Melody Gilbert and Her Mother’s Voice Show Us Mortality, Art, Acceptance in “Judy’s Thoughts”

Not unlike some of Don Hertzfeldt‘s recent hybrid animations on the topic of mortality, Melody Gilbert’s “Judy’s Thoughts” uses experimental animation, subjective imagery, family photos, and digital manipulation in the service of bringing to life an audiotape of her mother’s dying thoughts. Her late mother Judy, to whom she gives credit as codirector, succumbed very suddenly in middle age to cancer and left behind recordings of her talking about the process, and her life. Daughter Melody couldn’t listen to them for nearly forty years, but when she did, it awoke a new style of filmmaking in her. Over the course of a year, a relatively conventional documentary idea turned into something that grabs hold of the viewer with its imagery, conveying the fragmented mind state and memories of a mom with very little time to look back. The audio is real. The imagery could be described as hyperreal.

We had many questions for Melody. And like her mother, she proved extremely open about her process.

Films Gone Wild: Did you first listen to this tape because you wanted to make a film about it, or did the idea for the film come about after hearing it? 

Melody Gilbert: I couldn’t bring myself to listen to this tape for 39 years because I was too afraid of the emotions it would make me feel. So, when I finally pressed play during the pandemic, the last thing on my mind was making a film. But after I heard her voice, and listened to her words again and again, I started to think that the things she was saying were words worth sharing.

I sent the audio to a few people I know and asked them for their reactions, and they all said they had never heard anything like this before. The intimacy, the honesty, it was painful – and entrancing. That’s when I realized it’s not just me who thought her words were profound. I thought about making an audio documentary, but I am a filmmaker and that’s what I know how to do, and that’s when I realized I needed to make a film.

FGW: Your mother’s aspirations to be a painter are potent…does this film feel, in a way, like a fulfillment of that, like it’s her painting somehow? 

MG: Yes, thank you for noticing that! I had recently found a box of slides featuring my mom’s artwork, so this was an opportunity for me to showcase her paintings. But more than that, I do feel like this is her last piece of art. It’s not the kind of art she thought she would make, but I feel like we partnered together to make this film. I even gave her a co-directing credit, which brought me great joy, as I could feel her creativity within me while making this film. This really was her last painting.

FGW: Did she make the recording with the specific intent that you should listen? What made you decide finally to do so?   

MG: This is a big mystery. I don’t know who she made the tape for. I don’t know if she ever meant for it to be heard. I now believe that the act of speaking into that tape recorder was something like therapy for her. She never really revealed those feelings to anyone, including her best friend. You know, therapy was not a big thing back in the ‘80s, so it makes sense to me that she used it that way. Maybe she meant it for my father (his writing is on the label). Or maybe she did it for herself. Or maybe she meant it for us to hear it. I still don’t know. But now I think it was a wonderful gift that she left behind; not just for me and my family, but for anyone who sees the film.

Why I finally listened to the tape is because of the pandemic. It forced us all into lockdown. At the same time, my husband and I were dealing with very sick parents, including one who passed away. It was a tough year. So much grief. So much pain. I finally decided I could listen to the tape.

FGW: How was the animation in the “dream” sequence achieved? 

MG: The animation in the dream sequence is made from sand! I had seen the work of a sand animator from Italy, Silvia Emme, and fell in love with the yacht animation that’s in the “dream” sequence. She graciously allowed me to use it. The rest of the sand animation is from Beth Peloff, a very talented animator and friend from Minneapolis. And she gave me the abstract images that work so beautifully in that sequence. 

FGW: Was all the live-action footage from home movies, or did you use either stock footage or original  shots to put it together?

MG: Most of the live-action footage was from family home movies, except for the opening sequence of “Getting Well.” The images of my mom’s face moving were made using artificial intelligence from a program that animated her photos. It was amazing to see her face come alive like that from old pictures. The only new footage that was shot was of the beautiful dancer, Genevieve Waterbury, who danced to my mom’s words for the last sequence.

FGW: The imagery is all so potent, augmented with thunder, and lava…were these all images that just came to mind fully formed upon hearing the tape, or were there other obvious influences too?

MG: So, I will tell you a secret. It took almost a year to make this short film and it went through dozens of versions. The early cuts did not have any of the layered images. It was edited in a more traditional documentary filmmaking style. But it never felt quite right.

Later in the process, we started leaning into the idea of making this film more experimental. I was a little scared about taking that plunge since I had never done that before, but I credit my editor and producer, Igor Myakotin, with the encouragement to try. He found most of the images of thunder, lava, etc. and incorporated them into the existing images by layering. My mom’s words were so powerful, we needed to help the viewers feel the way she felt, and the mix of images made that happen. It was only then that we felt the film was finally working the way we had envisioned.

FGW: Do you feel you will or can approach your own mortality differently someday as a result of confronting hers? 

MG: Well, I will tell you something that is not in the film. My mom died less than four months after her diagnosis.  She was living such a happy and full life when this happened, and it all happened so fast. She still had so much to give. So, I have always been keenly aware of how life can change in an instant. But I’m also sad that I was never really told how serious her illness was, possibly because my parents didn’t want (or couldn’t) believe the diagnosis.

You can see that progression in the film from hope, dreams, letting go, and acceptance. That’s probably why recording her thoughts was so important for her. So, I think what I have learned is that if something like that would happen to me, I would hopefully be honest with people who love me and enjoy the time I have left by expressing my love and appreciation for them. I never really had that honest time with my mom. I would like to think I would do better. But you never know how you will be until you are actually confronted with that decision, do you?

FGW: Was this experimental style of documentary a personalized form unique to this particular project, or one you’d like to pursue across others that aren’t as close to home? 

MG: As I mentioned above, this was my first foray into experimental filmmaking. Now that I have done it, I would like to try it again. I have some old reel-to-reel audio tapes that my grandfather left behind, and I might try it with that one, too.

FGW: Popcorn or candy?

MG: Popcorn.

“Judy’s Thoughts” recently played Oxford Film Festival and will play May 2022 at the Minneapolis St Paul International Film Festival.