Through her involvement with Corona Lockdown Wildernis and Waarom stopt ie niet gewoon? [Why Doesn’t He Just Quit?], readers of Indy Film Library will already know Sanne Vermaas as a filmmaker of conviction: using the moving image to platform for important issues, and tell stories with impact. But finding her voice was not always straight-forward. She reflects on the importance of being true to yourself when taking on work – and daring to say no to projects that ask you to compromise that authenticity.
During my journalism studies, I was taught that you should put your own ideas in the background. Stay objective, don’t let yourself be influenced by your own opinions.
Nowadays, I think that isn’t always possible. True objectivity doesn’t exist, and a viewer is better off knowing who is making something.
Yet, that lesson permeated my work for a long time. I made films without really considering whether they suited me. Until I started wondering why some films were better and made me prouder. The answer turned out to be simple: because the subjects are close to my heart.
“Just don’t send me to Shell”
I have been a freelancer for most of my career, but I also worked as a director at a video production company for five years.
During my job interview, I was clear from the beginning: “Just don’t send me to Shell.” I knew Shell was a client, and I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to simply make a happy film there, without asking critical questions.
In the following five years, I grew enormously, both creatively and in figuring out what I really want. And yes, I did also made films for companies I wouldn’t work for now. Big Pharma, for example. Sometimes just doing what is asked of me hasn’t always been a problem for me. It is precisely by trying things out that you discover what suits you well.
For me, updating my website was often a moment of reflection. That is when you have to consider which clients you want to appeal to. And it became very clear that I particularly enjoy making films in the healthcare, arts, sustainability, and animal welfare sectors. I have written about the latter two before, for example in my blog about filming art projects.
That clarity allows me to decide more quickly whether or not I want to take on a job. Unfortunately, it did mean saying goodbye to some people I enjoyed working with. Fortunately, that usually happened very organically.
Not only the subjects, but also the people
As it turns out, not only do the subjects suit me, but the people in these sectors also attach the same value to interaction, professionalism, and humanity. For instance, during the pandemic, I discovered that I prefer not to make films for clients who are unwilling to invest time in a real-life meeting. Sure, that wasn’t possible for a while during the pandemic. But afterwards, there were still clients who wanted to do everything via video calls. Not my style. That one real-life meeting provides so much clarity. You know much better who you are working for, and you can take that into account.
Now, it’s not that I never have doubts anymore. During the last elections, Vrede voor Dieren (Peace for Animals) approached me. They had won the lottery for airtime for political parties and suddenly needed a spot. Does this suit me, I thought. Do I want to work for political parties?
I don’t often call myself a journalist anymore when doing freelance work, but still, that little voice surfaced. So I asked friends and fellow filmmakers what they would do. The conclusion was that it suited me perfectly. And that proved to be true. Because they didn’t want a flashy, misleading spot, but to tell authentically what they stand for, with real people.
Every time I deliver a film now, I feel that sense of pride. Pride that I am contributing to animal welfare for House of Animals. You can read exactly how that works in my blog about filming animals. Pride that my film is screening alongside the work of Sara Vrugt, an artist who calls herself “an activist with needle and thread”. And pride that I am helping a small theatre festival like Vuurol gain visibility.
What have I learned from this? You don’t have to strictly separate yourself from your own ideas. You bring yourself with you, even to your work. So it is perfectly fine to be critical about which assignments you accept and what suits you. That is not a luxury; it is what makes your work better. I hope to continue making films for a long time that give me, and hopefully the client too, that feeling.
