Paths to Change: An Interview with Charles Williams

Photo: Charles Williams

In 2018, Charles Williams' short film, All These Creatures, won the prestigious Short Film Palme d'Or at Cannes Film Festival. This accolade vastly boosted the Victorian's profile, with many eager for his leap into the full-length scene. The transition took nearly six years, with a story that had been in his mind even longer. Williams' debut feature, Inside, premiered at the Melbourne International Film Festival last July and is primed for nationwide release at the end of this month. The film is a prison drama but does away with the tropes and themes we've become accustomed to, with a greater emphasis placed on vulnerability as opposed to violence.

Its plot is told through the view of Mel Blight (Vincent Miller), an incarcerated juvenile who has transferred to an adult jail. Settling in, he forms connections with Warren Murfett (Guy Pearce), a veteran inmate nearing parole, and Mark Shepard (Cosmo Jarvis), a vile offender who has turned to religion and enlists Blight to help him run sermons. As the relationship between the trio unfolds, all three men come to grips with their past and whether they can ever truly reform from their crimes. It is a work of pellucid soul. Like his short, Williams engages in dark subject matter with a gentle hand, illuminated by honest performances. 

In this comprehensive interview, Williams talks about his back-door dealings to land a star, working with former prisoners and officers, and the age of incarceration. This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

This story contains spoilers for the film Inside.

CONNOR DALTON: When I was in film school, one of my lecturers showed my class your short, All These Creatures. You immediately became the person to aspire to, as we all had hopes that our projects could make their way to Cannes.

CHARLES WILLIAMS: The experience of it was super exciting. I was obviously more than happy to win the Short Film Palme d'Or, but just getting in was such a big deal because you just send it off like everybody and hope for the best. The circumstances do seem discouraging, and some part of you wonders do they even watch it. Then one night, you get a phone call, and it's someone from Paris, and they say, (in a French accent) 'I think you're going to have a very good night. You are selected for the Cannes Film Festival.' I remember saying to them, 'Is it in competition?' And they said, 'It is in competition, and yours is the only film that we do not talk about!' And I was like, 'Is that bad? I don't know what that means.' And they said, 'No, no, no. The other films, we argue, but we all said your film goes in,' and I was like, 'Woah! That's huge.' 

I was bowled over, and being there was terrific. It also, on some level, restores your faith in filmmaking. So much of it you get cynical about, and I think rightly so. The system, the funding, the festivals, you feel like an outsider — I certainly did for many years. I never got funding; I never got anything. You think, 'Is this something holding me back other than my own work?' And sure, sometimes it is. But in Cannes, it was like, 'Wow, these people, these selectors, they really watch the movies and really fight about them.' With the feature films, there are more politics involved about who's been there before and all that, but with the short film, I got to meet a lot of people and witness how sincere they are, the cinephiles they are, how much work they put into watching everything, and their advocation for what they feel is truly great cinema. It was a boost to my optimism. Not in a personal way because I won, but to discover there are people out there who work hard and care about movies. I got lucky that I was the beneficiary of that.

DALTON: Now you’ve moved into features with Inside. What were its foundations?

WILLIAMS: There's a lot there. The short film was the biggest catalyst for it. I'd written one scene of this and didn't know what to do with it, maybe two years before the short film was done, but I didn't want to stretch the story of the short film. I've seen people do that a lot, and it's a quick path to getting a feature made, but the films themselves are always lacklustre. They're not thought out as a feature; they're just a stretched short. In retrospect, geez, I made it hard for myself, but I wanted to reimagine the things that were meaningful to me about the short film — some of the aesthetics, the themes, and relationships — and go, 'What if I took these feelings and then I made them into what I would want to see as a feature film?' That's a really hard process to start from scratch again with all of that, but that's what I did. To me, having a lot of it in prison was just natural as an extension from that short film, even though, I think for other people, it seemed odd. But those themes that were in the short were in my life, and the people that were in my life often went to prison, so there was a very literal connection.

