huge part in my life. It's been a unifying force and an enormous tool for when my mother became old and was afflicted with Alzheimer's – it was the connection between her and I that stayed alive. She might not know who I was, but she knew what key I sang in, and we sang together.
I want to do a novel about growing up with my father, whom I made a film about in the seventies. I have a whole box labelled “stories I have been given” that I want to do something with. They come from people like Doris Ward (the subject of a chapter in Taken by the Muse). I hope I will live long enough to do all that. It's late in my career to start writing books. I've written a lot of screenplays, but that's very different than books.
Q Do you see more movies and TV series in your future?
A I will make more movies, but they'll be stories that speak to me, and I don't care if they are little movies. I wouldn't say I won't do any more television series; they pay well and if they pick the right ones, they are a great joy. But my real agenda is to pass my skills on. I love mentoring. People bring me in to see a cut of their film, and I help with structure. That's the natural progression that life should take.
I don't feel weary. But I feel like time is running out and I feel anxious to do more, rather than less. I feel like an elder and an elder's responsibility is to pass it on. When someone asks me if I'm going to retire, I threaten them with bodily harm. Retire is something you do to cars.
Q What advice do you have for others who want to continue to pursue their own artistic dreams, however small?
A You have to stay open. I'm still growing. When I feel a little loss, I see the big tree in my backyard and it's 350 years old and every year it puts out new shoots and it keeps growing toward the light. That's all you can do.