Paula S. Bernstein talks with Beth B

Ostensibly, Beth B’s Two Small Bodies, arriving in theaters this Spring from Castle Rock, is a straightforward detective story about a cop probing the disappearance of a single woman’s two children. But, true to form, director Beth B plunges deep into Neal Bell’s play to find a murkier morality. When authority is usurped and the boundary between justice and corruption erodes before our eyes, the routine criminal investigation develops into something much more insidious.

Verbally and physically sparring with one another to the point of assault, Eileen Maloney (Suzy Amis) and Lt. Brann (Fred Ward) simultaneously prod the audience to question their most basic assumptions about motherhood, sexuality and violence. Even the most seemingly banal exchanges and blatant actions begin to take on alternative meanings until the very premise of the piece is challenged.

In Two Small Bodies, Beth B has unearthed material that’s so embedded with the primary themes that inform all of her work, one might have concluded she wrote the play herself. As explosively subversive as any of her previous films and perhaps even more unsettling, Two Small Bodies’ claustrophobic, intense sexual banter probes deeper into our collective psyches than many more overtly provocative efforts.

Filmmaker: How did you first become associated with this project?

B: It was 1990 and I was interested in trying to do something very small and I asked a few people if they knew of anything with just two characters – you know, going for the ultra-low-budget concept. A friend recommended Two Small Bodies, which was originally a play written by Neal Bell. I read it and was both captivated and puzzled and felt that it would be extraordinarily challenging [to adapt]. So I decided to option it and then work on raising the money.

Filmmaker: Was it easier for you to raise money for it than for a larger project?

B: No, in some ways, people are very put off by the idea of two people in one location, which for me is fascinating.

Filmmaker: How did you go about getting funding? Did you initially approach the Germans?

B: No, I initially approached people here in the United States and didn’t get much of a response. And so, I had heard that in terms of European television there are opportunities to explore subjects that are more unusual. If you look at European films, they are much more provocative and unique in a way, whereas Hollywood sort of follows industry standards. So it made sense to go to Europe, and German television then ended up funding it.

Filmmaker: Would European funding be your first choice next time then?

B: I don’t really have the luxury to say "this is going to be my first, second or last choice." I really seek out whatever possibilities there are. And wherever the funding comes from, that’s where I’ll take it from.

Filmmaker: Do you think there’s a larger audience in Europe for a film like this than in America?

B: I think it’s a matter of distributors taking a certain kind of risk. There are audiences that will definitely be interested in this kind of film. I think what’s really provocative about this film is that it’s something that everyone can relate to – I mean, the battle of the sexes is something that everybody throughout time has always been fascinated with, and yet [the film] touches on so many other issues: child abuse and women’s identities; where women are in regards to the ’60s sort of radical feminism; where are we today in the ’90s; men’s roles and their identities; and preconceptions of women and women’s roles. It’s a wonderful exploration of gamesmanship between men and women, and it’s extremely erotic. Also, the film is erotic without being explicit, which I find really exciting. Nudity is interesting for the first 30 seconds and after that...to me, it’s what’s hidden behind closed doors, what’s off the screen, what is alluded to sexually that is really fascinating.

Filmmaker: I read the play a couple of years ago and it feels very different on screen. Did you make many changes?

B: There are changes in format and there are some scenes that were pulled out. But the dialogue is really Neal’s and it stays pretty close to the original. Which is really necessary in a way because every line of dialogue leads into the next line. I don’t see that there is any reason to change something when it works.

Filmmaker: The setting seemed almost purposefully ambiguous. It’s based on a play written in the ’70s and was filmed in Germany and yet, you get the sense that you could be anywhere at anytime.

B: To me, that was one of the most important parts of the film, the universality of it. To be able to have these two characters who really create an identification that all of us at one time or another could feel. The way that the set was designed and the location, it was all geared towards that.

Filmmaker: Early in the film, at different moments, I wasn’t even sure if you were using color or black and white film. The color seemed to have its own distinct texture. How did you achieve that look?

B: To me, that’s what cinema is about, creating another reality. It’s not real. So for me, also with this piece, it has a lot to do with fantasy. Where are the lines that separate reality and fantasy and what are the boundaries that people lay down to prevent them from going too far into the fantasy? I wanted sort of a surreal looking film because I think it invites the audience to use their imagination and to finally realize that this is not real. It works to create a very claustrophobic situation which is what the film is also about – two people who are unable to extricate themselves from this situation and who become obsessed with each other and the circumstances in which they find themselves. I was also inspired by Expressionist filmmakers of the ’20s and ’30s.

Filmmaker: So you returned to Germany...

B: Yeah, in some ways I sort of grew up with Lang, Murnau and Pabst. It was also the idea that this situation really takes place in its own time and in its own place, which is what allows these people to engage themselves in this rather perverse drama. Because all the limits have been taken away from them. They don’t have any contact with the outside world. They, in a sense, have created their own world and their own rules.

Filmmaker: I’ve recently watched Salvation, Belladonna, and other films of yours and I found that sexuality and morality were two of the key concepts in them. In that way, Two Small Bodies seems to be a continuation of your earlier work. Do you see it as that?

B: I think those themes run through all my work. I think that’s what drives people in this world: sexuality, power, control. That is at the core of our souls to a large degree so it fascinates me.

Filmmaker: The characters also create their own morality in the film. Do you think the audience will be sympathetic with either or both of the characters?

B: It changes constantly and that’s what gives it the dynamics and the intrigue. I think that in the beginning, people might have a tendency to choose sides or to see the detective as what he is – an intruder, who basically breaks into this woman’s life. By the end, what is so hopeful about the film is that it’s really about accepting difference in regards to morality and being open to the idea of change. That’s where the battle of the sexes becomes more of a love affair, which is basically what the film is. Although they go through hell to get there, it’s basically a detective story that turns into a love story.

Filmmaker: Because the setting is so ambiguous and the issues of morality are so ambiguous, I wonder if people will walk away with different interpretations of the story.

B: This film focuses on certain issues of violence and sexuality that are very confrontational and in some ways, it gives each person their own space to interpret them in a very personal way. Also, there are many ways to see the film – on the surface, it’s a detective story. But it could also be about a bored married couple who are acting out these fantasies because their sex life has become so mundane that they create these imaginary children who then disappear. Other people have said to me, "couldn’t it also be a prostitute and her client?"

Filmmaker: The title is also open to interpretations.

B: I’ve always seen it as a metaphor for the two characters in the film as well as the two lost children. But also, I think it does have to do with the lost children within each of us. We grow into adulthood and are in a constant state of repression. These two people come to a place where they are accepting those lost, hurt feelings that they have within themselves and it’s something that they are able to experience with each other, but have not been able to find with other people. It sort of reminds me of Last Tango in Paris in that way. I think it has to do with relinquishing control. In the film, there is the struggle to find a balance: Eileen, [who works in a strip joint], has already thrown away those elements of bondage and she’s already started to move to a place of finding a more balanced existence, whereas Lt. Brann walks in with his binds intact and wants to put her back into bondage.

Filmmaker: As he’s relinquishing his role as a detective, the audience has to take on that role by interpreting the facts for ourselves. Especially since we can’t trust their answers.

B: I think that it also calls up questions about situations not being all black and white. Basically, when he arrives, he’s already judged her, tried her, found her guilty and executed her. The film, however, tries to look at the grey areas in this situation. The subtleties that are much more important to look at than the generalities. I think that we all individually have a responsibility and in a sense Two Small Bodies is asking the audience to take responsibility.

Filmmaker: So, you have faith in the audience that they will be actively participating?

B: Of course. I have faith in everything.