Rejection

And Resistance

Me and my Order of Canada, in Canadian made clothes and jewelry

Well, we all know rejection. Some more than others, depending on their circumstances at birth.

I’ve been rejected or unchosen a lot in my life. I’ve bombed out of competitions as a youngster; I’ve been turned down for scholarships, grants, auditions, festivals. Sometimes things went better, but I’m quite sure the rejections in my life have been far more common than the successes.

So I know how it feels. Aside from a few unbelievably entitled exceptions, everyone knows how it feels. And it feels awful.

For artists, it’s even worse. We are expected to be vulnerable – to bare our souls, in a way, and give our all for what we believe in. There have been countless times when I knew I gave the best performance I possibly could and was proud and happy – only to see myself torn down the next day by some reviewer who didn’t like my interpretation, my dress … or even my figure.

These things happen. But we keep playing, we make recordings, we continue to create.

But now, I have something different that I’m putting out there – a movie – a full-length documentary, where I tell my soul-shattering personal story, and I ask many others to tell theirs. It amounts to far more than baring your creative soul; it’s your full human one.

I’m aware that I am a representative for the subjects in Dear Lara – that I am speaking on behalf of survivors of sexual abuse, those who are no longer with us and the hundreds who have reached out to me over the past years from within our one small profession. I’m also mindful of the millions behind us, in all walks of life, globally, who want to see justice and who support the people who are paving the way.

I made this film to force change. I’ve spent seven years of my life on it, I sold my apartment for it, and I believe in it utterly.

So when it gets rejected, I am devastated. For all of us. It’s a thousand times more wounding than having my musical work disparaged.

When the finished film received its first rejections from festivals, I would go to bed for days, wondering what I had done wrong and what I could have done better, blaming myself for everything. Every survivor is familiar with those thoughts, but I felt especially responsible because so many survivors trusted me with their stories – not only the ones who appear in the film.

I’m perfectly aware that the current climate in the USA is hardly conducive to a film dealing with child sexual abuse and the harassment and abuse of women. Which is why I was elated when the Santa Barbara International Film Festival gave us our World Premiere.

That was in February, and the response was phenomenal. I was astonished that a film on this subject ended up being one of the 12 most popular films (out of 200) at the festival and was given a fourth screening.

I thought: “Okay, folks are getting it. We’re going to be all right now!”

And then, Canada. My own country.

There is a festival called Hot Docs, which, despite some upheaval in the past years, is a well-known documentary-only festival based in Toronto. Since there had been so much publicity about my film in Toronto itself (this large piece in the Toronto Star; this interview with Ludwig Van), I figured the festival organizers would be excited to hold the Canadian Premiere, knowing it would sell out.

But they rejected our film.

That dismissal was more cutting to me than any other. The story of one of the subjects, Lusiana Lukman, takes place in Toronto. I am Canadian and thought that my country would be proud of what I had done.

No. We were rejected.

When I found out, I was in France doing a podcast for Dear Lara. I had a lot of trouble getting out of bed to move on to the next country for the next interview. Over and over, on the train to Amsterdam, I blamed myself for what had happened. Maybe I hadn’t sent them enough reviews from Santa Barbara. Maybe I sent too many things. What had I done wrong to cause my own country and province to reject us like that? I was ashamed and badly hurt.

Since returning to North America, I’ve learned a few facts.

-Hot Docs now shows fewer films than it did before, because of upheaval within their organization.

-Hot Docs has financial trouble.

-Hot Docs has had, and continues to have, a partnership for over a decade with the Royal Conservatory of Music in Toronto, called Music on Film.

Ah.

As reported in the Toronto Star article, Lusiana Lukman speaks in my film about her sexual assault as a child at the Royal Conservatory in Toronto by piano professor Boris Berlin.

She details how she and a witness spoke to Peter Simon, then the Director of Academic Studies, who ignored her and failed in his obligation to help and protect her from this predator. He allowed Boris Berlin to continue teaching until he died. Simon then became president of the RCM for 33 years and retired last year, crowned with heaps of laurels.

It may well be a coincidence, of course. It could have nothing to do with the partnership with RCM.

Or it could be that the festival’s need to keep its partners satisfied outweighed the responsibility it has to showcase stories of child sexual abuse in Canada and worldwide. Possibly Hot Docs didn’t want to spoil their deal with the Royal Conservatory by screening a film which lays bare the egregious abuse of a child at the RCM, with the school’s complicity.

Who can say? I’ll never know the reasons behind this rejection.

To me, however, it seems like yet another way for institutions to silence survivors and circle the wagons to protect each other at all costs.

I do not take lightly the silencing of any victim, especially at the expense of the public, which should know what is going on behind the curtains, in the studios, after the show.

Therefore, I have decided to screen and fund the Canadian Premiere myself.

Please be with me, and with all of us, this coming April 20^th at 7 PM at the Isabel Bader Theatre in Toronto for Dear Lara’s Official Canadian Premiere.

I will be glad to see you there.

We’ve made a great movie.

Lara