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“Telling the Story Non-Linearly Felt Essential Because That’s How Trauma Often Works”: Alex Burunova On Her SXSW-Premiering Relationship Drama, Satisfaction
Satisfaction Emma Laird is both incandescent and haunted as she limns the before and after of trauma in Alex Burunova’s SXSW-premiering debut feature, Satisfaction. As Lola, a composer and pianist, Laird is charismatic and full of life in the past and painfully muted in the present, a contrast that engineers the film’s central narrative mystery. Through memory-triggered flashbacks and forwards, Satisfaction orbits around a moment of trauma, the film’s editing rhythms and narrative structure mirroring the emotional evasiveness and repression that Lola must deploy during a Greek island vacation with her musician boyfriend, Philip (Fionn Whitehead). But repression as self-preservation can only take Lola so far, and it’s a mysterious fellow vacationer, Elena, played by Iranian actress and producer Zar Amir Ebrahimi (Holy Spider), whose romantic possibility offers the composer a pathway to process her recent past. All of the above plays out between darkly lit London parties and the Greek island’s blinding white sands and austere minimalist villas, with Laird, seen recently as Alessandro Nivola’s furniture retailer husband’s wife in The Brutalist, giving a riveting, devastating performance. Below, I spoke to Burunova, whose background is in documentary, short films and immersive theater, about the film’s lengthy development, the alchemy behind cross-cutting, and the particular treacheries that can befall artist couples.
Filmmaker: Satisfaction unfolds in two timelines, one of which is a flashback that informs the present-day narrative throughout and leads up to a moment that changes the final trajectory of the film. Could you discuss this storytelling structure? Was your film scripted this way, or was this structure found in the edit? Given the themes of your film, why was it important to tell the story in a non-linear way? And what were the challenges of it in terms of the ways in which the audience takes in the story?
Burunova: The film was always scripted this way. I was drawn to the idea of two conflicting emotions intensifying simultaneously — the rush of falling in love in the past and the quiet unraveling of that love in the present. I wanted the audience to feel that duality — the tenderness of their beginning clashing against the ache of their present-day silence — culminating in the moment that caused the rupture between them.
I spent almost two years working on the structure alone. My walls were covered in sticky notes and emotional graphs, constantly moving things around to make sure the shifts in time felt seamless and emotionally resonant. It was like composing a piece of music — I had to find the right rhythm between the two timelines so they didn’t compete but rather fed into each other.
Telling the story non-linearly felt essential because that’s how trauma often works — it’s never experienced in a linear fashion. Memories resurface unexpectedly, especially in moments of quiet. I wanted the audience to experience Lola’s internal landscape in a visceral way — to feel the weight of her silence in the present, and simultaneously understand the depth of her love in the past.
The biggest challenge was flow. It had to feel like one continuous current — fluid and inevitable — as if the past was haunting the present. There’s a particular alchemy to cross-cutting that has to feel invisible but deeply felt.
Filmmaker: Were there any particular inspirations when it comes to the way you organized this cross-cutting? I thought a bit of Nicholas Roeg’s work here, particularly a film like Bad Timing.
Burunova: Actually, my biggest inspiration was Blue Valentine. The structure is not identical, but the emotional architecture is similar. In Blue Valentine, the past and present intercut in a way that creates this crushing inevitability — you witness love blossoming and disintegrating at once. I was interested in that same effect, except I wanted to layer it with silence — to make the space between Lola and Philip louder than their words.
Although the structural architecture was similar, there were also key differences in how the cross-cutting functioned emotionally. In Blue Valentine, the intercutting between past and present seems to intensify as the film progresses — almost like the past is crashing into the present. In Satisfaction, I wanted the opposite. The intercutting actually slows down as the story progresses, allowing the past and present to blur into one another. It felt important that the audience experience that gradual fusing — as though time is folding in on itself. In the beginning, the cuts are sharper — love in the past, silence in the present — but as we approach the core rupture of their relationship, the edges soften. I wanted the audience to feel that slow erosion.
Filmmaker: As a follow-up, you’ve differentiated the character of Lola in these two time periods through hair and styling, but, more so, with the tenor of her performance. Could you discuss working with and directing Emma Laird here? How did you want her to seem to the audience in the present day given what’s happened in the past?
Burunova: Yes, we wanted to find a “faded” version of Lola in the present. In the past, her wardrobe is bold, colorful — she wears statement pieces, and carries herself with this confidence. Her short hair — which is actually a wig — was a key visual marker for the audience to differentiate the two timelines in the beginning, but as the story progresses the only distinction becomes the performance.
