Interviews
Interview: ‘Red Hill’ Star Ryan Kwanten
Westerns are pretty few and far between these days, but Red Hill will satisfy cravings for those who like wild west tales of the uncommon variety. Part western, part horror, and part revenge tale, newcomer Patrick Hughes’ film tells the story of officer Shane Cooper and his irregular first day on duty in a rural Australian town. We sat down with star Ryan Kwanten (True Blood, Dead Silence, Knights Of Badassdom) to talk about Cooper, his experiences working in the genre, and the best animal cameo of the year.
David Harley: Before I watched Red Hill, I was flipping through the press notes and saw that a letter from Patrick [Hughes] was included, which talked about the background of the film and how he was able to pull together financing. With all the favors and the amazing crew that he got together from working on shorts, it makes it sounds like this quick, dirty guerrilla film making experience, which is obviously a departure from working on True Blood. And Red Hill is this epic, Leone-meets-Ford western. What were the biggest challenges working like that? Given the scope and rigorous nature of the action sequences, was there anything you were really skeptical of going into it?
Ryan Kwanten: The big challenges were time and money. In retrospect, me and Patrick were talking about if we had more time and money, we would’ve made a different film but would we have made a better film? We don’t know. I see it as a beautiful relationship. In that relationship, you fall in love with the person because of the things you love about them; the imperfections. For me, I love this project because it was a western, and a different kind of character to play in a western. What keeps me in love with it were all the hard things, all the imperfections; the fact that we didn’t have a lot of money; the fact that we only had time for one or two takes; the fact that we’re shooting in subzero temperatures; the fact that we all had to ban together to make this happen. That, to me, is far more endearing. As far as being skeptical, as an actor, you have to put your utmost trust in the filmmaker. I had plenty of occasions where I looked at Patrick where I just didn’t want to question him; you just can’t do that. I knew how much he loved the genre, and he knew how much I loved it. Our relationship survived on trust. He had to trust that I knew that character, and could give the performance he needed in one or two takes. It worked both ways, I trusted that he was getting the coverage he needed and was getting the performance he wanted. You don’t have the time to do hours and hours of discussions about character motivation. You just have to get in there, shoot it, and hope for the best.
B-D: With your character, Shane, you get the impression that he’s a pacifist right from the beginning – he doesn’t bring his gun to his first day of work. He’s quiet and reserved, which is exactly the opposite of Jason Stackhouse.
Kwanten: I love shooting the show for 6 months out of the year, and I love the character, but nothing could be more uninspiring to me than going off and shooting something else that had me playing the exact same type of person. That’s not what I’m in the industry for. I’m always looking for the next challenge; something that’s going to be outside of the box and be as hard of work as possible. I really want to work my ass off, and create a job that I’m going to be proud of. No great achievement has ever been the result of doing something that was easy.
B-D: Your performance is more expression and body-language driven than other films of its ilk. You manage to bring a lot of the subtext and situations, and obviously the emotions, in Red Hill to the forefront without loads of exposition and dialogue.
Kwanten: That’s really amazing to hear. So many factors had to fall into place for the film to get to this point. Ultimately, it’s going to be word of mouth that sells this film; it’s not going to be the millions and millions of dollars that studio films have to be marketed. Word of mouth is still the best form of advertising.
B-D: There’s quite a lack of westerns nowadays. In Australia, there aren’t too many traditional westerns. When I saw Not Quite Hollywood a few years back, which focused on Ozploitation films of all kinds, a big chunk of it was devoted to Mad Dog Morgan, which is a fantastic film. I’ve seen more recent stuff like The Proposition, but Red Hill comes across more like an Australian take on American westerns, rather than an homage to native ones.
Kwanten: Yes, absolutely. We were more alluding to the classic western genre. We definitely have our own version of the Wild West. The critics and press that have seen it so far have been saying it’s kind of like an Australian version of No Country For Old Men. And that’s pretty much what it is. We have a certain amount of authenticity with that western world, because we had our own version of the Wild West. It happened, and it was there. We had some of the best cowboys in the world; we had the colonial history that you guys also had. There are a lot of interesting parallels.
B-D: Going back to something I touched on briefly earlier, one of the most interesting things about the film is the lack of exposition. The audience is thrust into that first day along with Shane, and you guys just get down to the nitty gritty with the film. The town goes to hell in a single day, and you don’t really find out what is going on with Jimmy Conway (Tommy Lewis) until the third act. How did you approach that? Did you kind of play fill in the blank? Because, really, there’s not one scene in the entire film that has useless dialogue to pad out the time, which is something a lot of other films are guilty of.
