by Amanda Feder
At 24, I found myself faced with a strange and alienating reality, particularly after having just finished the cliché college experience: I found myself having to put effort into finding a date. And then soon after, I found myself making a film about it.
Of course, the short I made, “Sex on Wheels”, is actually about a lot more than that. The film was meant to be a portrait of the bike community in Toronto, as seen through the eyes of an outsider (at 24, I didn’t know how to ride a bike). A running joke I had at the time was how not knowing to ride my bike was killing my dating life, and a series of random/wonderful events turned that idea into a film project.
I’ll spare you the semi-pretentious director’s statement that perhaps no filmmaker can avoid, highlighting all the themes and hidden messages and triumphs that they find in their work, even in something as light as “Sex on Wheels.”
At the end of the day, I found myself, a feminist, to be the director of a film that follows me trying to find a man. And it made me feel weird.
I am in no way saying that women shouldn’t explore the theme of dating in a variety of ways. I also don’t mean to imply that I thought my tiny film was going to influence anyone – most of the screenings of the film were only attended by my friends – those who had seen the film a billion times as I made it and were forced to be supportive (love you guys).
But I found myself feeling uncomfortable submitting the film to women’s film festivals. And then I found myself hesitating to put it on my CV. And then I found myself meeting new and inspiring women, and kind of cringing through my description of my past work.
The personal is political, situated knowledges, the politics of location – feminist mantras run through my head, reassuring me that there is nothing wrong with the work I have created.
But then I think of Julia, my cousin who so graciously agreed to appear in my film. She was four or five years old at the time, but already had the wisdom to sternly advise me on camera that I shouldn’t care what a boy thought of me lacking biking skills. When these oh-so-serious words came out of her mouth, my heart broke in so many ways. Of course my first thought was this is going to make for a fucking amazing scene! But then came the guilt. What will she think of this film when she grows up? What am I teaching her about dating, biking, filmmaking, life’s priorities?
Am I being too dramatic? As an aspiring female filmmaker, what is my social responsibility? What are the implications of what we put out in the world, even something tiny?
What makes a work feminist? Is it found in the vision of the director, or in the interpretation of the audience? Is this even a productive question?
Of course there is so much to say, and only 600 words to say it in. But I wanted to share my initial thoughts about this process, and would love to hear from others.
“Sex on Wheels” is screening online for free in the NSI Online Short Film Festival for the next three months. You can watch the film here.