We talked a lot about embodiment — how trauma physically manifests in the body. In the past, Lola is larger than life, taking up space wherever she goes. She’s unafraid to laugh, touch, play music — her whole being is open. But in the present-day timeline, she’s retreated inward. Her body has shrunk; her voice is quieter. She’s someone who no longer feels worthy of expression.
Emma prepped extensively for both versions of Lola. We talked about her walk, her posture, her gaze. She hasn’t played piano in years — because to compose would be to look inside and access the part of herself that she can’t face. Emma’s performance is remarkable — she understood the internalized shame and disconnection without over-explaining it. It was all in her body language.
What’s interesting is that as the two storylines start to converge, so does the distinction between them. The visual and physical differences that once felt stark — her clothes, her body language, her silence — slowly begin to dissolve. This was very intentional. That merging of timelines mirrors her internal journey — she is slowly integrating the part of herself that she lost touch with, allowing it to reemerge. The film is about that — reclaiming voice, reclaiming body, reclaiming identity — and we wanted the visual language to reflect that gradual resurrection. The mysterious Elena, played by Iranian actress and producer Zar Amir Ebrahimi (Holy Spider), is the third member of Satisfaction’s love triangle, meeting the bisexual Lola on a nude beach and offering Lola
Filmmaker: In addition to Lola and Philip’s romantic relationship, there’s their relationship as musician colleagues, which leads up to a powerful scene having to do with authorship. It’s one that I think many creative people will be able to relate to — when does creative input and collaboration become co-authorship? Why was it important to have this element in the movie, and was it inspired by anything you’ve come across in your life?
Burunova: Yes, that scene was deeply personal. I’ve had experiences in my career where I would originate an idea or a piece of work, and a romantic partner in the same field would slowly absorb it — and eventually take credit for it. It’s a quiet but insidious erosion of agency, and it’s something many women, especially in creative fields, have experienced.
For Lola, that moment of authorship loss is a betrayal — the first time she abandons herself. It’s subtle but monumental. When someone takes credit for your creative work, it leaves a residue of self-doubt. You begin to shrink. You second-guess your instincts. And I think that’s exactly what happens to Lola — she starts ceding ground, and it ultimately leads her into silence.
I wanted to include that moment because it’s not often portrayed with the weight it deserves. Co-authorship is sacred — it’s about trust and mutual recognition. The moment Philip violates that is the first crack in their relationship. It’s small but devastating.
Filmmaker: Tell me about how Zar Amir Ebrahimi became involved in the movie as both a producer and an actor. Her role in the film is intriguing, not purely a catalyst but definitely impactful on Lola’s journey, and also speaking to the fluency of Lola’s sexuality. How did her character evolve throughout the movie?
Burunova: Elena is probably my favorite character because, in many ways, she’s an echo of Lola — or perhaps who Lola could become in the future, if she finds the strength to reclaim herself – or maybe she is me. I always imagined Elena as a woman who has already walked through her own darkness and come out on the other side — stronger, freer. She represents possibility.
I had seen Zar in Holy Spider, and I was mesmerized by her presence. I flew to Paris to meet her, and we had a three-hour conversation about female stories, trauma, and healing. She immediately connected with the material and said, I want to tell stories like this. So she came aboard as both an actor and executive producer.
We crafted Elena to feel slightly enigmatic — like someone who walks into your life at precisely the right moment and changes everything. She’s the spark that rekindles Lola’s voice, and Zar understood that intuitively. She brought a quiet gravity to the role that I’m still in awe of.
Filmmaker: How did the story land in Greece, and what were the possibilities and the challenges of the location?
Burunova: I wanted the island to feel vast and isolating — like Lola and Philip were stranded in their silence. Greece was perfect for that. There’s something ancient and eternal about the Aegean — the light, the seascapes, the emptiness — it mirrored Lola’s internal world.
The challenge was practical. The island we chose required two ferries to get to, and we had to bring all of our equipment from Athens. But it was also a blessing — the cast and crew lived in this small village, swam together on weekends, and formed a real bond. That intimacy bled into the film.
I also loved the mythology of it. Greece is filled with stories of gods, betrayal, and rebirth — and in many ways, Satisfaction is a modern myth about reclaiming oneself after trauma.
Filmmaker: What impact has your previous work in experimental theater had on your film directing?
Burunova: Immersive theater changed the way I approach performance. In immersive work, the audience is often inches away from the actors — there’s nowhere to hide. Everything has to feel lived-in and true. I brought that philosophy to Satisfaction.
I also lean heavily on improvisation. I would often let the actors stray from the script or find their own physical language. Some of the most powerful moments in the film were born from improvisation — moments that feel messy, and raw. That’s what theater taught me: always chase authenticity, even if it’s uncomfortable.