There are a lot of themes going on in the short and the feature, but the main themes are how much control we have over the damage we cause, how much damage others cause, how responsible are those people and ourselves for our transgressions, and how do you make someone accountable for what they've done, while also understanding the factors that went into who they are, which is mental illness or some sort of disfigurement from their experiences or congenital damage. The metaphor of prison was just the perfect thing. It works dramatically, it works literally, but it also works metaphorically because that's what you see when Guy [Pearce's character] gets released from prison. Getting out of prison is the worst prison for him. 

DALTON: How much research did you conduct on the dynamics and structures of prison life?

WILLIAMS: Years and years from every angle. I spent about four years visiting prisons. I needed to be very specific because each state has its own rules and its own way of running prisons. I wanted to go into Victoria because it's where I grew up. I researched all the details of their systems and visited a lot of them. I had a lot of generous collaboration from Corrections Victoria and the juvenile prisons I got involved with, which was also extremely important. Also, former prisoner associations got involved, and I brought those people into the film, so there are lots of former prisoners and current-day officers. Almost anyone who is an officer, except for the main roles, is a current working officer. And almost all the people who are prisoners are all people who have been in prison before.

One of these organisations is The Green Collar, which is for former prisoners to get employment. Another really important organisation is Voices for Change, which is specifically about prisoners who have a traumatic brain injury. They call it an ABI — an acquired brain injury — which is about 40% of the prison population. If you give them an MRI, you can see actual brain damage, and that's about 2% of the wider population. 40% can't be a coincidence, considering half the prison population in Victoria comes from 6% of the postcodes. It gives you this feeling of determinism, and yet, I know you still can't be like, 'It wasn't his fault he assaulted everyone. Let's let him out.' So the competing ideas here that I don't have an answer to are incredibly interesting and were fuel for the making of the film. 

DALTON: Would these officers and prisoners discuss their lived experiences on set? Was that beneficial for you?

WILLIAMS: Definitely. If you don't make it available to them to do that, everyone is quiet. Films can be bossy places. They're very hierarchical, so on the first day, I spoke to everyone who'd been in prison before. It's a bit personal, but I spoke about my past and did say to them, 'I hope that being part of this film gives you an opportunity to contribute something from, I'm sure, what you feel was wasted years of your life. I want your contribution, and if something doesn't feel exactly true to what you've experienced, then come to me and say it. Don't worry about if we're rushing. It's not important if we're violating what's real.' It was the same with the officers, and not to be all lovey-dovey about it, but there were semi-profound moments between the officers and the inmates — particularly the inmates. 

They got to see the officers as good people who are doing their best and have their own lives. They could see each other more as collaborators rather than this dividing line. So, yes, their collaboration was essential, and very frequently day-to-day for simple things that meant a lot — 'Wait a minute, do you use a clipboard when you're doing this check? Do you have an officer with you when you walk here?' Those things are small details, but they reverberate into everyone's performances.

DALTON: It's pretty astonishing to consider your lead, Vincent Miller, was just 15 during your shoot and this is his debut performance. How did he find his way to you?

WILLIAMS: Much like I did on the short films, I asked my casting director to open it up to anybody, not just people who have agents or acting experience. It was to anybody from the ages of 14 all the way up to 30. The character was going to be 18, but I didn't want to limit ourselves. I was open to any race, although I knew I'd have to rewrite it. You can't just cast someone from one racial background and have them be the exact same character as something else, which I did on the short film. But as we got down to the final four, and it was Vinnie and three other kids that had completely different hair, ethnic backgrounds, ages, and everything, Vinnie just had this presence, which is most important for his character. 

He needed to have a quality that you can't manufacture or direct. It's not even just about ability. There's an innocence there, and you just want to watch him. You want to know what this kid's thinking; he just had that quality. On top of that, I was very lucky because he's a very quick learner. He's also very good at being present in a scene and listening, which is not only very hard and important, but it's a gift to all the other actors. It keeps everyone honest. Vinny was incredible and a pleasure to work with. 