Kwanten: That’s an incredible point you made, and that to me… I’m very, very callous with the script that I read. I can see through them very quickly, and I was amazed at the lack of fat on the bone of this script. Everything that should have been there was there and there was nothing that was really left on the cutting room floor. That showed such maturity on Patrick’s part, for a first time filmmaker. You’d never guess watching this story that place that he was a first time director. I feel like I’m going to look back on this experience in 10 years and say, `I was a part of the very first Patrick Hughes film,’ in the same way that any actors involved in the first Sergio Leone or Quentin Tarantino film would. I feel like we’re witnessing the birth of a seminal director as he’s launching himself into the industry.
B-D: There’s something really understated about your character, in the sense that he moves to the middle of nowhere to live in this town because of his wife’s miscarriage and the pressures of the big city, and there’s this unexplored vibe he gives off which gave me the impression that he was extremely frustrated with his job from the previous town, and not just because of his wife’s conditions.
Kwanten: Not necessarily frustration, but it’s more of just the ashes of the past. Things happened there that were tough to confront, and it’s somewhat of a break to him, even though he uses his wife as the ultimate reason why they moved there, to a country town where nobody knew them and had no ideas about the mistakes of the past. So here he was, at his very first day of work, with this boss that’s prying all this information out of him. He can’t help but feel confronted.
B-D: Aside from the film throwing you into the thick of things very quickly, one of the other things that stood out to me about Red Hill was its transition between genres. It starts out the same way a lot of slasher films do, and it progresses that way through the first act, turning into a revenge western about halfway through the film. And once you find out Jimmy’s back story, the character turns into this sympathic monster, almost like Frankenstein. It’s a really interesting blend of genres, especially since that mixture isn’t normally seen. Did you find it hard to maintain a balance to your character tonally as the film makes its numerous transitions?
Kwanten: Acting wise, nothing really changed because you have to stay true to the story. I, like you, saw a mashing of a few genres, but at its heart it’s still a western. Once the wheels are really in motion, about the halfway point, any kind of comedy should be taken out of it. The audience really shouldn’t be laughing at anything up until that point. The only instance of comedy I could possibly see during the second half is when Shane goes home and accidentally wakes his wife, and she asks him how his day is. He turns and says it was great. The audience should turn and laugh at the irony.
B-D: The film features some very uncompromising violence, and a lot of practical effects. Because of that, there’s very long portions of the film without any substantial dialogue. You and the other actors use nothing but facial expressions and actions to tell the story most of the time. Taking the setup of the film into consideration – it’s your first day, you have no idea what’s going on, and you don’t really know anyone that lives in Red Hill, let alone your co-workers – and knowing the angle of storytelling going on, was there any method involved? Did you intentionally distance yourself from the other actors in order to make it seem more organic?
Kwanten: I would love to say yes, but we were all in the same trailer. The budget didn’t provide for us to be separated. We were all in it together, and there was no other way to pull it off. At the end of the day, I can just jump right into that character. There was no real separation from anyone. It was just playing it how it was. It sounds cliché, but I was just doing what I get paid to do.
B-D: There’s a specter-like panther in the film that serves as an interesting parallel to as Jimmy, in that it stealthily blazes through the town, unnoticed for the most part in the beginning, and seems to be invincible, kind of like a slasher villain.
Kwanten: The beauty of what you just said is that that’s what you saw in the panther. Patrick and I have stopped saying what we see in the panther because the beauty of it is that everyone gets a different meaning from him. It’s like a piece of art hanging on a wall; everyone’s going to analyze it and get something different from it. We’re leaving it as this mysterious force that’s there to get whatever you want from it.
B-D: As of right now, I believe you’re finishing up or have just finished shooting Joe Lynch’s Knights Of Badassdom. You’re working with a lot of practical effects on that as well, and there’s really not a lot out there about the film. Is there anything you can fill us in on?
Kwanten: A lot of the effects on that are in-camera. We used a lot of the same people that worked on the Hellboy series, so a lot of it is in-camera. Obviously, there are some parts that have to be CGI, but outside of that… I’m just as intrigued as you are to see how it turns out, I really have no idea. I’m really keen to see the sort of magic Joe Lynch worked on the film. Joe was talking about doing a soft release at Comic-Con next year.
B-D: At the end of season four of True Blood, Jason is left in charge of this platoon of people left behind by Crystal. What’s next for Jason? It’s kind of scary to think he’s in charge of anything.
