‘Everything is possible’
At 90, Alanis Obomsawin is more optimistic than ever
CONCORD, N.H. — Some people would be tired after working for 60 years, but not Alanis Obomsawin.
She’s 90 and more optimistic than ever. And she has good reason to be jubilant. This weekend, the New Hampshire documentary maker will receive a prestigious lifetime achievement award in Peterborough, after she’s spent a lifetime in pursuit of the most impactful stories from around Indian Country.
For Obomsawin, receiving the Edward MacDowell Medal is as much an honor to those featured in her documentaries as it is to her for her stories of Indigenous suffering and resilience.
She spoke to the Globe about her career, how she started making documentaries, and why she’s so optimistic about the future.
Q. At this point, you’ve created 57 films over the course of a nearly 60-year career. How does it feel to reflect on that? A. It’s my everyday life. I love what I do. It’s not a punishment or sacrifice for me to do any of my work. I enjoy every minute of it. So I don’t think of it. I’ve never talked so much about all the films I’ve done as I do now because people ask me questions all the time about it.
What I think about is the people in those documentaries that are so important to us, to all of us. And it’s history.
Q. Tell me about the changes you’ve seen in the time you’ve been doing documentary film.
A. There’s been so many changes since I started in 1967. It’s amazing the change that I’ve seen, and for the better right now. The doors are open to our people in all kinds of ways. In filmmaking, it’s a big change. There’s a lot of encouragement for young people to come into this discipline.
I do a lot of mentoring and master classes and I tell young people, if ever there was a time that you can do anything you want, it’s right now. Everything is possible. And I couldn’t have talked like that 10 years ago, even. So the changes are big. And I even find Canada at the front in terms of the interest towards our people, which is also surprising in a lot of ways. So I’m feeling so great about the possibilities for people to be what they want to be, to be respected, to be encouraged to learn their language, whereas in my time, you know, we were punished if we spoke our language. In Canada, I think in general, people want to see justice done to our people. So it’s a very different feeling for all of us.
For years I certainly didn’t think there were that many good people around. But I don’t feel like that anymore because it’s been proven to me that I was wrong. There’s good people everywhere.
Q. You have some deep connections to the state of New Hampshire. Can you talk about that?
A. I was born in New Hampshire, in Lebanon. I only remained there for six months, then my mother came to the community where she’s from. I was left there with her sister, and that’s where I was raised until school time.
Q. You went to Odanak (a First Nations Reserve in Quebec) after New Hampshire?
A. Yes, and that’s where I was raised. But, you know, what’s interesting to me, like a lot of our people went back all over New England because that was really our territory. And I heard a lot about Dartmouth College and how it started, how they got the land and all that history. And it was all Wabanki territory. So whether I was there or not, I learned a lot about New England.
Q. What was it like growing up?
A. When I was small, every house, especially if the mother was Abenaki, for sure they spoke Abenaki in the house. It’s not like that now unfortunately, but people are learning the language. It’s not like it was in those days when it was a spoken language in everyday life. It’s very beautiful.
It’s good that the children are encouraged to learn it and feel good about themselves, which was very different in those days. So you see the changes.
Q. How did you find filmmaking in the first place?
A. To tell you the truth, it wasn’t me who found it. It found me.
I had lots of difficulties at school. I got beat up a lot. When the teacher opened the book about the history of Canada, I knew I was going to get beat up that day.
By the time I was 14, I thought the children really hate me because of the story they hear from these official books that talk about us being savages, and that we went around scalping the poor whites. This is what they were teaching in the classroom. I was the only Indigenous person.
All the kids would turn around and wait for me when I came out. And so I thought it’s because the children are told to hate us. They are learning, officially, that Indigenous people are morons. They don’t know anything. They’re vulgar, they’re ugly, they’re dirty, all those things, because your skin is not white, so therefore you’re dirty. So then I thought if the children could hear another story, they wouldn’t be like that. And that’s where I started from. I thought if they could hear the stories that I hear, they wouldn’t have this kind of hateful feeling. And I was right.
Q. What kinds of stories did you hear?
A. In those days in Odanak, we didn’t have electricity or running water. We had a well, and at night it was oil lamps. You sit around in a kitchen and the adults, mainly the guys who’ve been guiding in the bush, would tell stories, and the animals were always involved.
And I used to be so … attached to listening to those kinds of stories because the animals, they were like humans. They had a personality, they behaved a certain way. And they communicated a certain way and it was wonderful. So if you had four or five children listening to one story, you had four or five films right there because there is no image. It’s your imagination. You hear someone saying something so you make yourself your own image. And if you have four children one next to the other, all the images are different.
Q. Are you still drawn to the same stories as when you started?
A. It’s still like that. Everything is important. Everybody needs a voice. And I just love to listen to people. I never get tired. If they repeat themselves three times, then you just pick the best time.
This is what I keep telling young people who want to become a documentarian. If you get impatient and you don’t hear, don’t bother becoming that, because that’s what documentary filmmaking is. It’s not your story. It’s someone else’s story.
Q. Given the changes you’ve seen in your lifetime, what’s your outlook when it comes to the next generation of filmmakers?
A. There’s more possibilities than ever, especially here in Canada. We are very lucky in terms of institutional places, like the National Film Board of Canada, for instance.
It’s wonderful for the next generation that’s coming up. They’re going to have a much better chance than we had. So I think I feel rich that we have right now.
Interview was edited for length and clarity. Amanda Gokee can be reached at amanda.gokee@globe.com. Follow her on Twitter @amanda_gokee.