DALTON: Another prominent member of your cast is Guy Pearce, who recently secured an Academy Award nomination for his work in The Brutalist. How were you able to attain him? In contrast to Miller, he is one of our country's most seasoned and sought-after talents.

WILLIAMS: Guy was the first person I cast. He was the first person I approached, and he said yes straight away. He read the script and went, 'Whoa, I'm in.' I had someone slide him the script behind his agent. That's probably a bit of gossip there. Going through the front door didn't work so well the first time, so I had someone else — another fairly high-profile actor, actually — slip it to Guy. The thing is, I worked on this character for years and years, and it would have been a tragedy to get there and go, 'I'm not getting the person I want.' I was lucky, and I was excited by Guy doing it because I hadn't seen him do anything like this, but I felt for some deep reason that he would be able to. We had a lot of personal conversations for probably about a year that weren't really about the film itself. There was a little bit about the character, a little bit about the film, but mostly just about ourselves and our lives. I would sometimes discuss the other roles with him, though.

I locked in Cosmo [Jarvis] much later. That was a really hard role to cast, not because no one wanted to do it, but because I had to get the right person. It was really hard to imagine that role with the right actor. As soon as Cosmo came to mind and I met with him, I was like, 'Oh, thank God. This guy's going to be great.' 

DALTON: I was taken by Cosmo's movements and voice. It gave his character an otherworldly dimension. Did you have discussions with him about these mannerisms? 

WILLIAMS: Very extensively. Cosmo works differently from most actors I've ever met. He likes talking analytically and thematically, which usually is poison for a conversation with an actor. Directors and writers love to talk analytically, but it doesn't help most of the time. It usually confuses somebody, and it's not really playable. You can't really get behaviour out of analysing stuff, but Cosmo loves those conversations. It feeds his brain, and he works really, really, really hard. He goes deep on the script constantly, and those conversations do inform what he's going to do physically and what he's going to sound like. Then we would talk about the history of the character, so I would tell him exactly where this character grew up, where the caravan park was, what the abattoir was that his dad worked in, and what that region and dialect is like. 

He tried a few other voices based upon other thoughts that were very tempting because they were also very interesting. He's rigorous, and I really like that in an actor. He likes to push in a good way; it was an exciting process working with someone like that — it's not just performative. I knew that the character needed to feel the opposite of Guy's [character], that there was going to be a bigger presence to him, but you don't want that big presence to be someone performing or reaching for weird shit. It's all grounded in fragments of real stories I passed on to him and other specific things. 

DALTON: I did not anticipate his preaching and citing of spirits to be such a significant characteristic.

WILLIAMS: I was very religious growing up and, in an imaginative sense related to what he would do, it made sense to me that if I had done what he had done and I was who he was, I would be using what limited understanding and reading ability I had to have that interpretation of religion. A lot of prisoners do become religious, and often, it's in a self-serving way. Most people in Australia don't even know there are 10 commandments; it's not a scholarly thing. It's a way of going, 'What I've done and who I am is not totally my fault. There's a creator that made me like this.' That's his way of finding forgiveness for himself and changing compared to Guy's [character], who is using very existential ways to change. He's doing self-help courses and behaviour change programs. 

Cosmo's [character] is doing a spiritual path to change, which is something that people who do Alcoholics Anonymous do: surrendering to a higher power and admitting that you don't have control over your actions. They're two philosophical ways to change who you are. I don't know if either of them works, but the fact that it ends up manifesting in a Pentecostal way just made sense to me. Also, Pentecostalism is not weird or unusual. I mean, Hillsong is big. The thing that I had to most think about was the perception of it in a movie. I was very aware this is why it was so hard to cast.