Kwanten: I have no idea, your guess is as good as mine. Any delusions of grandeur that I could possible conjure up in my head would pale in comparison to what Alan has in store for everyone. I just know it’s a frightening prospect to think Jason is trying to take care of anyone, especially a large group of people.
Of all the places to find a coven of witches, the attic above a Christian youth camp is probably the last place you’d think to look. But that’s just what we find in Camp, a surrealist nightmare of feminist empowerment from Canadian filmmaker Avalon Fast.
Emily (Zola Grimmer) is still reckoning with her involvement in a horrific tragedy when she accidentally contributes to the death of her best friend, Charlie (Giselle Morison). Unable to move on, the traumatized teen takes a job at a rural summer camp, hoping to forget her own sorrows by looking after at-risk kids. She quickly connects with a counselor named Clara (Alice Wordsworth) and finds comfort in her close-knit group of female friends. But a mysterious whisper from deep in the woods warns that they may be leading her down a darker path.
Fast burst onto the scene in 2022 with Honeycomb, a psychological horror film that follows a burgeoning matriarchy. Known for their focus on “Girl Horror” stories, the talented young filmmaker tackles similar themes in Camp as Emily leaves the modern world behind to embrace a dark vision of self-discovery through magic.
Ahead of the film’s U.S. release on June 26, Bloody Disgusting sat down with Fast to chat about the nebulous nature of good vs. evil and the intoxicating power of female-driven horror.
Bloody Disgusting: What inspired this unique story? Did you go to religious summer camps when you were young?
Avalon Fast: I did. I went to lots of different summer camps, but all of them were primarily Bible camps. The memory I have of camp is kind of strange. I was very homesick as a kid, and I didn’t necessarily enjoy all my time there. I definitely remember meeting some interesting girls at camp and having that presence of religion hovering around the whole experience.
BD: I really love the film’s gorgeous natural setting. Camp is the kind of surrealist nightmare that you don’t just watch. You feel it too. How did you approach creating this world?
AF: Well, a huge part of it was working with my cinematographer Eily Sprungman, who’s a very close friend. We spent years prepping, shot listing, storyboarding, and mood boarding. She’d had a similar experience to mine. We grew up around the same place, and so we understood each other’s visions from the get-go. But there are so many other pieces that came together. The costuming, the art, and the animated sequences were done by Sofiya Iurkevych. One of our producers, Taylor Nodrick, was obsessed with shooting on Super 8 film. I’ve always wanted to as well, so all the memory sequences were shot on Super 8. It was just a lot of people with an understanding and a vision for what this project was. I’m really happy with the way it turned out.
To the extent that you’re comfortable sharing, what’s your relationship to witchcraft, and what does Camp have to say about modern witches?
Well, that’s the question of Camp. It’s not that I don’t resonate with any of these things, but I specifically wanted Camp to be a little bit ambiguous around what witchcraft looks like. Is this witchcraft? Are these girls witches? Emily explicitly asks if that’s what’s happening here, and the answer isn’t yes. The film isn’t going to answer that question for you. My relationship to magic and witchcraft? It’s tough. I feel like there’s so much magic, connection, and spirituality that comes from these friendships, the closeness of these women, and what’s happening around them. A lot of what Camp is trying to say or show is just that magic can come out of friendship.
I loved watching these female friendships develop. And you’re right. No one ever says the word “coven,” but you can feel that connection, and you can see a change in Emily as those relationships grow. I’m also really fascinated with the way Camp plays with the idea of good and evil. At one point, Clara says, “Maybe God drew us to the devil,” which stopped me in my tracks. How do you view witchcraft or the magic these girls are experiencing in regard to good and evil?
That was such a huge part of the script’s construction. The story is really trying to keep a balance between those two things. I like asking people if they think these girls are good or bad, because I feel like a lot of people come out of the film thinking one or the other. They’ll say things like “thank God Emily found her people” or “God, I really wish she’d gone home.” I just don’t think there’s ever an answer. I wanted to explore the idea of going down the wrong path, especially coming out of grief. What makes you a bad person, and does healing mean you’re looking to become a better person? I don’t have an answer, but I do feel like that’s a huge part of what Camp is asking. What is good? What is bad? Why did God bring me to the devil?
Yes, because this is all happening at “God camp” in Emily’s words. So how can both of those things exist at the same time? Along those lines, I’m also fascinated by the voice Emily hears in the woods. Without spoiling too much, what is this voice asking, and what is required in return?