I wrote a character who's a prisoner and he's religious, and already the audience is going to think, 'Here comes the crazy guy because that's just what happens in war and prison movies.' I wanted that not to be the case. I didn't want to pull back from the extremity of his behaviour and conviction, but I didn't want him to be viewed as crazy because he's grounded. Even that speech he makes about scapegoating, that's all legit. It's his own interpretation, but it's a legitimate way for him to feel a sense of release from how hard he is on himself. Let's not forget that — no one has tried harder to change than him. Obviously, it's something you don't want to give away in the movie, but he's gone pretty far. Most people in the world, if they didn't like their behaviour, would not go to the extreme lengths he has to change. 

DALTON: Inside arrives at a contentious period for Australia's justice system, especially up north. The age at which someone can be imprisoned has morphed to one an abundance has proclaimed is too young. Your film allows us to observe what time behind bars can imbue when it begins in youth. Do you hope it can touch on the current discussion?

WILLIAMS: I don't want the film to be a piece of advocacy, and that is something that's coming very strong these days. I personally feel the films that are pushing an agenda are never as interesting to me because the more you try to get a point across, the more you dumb down your characters — eventually, you have one that's a good guy and one that's a bad guy. Something Douglas Sirk said is, 'The moment you're trying to teach an audience, you're making a bad film.' 

Having said that, yes, I would like the film to be part of that discussion, and I think it can't not be. There are kids that are very clearly at risk at a certain age. They're in a violent household, they're in a difficult upbringing, and the system itself in Victoria — the DHHS (Department of Health and Human Services) — at least from my experience with them, see a kid at risk, then at some point, they call the kid a risk and incarcerate them. I think there needs to be an understanding of what point that is. Is it when someone's 18, or is it when they're four? Should a four-year-old be locked up? Where is that point where you're accountable for your actions?

There are some prisoners who have been in since they were 12, and they've been given a lifetime sentence, as in, no parole. That's unconstitutional in Australia, and yet they keep changing the laws to keep someone locked up. I think this is an important thing to think about. I'm not on the side of no one should be locked up. I'm not on the side of no one's accountable until they're 30. But I do think that if you look at the global conversation, Afghanistan is more humane towards what age that should be. Again, I don't want the movie to be advocacy, and I don't want to pretend I have the answers on these things, but I don't think anyone thinks that a 10-year-old who has the learning ability of a six-year-old deserves to be locked up, further radicalised, and damaged for the rest of their life.

I think there needs to be a serious conversation from serious people, not people who are trying to win elections, finding a convenient whipping boy to kick the shit out of, especially when that's a child. It's complicated; if a 12-year-old has done something utterly despicable and they're going to do it again, there needs to be a way to change that behaviour or intervene. Maybe it's by having a society that doesn't let kids get that jeopardised in the first place. But I think the film is a way for people to think about those things in an emotional and humanistic sense. It doesn't have a point of view to dictate the age of incarceration. It's better for people to feel the emotions of the film and hopefully come away thinking about those questions. 

DALTON: Transitioning from short to feature, did you face anything unpredicted despite your transferable skills?

WILLIAMS: Not so much. I think the thing that you articulate, the thing that is the biggest difference is that in a short film, more or less, and particularly in my experience because my short films were not funded, you could kind of just do it. No one's stopping you from making a short film, even if you make it as hard as I did, which is shooting on film, shutting down roads, and having an animal involved. Technically, you can just go and do that. No one's stopping you from making some phone calls and putting yourself through hell to put it together.

With a feature film, some people do that, but to have a feature film, you really do need a lot of international partners. You need insurance companies. You need all this stuff that then becomes burdensome or something else to navigate. I had to shoot the feature film much quicker than I shot the short. That was a big difference. It becomes its own behemoth that you need to guide as much as you can rather than going, 'I know the shot I'm going to get, I'm going to book that thing, I'm going to bring that there.' The beauty of a short film is that you can essentially walk your way through it with a few people. For features, you'll need to corral some people from Sweden, some people from Australia, some state bodies, some financiers from the U.S., and some other guys. It's a circus.

DALTON: I'm grateful for your time, sir. This has been an insightful conversation.

WILLIAMS: No, I appreciate it. Thank you for not just watching the film but for such good questions. 

This article was originally published by Rough Cut