Emily comes to camp with a shout into the void, asking can anyone hear me? Does anyone want to? And it’s answered so clearly by these girls, specifically responding only with love, care, support, and trust. It’s like her prayers were answered. It doesn’t mean that everything is going to be alright, but Emily is looking for peace. She’s looking for a moment where she feels pure good. And I think, even at its surface level, she does get that experience.
Personally, I don’t really think people are good or bad. I think we all exist somewhere in the middle. Camp centers traditionally villainized characters, but that’s where Emily seems to find her peace, however you choose to define it.
I also wanted to show the experience of having decided that you are a bad person, you’ve made mistakes, and you feel cursed. Then when you meet other people who have done things that you would consider worse, you can actually feel good in their presence. You feel like less of a bad person. I think that’s a huge part of the story as well. Emily’s finding her version of other fucked up people, and she feels less fucked up around them. I’ve found that in my own life. It’s a cool thing. I don’t think it’s bad.
I don’t think it’s bad either. It’s finding your home, your people. We meet Emily in the aftermath of unthinkable trauma. Is this a story about mental health and healing?
Witnessing it myself. witnessing other people experience tragedy and then move through grief, you hear a lot of talk about healing or coming out the other side. There’s so much conversation around what that looks like, with self-care and showing up for yourself. I always felt really averse to it. It annoyed me. I think the beginning of the film speaks to that. The therapeutic version of what getting help looks like is obviously very different from what Camp is showing. And again, I don’t have an answer for what you’re supposed to do. But I think that’s another question I was asking: how do you heal? Do you heal at all? Is that the end goal, or are we just trying to get better? It’s something I experienced in my own grief. And the answer, for me, at least now, is just that I’m not looking to get better. So I felt like I hadn’t. I found it hard to find people to have those conversations with. And I think that’s what I ultimately wanted to make a film about.
I love that unanswered question. In my own experience, I’ve had to reframe what healing actually looks like. There’s not really an endpoint. It’s just finding a way to keep going. There’s also an element of sacrifice in this story, particularly regarding another counselor named Jo (Sophie Bawks-Smith). What role does she play in Emily’s journey?
For me, Jo is this human embodiment of Charlie, Emily’s friend. As Jo, she had a life at this camp before meeting Emily, and then was kind of taken over by Charlie’s spirit. I think a lot of people view Emily’s final choice as horrendous and tragic. In a way it is, but for me, if Jo becomes her angel, it’s almost like a self-sacrifice. Jo knows that by sacrificing herself, she’ll be giving Emily power to move forward. In the original script, the girls were supposed to bring out another counselor, JB (Aidan Laudersmith), and burn his body. But I just thought, there’s no way sacrificing this guy could give the girls enough power. There’s just no way, right? Logically, that just didn’t line up for me.
I’m glad you mentioned JB, because he has his own tragic arc. How do men factor into the world of Camp?
The way men factor into my world is so bizarre. I have such little respect for them in my films, which is something I’ve been called on. I think I have to challenge myself in the future to make a movie about a boy because, these boys … It’s not that the men in my films aren’t redeemable, but there’s no depth to these characters. They’re just treated with such disrespect. I don’t know why I do that, actually. That’s something for me to look into. It was the same with Honeycomb. They’re just such peripheral characters. I’ve had people ask about Kayne (Henri Gillespi), the scary guy at the fire, what happens to him? I just think, I don’t know. I don’t care. That’s not the point of the story.
Well, I can say after a lifetime of watching women on the periphery of the story, the course correction feels nice. In a similar vein, I’m in love with your homepage, avalonfast.com. There’s an image of girls on a film set and then a still from Honeycomb in which a blood-covered girl is screaming at the sky. And in the middle, it just says Girl Horror. It’s a really powerful statement that gives me chills. How do you define Girl Horror, and what draws you to these types of stories?
I was obsessed with the term when I started making my movies. It was something I’d come up with to kind of brand myself and describe what I was doing. Then I went through a period where I felt like it was a bit gender exclusive and didn’t interest me as much. But now I’ve come full circle on the term. I think it’s a bit of a commentary on youth and the horror of growing up female. But I think everybody can relate to that experience. I don’t want it to feel like this exclusive thing, that I make movies exclusively for girls, because I don’t think I do. I’m interested in exploring what Girl Horror means. Originally, it was just a title, something I came up with, and now it’s become something that resonates with people. You said it gave you chills. That’s cool for me to hear because there’s obviously some depth there.
Are you working on anything new?
Yes. I am actually making a movie about a boy. That’s the next thing.
That’s exciting! The more I think about feminism, the more I end up coming back to men and boys, because they have a place in the world of Girl Horror too.
Absolutely. It’s all just part of being human.
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